Reforming a Rake (17 page)

Very slowly Lucien slipped the thin straps of her shift down her arms. “But not tonight,” he murmured.

She shook her head. “Not tonight.”

The shift rustled to the floor, leaving her naked except for her stockings and her shoes. She expected him to enfold her again, but instead he knelt in front of her. He removed her shoes one by one. Then he slid his palms up her right leg to the top of her stockings. Apparently he removed clothing from women all the time, because he was very good at it. Every tug and every slide of her stockings became another caress.

Her knees felt weak, and she dug her fingers into his bare shoulder for balance and for strength as he removed her other stocking. She could easily have swooned into his arms, but if she did that, she might miss something—
and she had no intention of missing anything tonight.

“What did Lady Victoria mean when she said you shouldn’t flee again because of Virgil Retting?”

Alexandra frowned. “I don’t want to talk,” she stated.

He chuckled. “This is the only moment I can be assured of getting an answer out of you.” Lucien stood again and kissed her. “Tell me.”

She felt ready to growl with frustration at the delay. “About two years ago, before my employment with Lady Welkins, I came across him in Bath. I was so angry at seeing him, alive and healthy and wealthy, that I gave notice and left just so I wouldn’t have to look at him again.”

“He is fairly stomach churning,” Lucien agreed. He walked a slow circle around her, his hands running across her shoulders, her back, her buttocks, and her stomach. She should have felt embarrassed, or shocked, but everywhere he touched her seemed to come alive, leaving her craving more. And there was more; she knew it. Her body knew it. “Kiss me again,” she demanded.

He grinned and bent his head to comply. Gentle fingers trailed down from her shoulders to caress and tease her breasts, a delicious torment she could never have imagined before tonight. Lucien lowered his head further, and his lips and his tongue on her nipples brought her to moaning arousal.

“Lucien,” she shuddered, twining her fingers into his hair.

At her cry he swept her up into his arms and laid her down on the couch. Kneeling beside her, he suckled first one breast and then the other until she could breathe only in short, panting gasps.

“Tell me how you feel,” he whispered, trailing his mouth with agonizing slowness down her belly, up again
to her breasts, along her collarbone and up her throat before capturing her mouth again.

“On fire. Please, Lucien.”

“Please what?”

The only term she knew for it was the one he’d used earlier. “Make love to me.”

He smiled. “As you wish.”

Turning to sit on the floor, he pulled off his boots. Alexandra kissed his shoulder blades and ran her palms around his waist and his flat, well-muscled stomach. Shifting up on one elbow, she kissed and nibbled his ear. He groaned again. Encouraged, she slipped her hands down to assist him with unfastening his breeches, using the opportunity to explore the hard, straining bulge there.

“Wanton,” he rasped, setting her hands away from himself as he shrugged the breeches down to his thighs and then kicked out of them.

“It’s your fault,” she retorted, fascinated and hot and terrified at the sight of his full, hard erection. With a slight grin he let her look, and then lay down along the deep couch beside her.

She reached for him again, and this time he endured her heated, fumbling exploration for several moments, his jaw clenched, before he pushed her hands away.

“Good God,” he moaned, and shifted atop her.

Again her body seemed to know what to do, even if her mind had lost the ability to produce any kind of rational thought. She bent her knees, welcoming his hardness pressing at her thighs. “Now,” she said, pulling at his hips.

He kissed her again, deeply and roughly, and shook his head. “Now we go slowly,” he countered, every muscle tense.

She knew instinctively how tightly he was holding himself, how difficult this would be for someone as used to bedding women as he was. “Now,” she repeated, and lifted her hips.

Pain shot through her as his length filled her. She would have pulled back, but he clasped her hips to his. “Wait,” he commanded in a hissing breath.

He held her there for a long moment as the pain faded away. She could feel all of him inside her, as though he were touching her and holding her everywhere at once. “Lucien,” she whispered again.

With another deep kiss he began to move his hips slowly, and then harder and faster as she found and matched his rhythm. Her body tightened and clenched and shattered inside, and she cried out in pure ecstasy. A moment later he buried his face in her hair and groaned, holding himself tightly against her before he collapsed.

