Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (26 page)

She lifted her gaze from the puppy, and he was stilled by the impact of her eyes and the delicate blush coloring her cheeks. “You said you liked my hands.”

Surely he shouldn’t have been so inordinately glad at her obvious wish to please him. “I do,” he said, sliding his free arm around her waist and drawing her close. “I also like your lips.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, intending to keep the contact light and brief. But the instant his mouth touched hers, she parted her lips, and with a growl of want, he hauled her against him and gave in to his hunger for the deep, intimate kiss he’d craved for hours.

At that moment the unfortunately named Daffodil squirmed, then let out a series of barks. Alexandra leaned back and Colin groaned, and they both looked down at the puppy, whose button eyes were alert and
whose pink tongue was searching for something to kiss.

“He’s letting us know that he doesn’t like being ignored,” she said with a laugh, as the puppy set to work kissing her fingers.

“How delightful,” Colin muttered. He tried to glower at the wriggling kiss-interrupting bundle of fur, but it was difficult to remain stern when the woman and the dog were so delighted with each other. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, holding out her hands.

Colin transferred the bundle, then watched Alexandra hold the squirming, ecstatic puppy at arm’s length and laugh. “You are so sweet,” she crooned, drawing in her arms to cuddle the small dog to her chest. When she buried her face in the soft black fur and gently kissed its head, the pup quieted and let out what sounded like a sigh of contentment.

Damn smart dog, Colin decided.

And damned lucky, too.

“He’s absolutely wonderful,” Alexandra said, looking up to smile into his eyes. “Is he yours?”

“Yes, he is,” he said without hesitation. “He’s the gift my brother mentioned. As Nathan’s offerings always require feeding and care, I wasn’t surprised. Indeed, I was relieved that he didn’t see fit to bestow upon me a gaggle of geese or a herd of cows.”

“Does he have a name?”

He looked at the small dog, curled in her arms, his little head nestled against the generous curve of her breast, and said, “Lucky. His name is Lucky.”

“A very fine name.”

“And very apt, as he is close to you.” He stepped forward and, unable to keep from touching her, trailed his fingers over her smooth cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“A bit…tender, but in a very delightful way.”

“Delightful…” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against the side of her neck. “That describes last night perfectly.”

“I’m also surprisingly well rested. I do not normally sleep so late. You make a very comfortable pillow.”

His fingers glided lower, tracing over her collarbone, biting back the urge to tell her that the simple act of holding her while she’d slept had brought him as much joy and contentment as making love to her had. “Did you find your surprise?”

“Yes, thank you. It was delicious. Had you brought it from home?”

“No. I pilfered it before coming to your room—from the secret supply of sweets I knew Nathan would have. I know all his hiding places.”

“You managed to pilfer it during the short time it took me to get back to my bedchamber?”

“I did.”

“Heavens, you are talented. In, um, more ways than one.”

“Thank you.” His fingers glided lower to cup her breast, and she gasped softly. “Would you be interested in another demonstration of my talents?” he asked, brushing his thumb over her nipple, feeling it pebble beneath the material of her gown.

“Wh…what did you have in mind?”

For an answer, he reached out and gently plucked the sleepy puppy from her arms. After settling Lucky on the hearth rug, where he promptly yawned and curled into a drowsy ball, Colin crossed the room and locked the door, the quiet click reverberating in the suddenly tense silence.

Turning, he walked slowly toward her, enjoying the way her eyes widened. When he reached her, he didn’t stop, just wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off her feet, and continued moving.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, entwining her arms around his neck.

“Showing you what I have in mind.”

“Here? Now?”

He reached the wall and pressed her against the mahogany paneling. “Right here,” he whispered against her neck, breathing in her luscious fragrance while his hands lifted her skirts. “Right now.”

“But what about Lord Wexhall?”

“He’s out for the day.”

“Your brother and Lady Victoria?”

“They’re notoriously slow eaters.”

“And if they aren’t today?”

“That’s why I locked the door.”

“But they’ll know what we’re doing!” Yet even as she protested, her hands fisted in his hair and dragged his mouth toward hers.

“Only if we’re not quick. Exactly how tender are you feeling?” he asked, dropping quick kisses to her lips between each word.

“Not nearly as tender as desperate.”

“Thank God.” He ruched up her skirts to her waist, then hooked her thigh over his hip, opening her for his exploring fingers.

She sucked in a sharp breath when his hand slipped inside the slit in her drawers, a sound that coincided with his groan as he caressed her slick folds.

“You’re already wet,” he growled against her mouth.

Her hand stroked over his erection. “You’re already hard.”

“Constantly.” He slowly slid a finger deep inside her tight heat. “Entirely your fault. I’m afraid it’s going to become an embarrassing problem.”

“Consider me more than willing to help.”

