Moonlight (3 page)

against hers, his arms strong, and she melted against him because he felt so good, because she missed a man’s embrace. He smelled of bergamot and lemon and, oh, how lovely, he wasn’t tentative at all. His tongue was in her mouth, and she wasn’t sure she could support her weight on her trembling knees. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She was aroused. Sexually. Carnally. Wickedly, thoroughly aroused for the first time in months and months. All this time, she’d been afraid Captain Bancroft would do more than kiss her cheek, to the point where she’d concluded there was something wrong with her. Alec forced her to confront with the lie of that. She wanted him to do more than hold her. A very great deal more.

Somehow, she found the strength to push away. “Alec.” Her mouth felt bruised, her body alive. She swallowed. “My lord.”

He kept his arms around her as if he had no doubts. “Mm?” She closed her eyes, shivering. “You are so young.”

“But not too young.” He kissed the top of her cheek, just below her eye. “And not too inexperienced, I hope.”

“I didn’t imagine you were.” There was no way earth a man could kiss like that and be a virgin. The thought of Alec in bed with a woman shocked her into stillness. He had been. Of course he had been. Some other woman had been his first. And there had been others after that, she was certain. He seemed to have guessed what she was thinking because his beautiful mouth curved. She tried for dignity and suspected she’d failed. “You must have been very much in demand in London.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, a laugh in his voice. His fingers splayed over her lower back and kept her close. “All the young gentlemen are put to stud in London.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” The whole time, she stroked his face, tracing the outline of his mouth, the slant of his cheekbones, the soft depression just beneath his eyes. She wondered about the woman who’d been his first and imagined him touching her, kissing her body, the first time he slid into a woman. “Was she very beautiful?” His hand on her waist slipped to the small of her back and his fingers angled Carolyn Jewel Moonlight 19

down and tonight, of all nights, she’d worn a short corset and there was, in fact, very little material between his hand and the side of her hip. “Yes. But not as beautiful as you.”

Alec kissed her again and she buried one hand in his lovely, thick dark hair, while the other clutched his shoulder. Her shawl was tangled between them with one corner dangling to her feet, which she knew because she was stepping on the end. She let her neck relax until the moment his palm supported the weight of her head and imagined how the moonlight must be silvering her face, seeping into her blood, into the marrow of her bones.

His breath fell warm on her cheek. “Philippa.” Her name was a whisper. Soft as a petal. Calling to her in a way that made her heart feel too big for her chest. No one had whispered her name like that since William.

An endearment, his whisper was. So achingly sweet. She did not release him. In such moments of inaction were momentous decisions made.

He lowered his head again, and his lips slid down her throat, soft kisses. Gentle kisses. Needful kisses that brought tears to the back of her throat. His hand on her hip moved away, but only long enough to gather up her shawl and drape the end over her shoulder. He took a step forward, holding her, moving them, she realized, deeper into the garden.

Philippa’s eyes fluttered open and her gaze locked with his. She understood the look in his eyes, the touch of his fingertips, the reason they were now standing completely out of the circle of light from the house. If one of the servants happened to look out the window, they would not be seen.

She shivered. Not because she was cold. These feelings were wrong, but oh, since he’d been away he’d become a lovely man and they had written to each other, holding back so little of themselves. She knew so many secrets of his. And he the same of her.

Not a boy any longer. A man fully grown. And her friend, too. She trusted him.

She knew him to be thoughtful. Principled. A gentleman.

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“Don’t go home tonight,” he whispered. “Stay with me. Even if only for a while, Philippa.” His voice slid between them, a low, enticing whisper. In the dark, in just the light from the moon, she had to strain to see him. He wrapped his fingers in the folds of her shawl and pulled her closer.

She missed the passion of her marriage and now that this so very young man had awakened such longing in her, she wanted to say yes. She wasn’t sure she could do anything but assent. Seconds ticked away.

“Christ,” he said, his voice low and dark. And he sounded like a man who knew what he wanted and intended to have it. “Don’t say no.” She cupped his face in her hands, leaning against his torso. “Alec, how can we?”

“The usual way,” he said. “The way any man and woman do.” She shook her head then realized he probably couldn’t see her. Not well enough.

His cheeks were smooth, but since he was so dark haired, probably that was because he’d shaved before he came downstairs for the ball. Once again, she didn’t step away.

She didn’t even let go of his face.

“Good.” He kissed her again, sweetly, cajoling her, keeping her close against him, and Lord save her, she kissed him back again. Foolish. So foolish. Even while she thought that, her hand slid around to the back of his neck, and she wished desperately she wasn’t wearing gloves. She pulled back, and he drew in a quick breath.

He let go of her and dug into an interior pocket of his coat. “There’s a private entrance round back. The stairs exit directly into my room. We can go there now and see where this leads us.”

“No,” she whispered. She pressed her palm over his hand, trapping it in his pocket. She could salvage this. Save them both the awkwardness of a moment lost to moonlight. “No. Alec,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I never meant for that to happen. To let you kiss me like that.” He worked his hand free of his pocket and caught her hand in his. “Lie to me if Carolyn Jewel Moonlight 21

you like, but don’t lie to yourself.”

Good heavens, he was throwing her own words back at her. Words she’d said to him years ago whenever he said something dishonest. She took a step back and shook out her skirt. She was horribly aroused. Her body tingled with anticipation and desire.

“Touché, my lord.”

“I’m sorry you lost William.” He caught both her hands in his and held tight, and her heart gave a twist in her chest. “I am sorry. Believe that if you believe nothing else I ever say to you. If he were still alive, I’d be happy for you.” He lowered his voice. “But he isn’t, Philippa. Don’t live as if you’d died, too.”

“I thought I had.” To her horror, her voice hitched.