Trying to regain her breath and her senses, Alexandra ran her hands along his back, welcoming his warmth and his weight. “So that’s what Byron was writing about,” she said, more intensely satisfied than she could ever remember being in her life.

He chuckled, the sound resonating in her own chest, and raised on one elbow to kiss her again. “Now you see why young, virginal females aren’t supposed to read him.”

“I’m nearly twenty-four,” she replied, kissing him back, “and I don’t believe I’m virginal any longer.”

“I should say not, thank God.”

Having his skills at sex compared to Byron’s poetry was not a bad way to conclude the evening, Lucien decided—though he had no intention of ending the evening yet. Alexandra Gallant had an extraordinary wit,
beauty, courage, and passion. She’d befuddled him from the moment he had first seen her in his study, and he wasn’t through with befuddling her.

As his breathing returned to normal, he sat up. Alexandra looked three-quarters asleep, for which he could hardly blame her. Given that tonight had been her first experience with sexual intimacy, she’d been spectacular.

“Do you think Lord Belton will offer for Rose?” she asked, sitting up beside him to pull on her shift.

No hysterical tears and cries of regret from his Alexandra. She took what the world gave her and dealt with it. Lucien smiled.
His Alexandra
. Now, what would she think of that? “Robert’s got more sense than that. He’s just trying to ruffle my feathers.”

“In that case, you definitely need to hold a birthday celebration for your cousin. Mrs. Delacroix was right.”

Lucien sat back on the couch and looked at her, noting that she seemed to have retained her fascination with his nether regions. “Back to business as usual? Parties and dinners and what to wear to luncheon on Thursday?”

She made a face at him and knelt on the floor to find her stockings. “Beg pardon, my lord. You are the expert at…what comes after making love. What are we supposed to discuss?”

He took a quick breath, wondering how much he should tell her of what he’d decided that evening, and about his belated realization that he’d already found and interviewed the woman he wanted to marry. “How about your future?”

Alexandra paused in the middle of gathering up her dress. “Are you telling me to leave?”

He shot to his feet. “For God’s sake, no! What in hell made you think that?”

She looked up at him, her cheeks and lips still flushed
and her hair a disheveled golden halo. “I told you, I’m not used to—”

“Neither am I,” he interrupted. “Generally, there doesn’t seem to be much to say afterward.” Or nothing he wished to say, anyway.

“Oh.”

“But I meant your future here,” he continued. “With me.”

She straightened, holding her crumpled gown before her like a shield. “I am not your mistress.”

Lucien lifted an eyebrow. “Whatever you wish to call it, I have some feeling of responsibility toward you.”

“Well, don’t. You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want done. My reason for being here hasn’t changed, has it? You still want me to help Rose snare a husband, don’t you?”

He looked at her. “I’d be an idiot to say no. So yes, of course I do.” Lucien grabbed his breeches and stepped into them. She was infinitely easier to deal with when she was naked. “Now, may I escort you to your bedchamber?”

Apparently she didn’t want to argue tonight any more than he did, because she nodded. “Very well. Any decisions can be made in the morning.”

Biting his tongue at her damned no-nonsense practicality, Lucien gathered up the rest of their things and opened the library door. They walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway in silence, and he briefly wondered what kind of attack Aunt Fiona would have if she saw them creeping about half naked in the middle of the night. It would almost be worth the bother of having her discover them.

Outside her door she stopped. “Good night,” she whispered, taking her slippers out of his hand.

“Alexandra, I—”

She put her free hand over his lips. “Good night,” she repeated. “If I let you in, I’m…not sure I’ll be able to let you leave.”

He leaned down and kissed her, thrilling at her eager, heated response. “I wouldn’t want to leave,” he murmured against her mouth. “And don’t think this is over, Miss Gallant.”

Somewhat to his relief, she smiled and kissed him again. “I’m beginning to believe I might enjoy some more lessons from you, Lucien.”

He stepped back and let her slip into the dark bedchamber. For several minutes after she closed her door he stood there, listening and hoping she might change her mind and invite him in. Finally he headed down the hallway to his own rooms.

Whatever ideas Alexandra had about her independence, he had no intention of letting her go. Not until he’d figured her out, and not until he’d figured out what she’d done to him—and why he’d begun enjoying it so much.