“An offer I’ve no intention of refusing.” Slipping his hand from her body, he reached between them and
freed himself from his breeches as quickly as his unsteady fingers allowed. A small inner voice interjected that he was showing a decided lack of finesse, but dark, fiery urgency shoved the voice aside. He wanted her, needed her, needed to be inside her.
Now
.

The instant he was free, he grasped her beneath the buttocks and lifted. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said in a voice he barely recognized. “And hold on.”

Seconds later he slid into her hot, wet heat. And lost all semblance of control. He stroked her with long, hard, deep thrusts, gritting his teeth against the swelling need to climax, watching every nuance of her flushed face, her parted lips. Her eyes slid closed and her fingers bit into his shoulders and she cried out, arching her back, her inner walls convulsing around him. The instant he felt her relax, he withdrew from her body and pressed his erection tight against her abdomen. He pressed his face to the warm, fragrant curve of her neck as his release thundered through him.

When his tremors subsided, he raised his head. Her eyes blinked open, and, for several long seconds, they simply stared at each other. He wanted to say something, something light and witty, but light and witty was beyond him. This woman not only robbed him of his control, but apparently of his wits as well. So he said the only word he felt capable of uttering.

“Alexandra.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her, sliding slowly into the velvety warmth of her mouth, savoring the taste of her, the erotic friction of her tongue rubbing against his, the scent of her warmed skin and their shared passion rising between them. His heart thudded against his ribs, and he ended their kiss as slowly as it had begun.

“You are indeed a talented man,” she whispered, her head lolling against the wall.

“And you are a delicious woman. I didn’t hurt you?”

“Heavens, no. While last night was slow and gentle and lovely, I cannot deny that there is something wickedly delicious about the hard-and-fast approach.”

“Duly noted.”

One corner of her mouth lifted in a saucy grin. “I can’t wait to see what you plan to demonstrate next.”

“Based on the way you affect me, you’ll find out very soon.”

He lowered her gently, and, when she stood on her own, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “You should visit your bedchamber to better freshen up before we leave,” he said, gently wiping at the evidence of their spent passion.

“Leave?”

“Yes. I’m here to accompany you on any errands you may have.”

“Oh?” She raised a clearly skeptical brow. “And here I thought you were here to have your wicked way with me.”

He chuckled. “And now that I have, we can commence with your errands. And mine as well.”

“What errands do you have?”

“Well, first, it would appear I have a dog to walk.”

Alex walked in Hyde Park, and as she had
at dinner the previous evening, she surreptitiously pinched her leg. Hard. Again the pain made her realize this wasn’t a dream.

Yet how could it be real that she—Alexandra Larchmont, back-alley rat and former thief of St. Giles—would be strolling through Hyde Park, escorted by a viscount—a man who was not only handsome and intelligent and wealthy, but her
lover?

She flexed her fingers against the crook of Colin’s arm. The hard muscle beneath his very proper midnight blue cutaway coat was definitely real. Turning her head, she looked up at him, and a sigh of pleasure escaped her.

Ribbons of bright sunshine filtered through the leaves of the soaring elms lining the pathway, gilding his thick dark hair and casting his features in dappled shades of gold. Perhaps there existed, somewhere in the world, a more beautiful man, but she couldn’t imagine what that man might look like.

Yet it wasn’t simply his handsome features that attracted her so fiercely. He possessed every quality she’d
fantasized he would when she’d first laid eyes on him at Vauxhall. He was intelligent and amusing. Kind and patient. Sensual and exciting. And when he’d given her his trust, he’d bestowed upon her a gift more valuable to her than jewels or money.

His trust
. Guilt pricked her, knowing he wouldn’t have given her such a precious prize if he knew her past, if he’d recalled their Vauxhall meeting. But it was a gift she cherished and selfishly refused to give up. He trusted her, and she’d give him no reason to regret that choice.

He must have felt the weight of her regard as he turned his head. The heated, speculative glimmer in his eyes shot fire to her toes, and she was tempted to pinch herself again to prove that she was actually here. With him. And that he was looking at her in that smoldering, intimate way.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked in an undertone, leaning toward her, his shoulder bumping hers.

“I don’t know.” She debated whether or not to admit the truth, then said, “I was trying to convince myself that this afternoon stroll with my handsome viscount lover wasn’t merely a figment of my imagination.”

“Hmmm. Definitely not what I was thinking.”

“Oh? In what direction were your thoughts wandering?”

“I was wondering how long before we could leave this bloody park so I could strip my exquisite fortune-teller lover naked and make love to her again.”

Fire sizzled through her, and she nearly stumbled. “I don’t think Lucky would take kindly to having his walk cut short.” She nodded toward the enthusiastic puppy, who alternated between galloping as far ahead as his lead would allow, then stopping to sniff at every blade of grass.