He pulled her into his arms again. “That’s the reason you think you ought to marry that prig Bancroft, isn’t it? So you won’t have to love anyone again.” He closed the gap between them and put his mouth by her ear. “Don’t deny it.” And then, the wicked, wicked, man’s tongue flicked out and touched the side of her neck.

“You’re wrong,” she said.

“Liar.”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m going to strip you naked,” he said. “And ask you to do a hundred wicked things to me.” The rawness of his voice set off a quivering need in her . He grabbed her hand and started walking and she, who could have objected, did not, even though he wasn’t heading back to the terrace.

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A thousand times between then and now Philippa could have objected. She didn’t. And the astonishing thing was that she wasn’t the least bit conflicted, even though she’d let him make the decision for her. She’d done so even though since William’s death she’d had to take control of her life and was now well used to dealing with her own affairs and making her own decisions.

She was perfectly capable of directing the course of her life.

Philippa followed him to the back of Frieth House and stayed silent when he fit his key to the door. For now, she resisted the urge to lay her hand on Alec’s back.

Instead, she imagined the warmth, the play of muscle underneath his coat she would feel if she were to do something so bold.

Snick.

Not a moment later, they were inside with the door closed behind them, away from the moonlight and enveloped in the darkness of the stairwell. He let out a breath, low and soft as silk and they stood there by the door. Alec didn’t move. He didn’t give her space. She didn’t make any.

“It’s been too long for me,” she said.

“I know.”

Time stretched to eternity. She might die from the anticipation of the next moments. Her stomach took flight when he leaned in. She did the same, leaned toward him. Alec took a step forward, putting his weight into the motion, and she took a Carolyn Jewel Moonlight 23

backward until there wasn’t any farther she could go, and he kissed her there, with her head and shoulders touching the wall behind her. His kiss was slow. Tender. Thorough.

She melted against him. Surrendered to him.

Of course she had. She wanted this.
This
. So fiercely. The electricity in her belly, the warmth between her legs, the ache in her breasts, the way her breath caught in her throat. His mouth on hers. The taste of him. The solidness. The maleness of him.

He planted his palms above her shoulders and pressed forward. His torso touched hers, and she put her arms around his neck and while he kissed her and while she kissed him back, she slid the fingers of both her hands up and into his hair and brought him closer.

The past with Alec was exploded and had been since the moment they’d stepped out on the terrace. Now, she thought,
this is Alec, this man who is holding me with such
conviction
. She couldn’t square this impossibility with her present condition, the heat that ran just beneath her skin, her desire to touch him, her desire to have him touch her.

To do those hundred wicked things to him. And more besides.

They broke apart, not far, and he gripped her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers, waiting, she realized, for his breathing to settle. “I can’t wait,” he said, with them standing there like this, “I can’t wait, “he said in a low voice, “until I am inside you.”

His bluntness shocked her. And aroused her. She wasn’t a prude, not by any means, but William had never expressed his desire for her in such frank words. She didn’t know if she ought to reply in kind and so said nothing in reply.

Alec held her hand while he led her up the stairs. At the top, she could just make out the faint outline of the doorway. Which meant there was likely someone inside. A servant. His valet most probably. He straightened his coat and ran his fingers through his hair before he glanced at her to make sure she would be out of sight when he opened the door. She stayed to one side, out of the crescent of light that appeared on the floor and ceiling of the landing.

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“Burns,” he said. He walked inside. His voice receded with his advance into the room. “I won’t need you tonight after all.”

She listened to the murmur of a male voice and then to silence.

“Good night, then. I’ll call you in the morning. When I’m ready.” There was another silence, and then Alec appeared in the arc of light and reached through the doorway to grab her hand and bring her inside. Into his room. “Stay here.” His gaze held with hers until she nodded. As if she were capable of withdrawing now.

She wasn’t that strong. He reached behind her and shot the bolt home on the staircase door.

He secured the other doors, too. He’d grown up in Frieth House, and this room, the master suite, had been his father’s, a fact she knew because she’d practically grown up here as the Fall family’s third daughter, even though she was no relation at all.

The room had changed very little from what she remembered. Alec’s father had been a man of simple tastes. Spartan, even, but kind. He’d never forgotten her if he had gifts for his own children. She’d loved him as if he’d been her real father.

The desk against the far wall was oak with a fold-out leaf presently lowered to show the drawers and cubby holes that would otherwise be hidden. In front of the desk was a plain oak chair. In the corner, a washstand with a white and blue basin and ewer and a towel nearby. The red highboy and armoire with uncarved door were familiar sights. A tassel hung from the key still in the armoire lock. The bed was plain. No high posts. No canopy or hangings.

Frieth House was Tudor and, like the previous Falls, Alec’s father had modernized very little. The walls and ceiling were square panels of carved mahogany.

The wide plank floor was covered with a carpet that had probably been in place for a hundred years.

Despite how little had changed since the last time Philippa had seen the room, there were signs everywhere of Alec’s imprimatur. Books on the desk, for example, one of them still open. Alec had always been an avid reader. At the foot of the bed was a Carolyn Jewel Moonlight 25

black trunk with the coronet of his earldom painted on it in gold and silver, red and blue, with an occasional splash of yellow. A decanter of brandy sat on a table, a crystal tumbler next to it.

She walked to the center of the room just as Alec came back from locking the last door. He headed to where she stood and stopped too close to her for a man who was only a friend. Too close for safety. Not close enough for a lover.

Her stomach fluttered. Alec seemed at once ineffably familiar and a complete stranger to her. The boy she’d known her entire life, the young gentleman with whom she had exchanged frank and even intimate letters, and this handsome, unknowable man whose touch made her feel alive.

“You haven’t changed your mind have you?” he asked.

She shook her head.