W
ith only four hours of sleep, Alexandra didn’t even try to talk herself into going on her morning walk. Lying curled up beneath the warm covers felt too pleasant, and her dreams had been even better. She smiled and stretched, stiff and tender in places she hadn’t even realized she had muscles. Dreams hadn’t been the best part of the evening.

She lay there for another few minutes, until she heard Rose heading downstairs. Uttering a reluctant groan that woke Shakespeare, she climbed out of bed and got dressed. Rose’s education wasn’t going to progress with her sleeping the day away, and she needed to convince Lucien to hold the birthday celebration. His support would do more for his cousin’s chances at a good match than any amount of skill the young lady acquired at conversational French.

She paused as she put up her hair. That was the way to proceed: business as usual, as though nothing had happened and nothing would happen again. And if either she or Lucien had any sense, that was the truth. She had
absolutely no regrets about last night. Being the focus of his attentions and passion had been every bit as intoxicating and fulfilling and satisfying as she had imagined.

This morning, though, she wasn’t certain she was up to facing him. As he had said, “mistress” was only a word, but she didn’t like what it implied—that she belonged to him, and that she existed only in relation to how well she satisfied him. She had worked too hard to allow that. And if Kilcairn didn’t agree, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to set him straight.

“Oh, bother,” she muttered, and glanced down at Shakespeare. “He may just want to forget the entire evening, you know.”

The terrier wagged his tail and scratched at the door.

“All right, all right.”

None of the servants looked at her oddly as she and Shakes made their way downstairs, so at least no one had seen her and the earl. She had a small bit of luck remaining, anyway.

Spying their approach, Wimbole left his post by the foyer to take charge of Shakespeare. “Are there any special instructions for Vincent this morning, Miss Gallant?”

She handed the end of the leash to the butler. “I would appreciate if Vincent gave him a good walk. I think it may rain this afternoon, and I don’t want anyone getting soggy on our account.”

Wimbole actually smiled. “Very good, then.” He tugged on the leash. “Come along, Shakespeare.”

Next the butler would be hiding dog treats in his pockets. Chuckling, Alexandra strolled into the breakfast room—and stopped dead, her jaw dropping. Rose sat at the table, a fashion magazine open before her and her
breakfast plate pushed to one side. Leaning over her shoulder and gesturing at a sketch on one of the pages was Kilcairn.

“Good morning, Miss Gallant,” he said, straightening.

Alexandra wondered if the responding rush of blood through her veins showed on her face. She hadn’t expected the sudden lust that hit her as their eyes met. So much for business as usual. “Good morning,” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, Lex, come see what cousin Lucien found!”

Straightening her shoulders, she joined them at the table. Lucien watched every step of her approach, and if Rose and two footmen hadn’t been present, Alexandra thought he would have pounced on her. At least she hoped so, because she very much wanted to be pounced upon.

“What have you found?”

“A gown for the opera next week! Isn’t it exquisite? Do you think Madame Charbonne could complete it in time?”

“No doubt she can be persuaded,” the earl said dryly. “Have some breakfast, Miss Gallant. You must be hungry after your exertions last night.”

If she hadn’t been blushing before, she was now.

Rose nodded happily and closed her magazine, returning to her ham and biscuits. “I’m starving. I don’t think I sat down for five hours straight.”

Lucien pulled a chair away from the table, and with a quick glance at him, Alexandra sat. “Thank you, my lord.”

“My pleasure.” His fingers brushed her cheek as he straightened and returned to his own seat.

This was absolute torture. She could barely look away from him long enough to butter her toast. His own ex
pression of canary-eating satisfaction didn’t help matters in the least. Alexandra wasn’t sure whether she wanted to whack him or kiss him. She took a deep breath. Mooning over the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey was not on her agenda for the morning.

“My lord, have you given any further consideration to a birthday party for Miss Delacroix?”

“I have.”

“And?” she prompted after a moment of silence.

“And I’m awaiting a response to a note I dispatched this morning,” he said calmly. “Soiree planning will have to wait until then.”

“A note to whom?” she persisted, frowning at him.