“Perhaps not, but I’d wager I’ll end up carrying him
before long since he’s bound to run out of energy.” He tilted his chin toward the chatting couple walking several yards ahead of them. “I don’t think my footman would take kindly to having this walk cut short, either. John seems quite taken with your friend Emma.”

“I believe the feeling is mutual.” She fiddled with the strings on her reticule, then said, “It was very generous of you to purchase Emma’s
entire
crate of oranges. She’s never finished selling this early in the day.”

“It was my pleasure, especially as I’ve developed a special liking for the fruit. Besides, I saw the way she and John were looking at each other. By making Emma available to join us, not only could they get acquainted, but her presence provides you with a chaperone.”

“Do I
need
a chaperone?”

“Definitely. Otherwise, I’d give in to the temptation to drag you behind a tree and ravish you in broad daylight.”

“Oh…my,” she said, rendered breathless by the image his words created in her mind. “And that would be very bad.”

“And very likely if you don’t cease looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“In that way every man wants to be looked at by a woman he desires. It’s…potent. Especially with those big, beautiful eyes. I suppose most other men would compare their color to a topaz jewel. But to me, your eyes look like warm, melted chocolate, sprinkled with cinnamon.”

“As you’ve admitted a weakness for sweets, I’m delighted. Especially as I prefer chocolate to topaz jewels.”

He chuckled softly, then discreetly brushed his arm against the outer curve of her breast. “I knew you were extraordinary, but the fact that you would even think
such a thing, let alone say it out loud, makes you truly incredible. Hmmm. Extraordinary
and
incredible…I believe that makes you…incredinary.”

They paused while Lucky examined an apparently fascinating tuft of grass, and she smiled up at him, shading her eyes with her free hand. “I like the way you create new words. Have you always done so?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who has inspired me to do so.”

She was tempted to categorize his words as mere jest, but the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, made it clear he was serious. Confused pleasure seeped through her. “I’m flattered.”

“And special. Which makes you—”

“Splattered?” she suggested, realizing the word perfectly described her thoughts and emotions—like raindrops scattered by buffeting winds.

He laughed, a deep, rich sound she could have listened to for hours. “Splattered,” he agreed, his eyes smiling into hers.

Lucky barked, and they both looked down at the black ball of fur whose prancing and tail wagging indicated he was ready to move on. When they started walking again, Colin said, “I meant to tell you this earlier, but I was distracted by your charms and forgot. When I left Wexhall’s last night—or rather early this morning—I saw Robbie.”

A frown pulled down her brows. “Robbie? Where?”

“Hiding in Wexhall’s bushes. Looking out for you, he claimed.”

Concern knotted her stomach. “He shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Precisely what I told the lad. I assured him you were being well cared for and were perfectly safe. And that you would worry about him if you suspected he was lurking about.”

“Thank you. I’ll speak to Emma—make sure she tells him I’m fine and to stay away and that I’ll be home soon.”

“The child loves you.”

A lump of emotion clogged her throat. “I love him in return. And speaking of love…” She nodded toward Emma and John, who were now quite far ahead, strolling with their heads bent close to each other.

“They seem to be getting on famously,” Colin said.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. The last time I read Emma’s cards, they predicted she’d meet a tall, handsome, blond man.”

“And what of your cards? Did they predict you’d meet a man with commanding bearing, superior intelligence, and passable good looks?”

She recalled her last card reading, and the danger she’d seen. Not wishing to cast a pall on the afternoon, she said lightly, “Yes, but it might not have been you, as I read nothing about this man having a weakness for sweets.”

“On the contrary, I’m certain it was I. I have so many weaknesses, no doubt that one just became lost amongst all the others.”

“Weaknesses other than sweets? What are they?”

“I’ll tell you—for a price.”

“How much?”

Deviltry and heat danced in his eyes. “The price has nothing to do with money.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you risk never discovering how sensual a game of billiards can really be.”

“Billiards?”
she repeated, intrigued. “Sensual?”

He settled his hand on top of hers, which was curled in the crook of his arm. Warmth slid up her arm, but then she gasped when he slowly brushed the backs of his fingers over the outer curve of her breast. “It de
pends entirely upon with whom you are playing.”

He continued his slow caress, and the fire racing through her made it nearly impossible to think. She pretended to ponder, then blew out an exaggerated, put-upon breath. “Very well, I agree to your terms, heinous though they are.”

“Noted. Mind you, these weaknesses are of a somewhat recent nature. It appears I have a weakness for oranges.”

His finger flicked over her nipple and her heart stuttered. “You do?”