Lucien looked up at her from beneath his long lashes, a smile touching his mouth, and then turned his attention to his morning paper. “Cousin Rose, what do you have planned for today?”

“Lex and I are going shopping for hats, and then we need to work some more on my drawing room French.”

Amazed at the sight of the black panther playing with the mouse and keeping his claws sheathed, Alexandra looked from Lucien to Rose and back again. Not one barbed comment so far. Not even a look of suspicion or boredom from either party.
Something
was going on.

“I meant to ask you before,” the earl said. “What, precisely, is ‘drawing room’ French?”

Rose finished her mouthful of toast. “It’s much better than real French. When a gentleman says something to you that doesn’t require an answer, but only an acknowledgment, you respond in French, thereby giving the impression that you speak the language.”

Alexandra added a good memory to Rose’s list of natural talents. The explanation was almost word for word the one she had given her pupil last week. She
waited for Kilcairn to spring, hiding behind her cup of coffee. The morning’s peace had been pleasant while it lasted.

“I see,” the panther purred. “What sort of expressions do you utilize?”

For the first time even Rose looked surprised, but when nothing caustic followed, she smiled again. “
Mais oui, mais non, d’accord, á bien sur
, and…” She glanced at her companion.

“And
absolument
,” Alexandra finished.

Lord Kilcairn sat back in his chair. “Amazing. When I think how much time I wasted with my tutor on actual French when I was young…ah,
quel dommage
!”

“Ooh, I like that one, too.
Quel dommage
.”

Finally some sarcasm. Alexandra recognized
that
Lucien Balfour, though he was still behaving in an extremely mild fashion. Perhaps last night had sated him, though she knew that before her arrival at Balfour House he certainly hadn’t been celibate. She studied her coffee cup for a moment. Though she couldn’t be entirely certain, she thought he had been celibate since her arrival—except for last night. Except for her.

Wimbole entered the room, a letter perched on his silver tray. “My lord, the reply you instructed me to wait for has arr—”

“Splendid.”

Lucien wiped his fingers on a napkin and took the missive. Flipping it open, he glanced at it, then up at Rose with a smile. For the first time, Alexandra was conscious of a distinct feeling of jealousy running down her spine. She took a deep breath. Next, she’d be baring her claws at poor Rose. For heaven’s sake, Kilcairn kept a list of prospective brides—a list upon which neither she nor Rose appeared. A few weeks ago she’d thought
those ladies deserved her pity. Now she wasn’t certain what she thought they deserved.

“Well, my dear,” Lord Kilcairn said, “how about a week from Friday for your party?”

“Oh, Lucien, really?”

“I believe so.”

Rose sprang to her feet and hurried over to kiss him on one cheek. She continued around the table and hugged Alexandra. “I have to go tell Mama!” The girl skipped for the door.

Alexandra would have called her back, but she wasn’t all that displeased to see her go. Besides, the two footmen remained. Hopefully their presence would be enough to encourage Kilcairn to continue behaving. “Someone sent you permission to hold a party?” she asked, gesturing at the letter. “How unusual.”

“No. But before the harpies fly off to spread the news, we all have an appointment.”

“An appointment with whom, pray tell?”

“Prince George. Rose is to be presented this afternoon.”

For a long moment she stared at him. “You’re bamming me.”

Lucien lifted an eyebrow. “Wealth has its privileges.”

“I would say so. But doesn’t Rose have a luncheon invitation for this afternoon? A picnic in Hyde Park with Lord Belton?”

He finished off his coffee. “I’ve already sent over a note to cancel. Robert can thank me for saving him later.”

His affability had apparently fled with Rose, which didn’t leaven Alexandra’s suspicion over his behavior in the least. “Lord Belton might actually like her, you know. You didn’t force him into making the invitation,
did you? The way you forced him to dance with me?”

His fine brow furrowed. “Did he tell you that?”

“I am not without deductive abilities, my lord.”

For a moment he gazed at her, then glanced at the two footmen. “Thompkinson, Harold, excuse us for a moment.”

“Lu—” Alexandra began, then stopped her protest as the servants vanished.

“What are you deducing right now?” he asked, rising to close the door behind them.

She sighed to cover her sudden delighted trembling. “That you’re making yet another error in judgment.”

“Come here.”

“I most certainly will not. Open that door before your servants confirm the
ton
’s rumors about me—about us.”

“My servants don’t gossip. Come here, Alexandra.”

“It’s not proper, whether anyone gossips or not.”

Lucien left the door, circling the table and stopping behind her chair. “I’m allowing Rose’s birthday extravaganza,” he said. “How much exemplary behavior do you expect me to exhibit?”

She wanted to lean back toward him, like a bee unable to resist a flower. “You can never overdo exemplary behavior.”

Lucien tilted her chair back and looked down at her with glinting gray eyes. “I beg to differ,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her.

If anything, her body’s reaction was more electric now than last night. She wanted to mold herself to him, to wrap herself around him and never let him go. Slipping her hands up to either side of his face, she tangled her fingers through his dark hair.

He came around in front of her, and leaned more deeply into their kiss. Fleetingly Alexandra wondered if
he’d locked the door, because if his body was reacting anything like hers, they weren’t going anywhere for a while.

“Lucien, you wonderful boy!”

“
Damn
,” he hissed, yanking her chair upright, and dropped into the seat beside her just as the door opened and Mrs. Delacroix swept into the room, Rose on her heels. “Beg pardon, Aunt?”

Alexandra was hard-pressed not to stare at him. He sounded so cool and collected that she couldn’t believe he’d been involved with her less than a heartbeat ago. She took a swallow of coffee, wishing it were something stronger.

“I said you were wonderful!” Fiona repeated. “Why didn’t you tell us last night? You might have saved me a great deal of anxiety!”

“I had a few arrangements to make first. Miss Gallant and I were just discussing one of them.”

Alexandra couldn’t resist a glance in his direction, and abruptly realized why he’d seated himself at the ladies’ arrival. She stifled a very inappropriate chuckle. Obviously he hadn’t been unmoved by their kiss, after all. “Yes, we were,” she seconded brightly. If Aunt Fiona only knew. “Might I relay the news, my lord?”

“Of course.”

“Well, Miss Delacroix, it seems you will be able to waltz at your birthday party.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “What?”

Alexandra nodded. “Your cousin has arranged for you to be presented to Prince George this afternoon. With the Almack’s assembly tonight and thereby your permission to waltz nearly assured, you—”

Rose squealed and dashed around the table to hug Lucien. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “Just following your governess’s recommendations,” he muttered.

“Thank you, too, Lex!”

“Oh, my!” Fiona exclaimed, sinking into a chair. “What does one wear to meet Prince George?”

“Something very conservative,” Lucien said, before Alexandra could. “He detests idle chatter, too, so unless you wish Rose to be banished from society, you will refrain from talking, Aunt. Is that clear?”

Alexandra waited for the explosion, but Fiona only lifted a painted eyebrow. “Of course. Come, Rose, we must start dressing you at once. Thank goodness I had the foresight to have Madame Charbonne make a presentation gown for you!”

“Yes, Mama.” At the doorway, though, Rose stopped, a dismayed look crossing her pretty features. “But what about Lord Belton? I already said I would accompany him for luncheon. He’ll be so disappointed.”

Realizing she’d best make her escape as well, before she lost the chance or the desire to do so, Alexandra stood. “Lord Kilcairn has already informed him. They will reschedule at the first opportunity.”

“Miss Gallant,” Lucien said, making a surreptitious grab for the trailing edge of her skirt, “we still have something to discuss.”

She flicked the muslin out of his reach, feeling giddier than she ever had as a schoolgirl. “I believe your cousin and I should review court etiquette again before her presentation, my lord.”

He shoved the chair beside him backward, trapping her. In a second he had the edge of her gown twined in his long fingers. “After we finish our discussion,” he
stated, his gaze daring her to make another attempt to flee.

Seemly or not, she already felt warm with excitement and anticipation. “Miss Delacroix, I believe your mother is correct,” she said, turning to her pupil. “Your lessons will be more effective once you are in the proper attire.”

Rose nodded and pranced out the door with her mother. “Oh, I can hardly contain myself,” she giggled, as they vanished back down the hallway.