“Yes.” He halted under the shade of an elm, then turned to face her. Less than two feet separated them, a dangerous lack of space that was so very tempting to erase with a single step forward. “And big, chocolate brown eyes, and dark, shiny hair,” he continued softly. “And smooth skin that has just a smattering of freckles right here…” He lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips over her cheek, halting her breath. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and heat flared in his eyes. “And full lips.”

Dear God, surely he didn’t mean to kiss her. Right here, in the open, where anyone could see. Her insides trembled, and although her inner voice warned her to step away, she couldn’t move.

“You,” he whispered, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I have a profound weakness for you, Alexandra.”

“And I for you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, but as they expressed a sentiment so obvious, there wasn’t much point in trying to deny it.

The hint of a smile touched his lips. “I’m glad. I care nothing for things that are one-sided.”

He leaned forward, and her heart thudded with an anticipation that should have appalled her but instead thrilled her. A quick look around assured her that no
one was nearby. Still, the voice of reason inside her head whispered that she risked a great deal allowing him such liberties in public. She shoved reason away and waited for his kiss.

An insistent barking penetrated the fog surrounding her, and he stepped back with a half-troubled, half-sheepish expression. “It appears Lucky is an able chaperone, and clearly you require one, as I nearly forgot myself.” He offered his elbow, and after she slipped her hand back into the warm crook of his arm, they continued their slow walk.

After a dozen paces in a silence broken only by the warbling of birds, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “This weakness of yours for me—it truly baffles me.”

“Now who’s fishing for compliments?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“I’m not. Truly.”

“Then allow me to assure you that you are extraordinary. And your beauty is unsurpassed.”

“You require spectacles.”

He shook his head. “Your beauty is much more complex, and encompasses far more than mere physical attributes. It has to do with your
essence
. Your soul. The extraordinary person you are.”

Guilt slapped her squarely in the midsection. “I’m not the paragon you’re making me out to be, Colin. I’ve done things I’m…not proud of.”

“I’d be hard-pressed to name anyone who hasn’t. God knows I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of. But regardless of those things, you’ve risen above them and turned yourself into someone to be admired. That in itself is extraordinary.”

She turned and found him watching her with an unreadable expression, and her throat went dry. His words, the way he said them…it almost sounded as if
he knew her past was less than reputable. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.

“I’m guessing you endured some hardships while growing up. It has been my experience that hardships either break people or inspire them, firing them with determination. It’s clear to me you’ve triumphed over any adversities and want to help others, such as Robbie. That says a great deal about you.”

Discomfort edged through her at his uncannily accurate assessment. “What makes you think I endured hardships?”

Obviously her tone wasn’t as neutral as she’d hoped because he said, “I meant no offense, Alexandra. I tend to study people—I’m afraid that comes with being a spy—and it’s simply a conclusion I’ve drawn based on my own observations. If I’m wrong, I apologize.”

“Upon what observations did you base your conclusion?”

He hesitated, then said, “Many different things. Your hands are those of someone accustomed to hard work. The fact that you are so determined to help children like Robbie, whose young lives are fraught with difficulties, suggests to me that you are motivated by a childhood that was likely less than idyllic. When you mentioned your mother died, I had the impression you were young when that happened.”

An image of her mother, so pale and ill, trying to smile, flashed in her mind. “I was eight.”

“It’s clear she meant a great deal to you.”

A frown pulled down her brows. “How? I’ve barely spoken of her.”

“The look in your eyes when you’ve mentioned her speaks volumes. It’s a look I recognize.”

She nodded with understanding. “Because of the loss of your own mother.”

“Yes. What happened to you after she died?”

A wealth of painful memories flooded her, and even though she had no desire to dredge up that part of her life, she suddenly wanted him to know something of her past—at least enough to realize that she spoke the truth when she said she was common.

“I went to live with an aunt,” she said. “My father’s sister. She wasn’t fond of my mother, whom she labeled ‘gypsy rubbish’ and was less than pleased to be saddled with me.”

“What of your father?”

“He was a sailor. He died at sea when I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all.”

“I’m sorry.” He again rested his hand, which held Lucky’s lead on top of hers, and gently squeezed her fingers. “Obviously, your aunt provided for your education.”

A humorless sound escaped her. “No. She provided only for her son, Gerald, who was two years older than I. I learned by listening at cracks in the doors and by hiding in the bushes beneath the room where the tutor instructed him.” She drew a deep breath, and decided it wasn’t necessary to add that she’d been kicked out of her aunt’s home at the age of twelve after she’d blackened Gerald’s eyes for trying to insinuate his hand up her skirt. “It wasn’t a very happy place.” Neither were the cold, dark, frightening London streets where she’d taken refuge after being tossed from her aunt’s house like yesterday’s trash. That was when and where her real education had begun.

“Which proves that you are one of the people who is inspired, rather than oppressed, by adversity. Whatever became of your aunt?”