Page 55

CHAPTER THREE

The man standing guard looked like he was carved from stone. Not an artistic, lovely stone like marble, but rather pure cold granite.

“I’m, uh, here to see Miss Lydia,” Alexander said with more than a faint degree of discomfort at the door of Bessman’s gambling hell. After nearly losing every bit of money he owned (and some he didn’t), he’d sworn to never return to the place.

But he still owed Miss Lydia his thanks for saving his skin, his sisters, and indeed, his very home.

So, that was why he stood, a small picnic basket in hand, at the door while a very cross-looking man studied him.

After a long moment, the man grunted and jerked his head to a staircase. “Her suite’s on the third floor.”

Murmuring thanks he didn’t feel much like offering, Alexander walked past the man and started up the flights of twisting stairs. At the top was an open door, with candlelight sending flickering shadows out from behind it.

“Uh, hello,” he hesitated, his heart uncomfortably lodged in his throat.

“My new friend has braved the journey back, I see. Come in, please.”

The suite was cozy. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting a glow over the plush chairs and delicate table set for two. The scent of roasted chicken and warm bread drifted through the room, drawing Alexander in. It confused him, as well, for he’d thought he was the one bringing the meal.

Lydia stood near the sideboard. Her dark hair was pulled up, twisted with some sort of elegant lace-ribbon-net contraption he’d never seen, which served to both hold the locks back and allow a few to escape and brush against the curve of her neck, and the smooth skin of her exposed shoulders.

The light blue dress had gold embroidery along the hem, the sleeves and even…

underneath the part of her clothed body he knew better than to let his eyes linger upon…

which they seemed stubbornly determined to do, irregardless.

He swallowed hard, turning his head slightly, as if to avoid her the way he’d avoid the direct burn of gazing into the sun.

She offered him a smile then, not mocking, as he had half-feared, but soft.

Welcoming. Far less intimidating than she’d been at the card table.

“I wasn’t sure if you meant what you said,” she murmured, her voice low like the crackle of the fire.

“But indeed, you are here. May I pour a glass of wine?”

Alexander cleared his throat and held up the basket awkwardly. “Dinner, milady. It seemed the least I could do.”

She arched a brow in amusement and took it from him with a graceful curtsy. “Then we are evenly matched in generosity.”

“Did you take me for a man who would forget the meal?”

“I took you for a man, which is a being who is known to be forgetful, yes.” There was a playfulness in her tone that he’d not heard before now.

It made him think of summertime, somehow, even while gently mocking his gender.

Given the fact he’d nearly forgotten his own cravat that night, he supposed she was more than a little accurate in her comment.

They moved to the table, the ease of her manner disarming him more than he cared to admit.

She poured the wine with an elegant hand, offering him a glass before seating herself.

The playfulness vanished, replaced by an elegance equal to any he’d seen in a ballroom.

Lydia was quite the enigma, he decided. Somehow both teasing and graceful, coy and confident.

It was that charm he’d noticed at the card table, which impressed him even more now.

Lydia, he realized, was not the type of person to ever hide behind a potted plant, nor back down from a challenge.

For a moment, they were silent, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. “It’s very kind of you,” he began, unsure even as the words left his mouth, “to invite me here.”

“Kindness had little to do with it,” Lydia replied lightly. “I wished to spare you the trouble of ruining your reputation for my sake.”

“Beg your pardon,” he froze, midway through unpacking the basket. The loaf of bread wobbled in his hand.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you truly think having a woman like me in your home would be good for your social standing? Everyone knows a gentleman is forgiven his vices, provided they occur in private.”

“Thanking my savior of the card table is far from a vice!”

“Befriending a woman of loose morals is.”

Alexander scoffed. “You saved me from losing all the money I had, and then some. Your morals seem fine to me.”

There was a long, long pause as she watched him, those bewitching hazel eyes raking over his form as if he was a work of art to be studied.

He tried his best to meet their gaze. A small voice in his head, one that sounded a great deal like Higgins, chided him, pointed out he knew quite well what she was implying, and that he was being deliberately obtuse.

The rest of him was too filled with annoyance that society’s rules could be so suffocating to cause such a mess in the first place.

Lydia smiled again, and it was just as sharp as it had been the first time he’d seen it. “I am a woman who goes where she wishes, drinks when she wants and beds who she chooses. Those three things are more than enough to damn me, according to any member of the Ton.”

“And yet they are the same principles a man lives by, and the Ton finds nothing disagreeable about those rakes' actions.”

“ Rakes?” She raised her eyebrow. “Are you insinuating I am one of those ne'er-do-wells?”

He blushed. “No, I just meant that?—”

She burst into delighted laughter. “I do not find it an insult, not in the least. If I am perceived as no different from a man who has made pleasure his primary pursuit, then I shall accept that lot in life gladly.”

He glanced down at the provisions in the basket. “If your only reason for inviting me here was to prevent scandal, then I shall not allow it.”

”Scandal is not exactly something that is allowed or disallowed by one person,” she murmured. “Not even if they are an earl.”

He brushed a hand over his face. “I, uh. What I mean to say is that I am a man of my word.” Though not particularly a man of means.

“I told you I wished to thank you for your assistance, and I do very much intend to do so. Me being here, eating your food, and taking up your time with my rambling, is certainly not the thanks you deserve”

”Your cook must be legendary, if his food is worthy of such words,” she mused.

”He is, uh, indubitably so.” In truth, their cook was a doting old man who had very little in the way of hair, hearing, or culinary talent. But still. It was the very principle of the thing. She deserved to be thanked.

”You are rather adamant about that.” Her voice had taken on a husky note, which sent a pleasant shiver down Alexander’s spine, momentarily confusing him, until he realized she’d answered an unspoken statement.

Which meant either she was capable of reading minds, or he was incapable of keeping his thoughts as silent as he’d planned to.

Given the smile on her face, he’d guess the latter. “I just… it was such a noble thing you did, and I am in your debt and…” aware he could not pay her back in a financial manner.

”It is rather enjoyable to have a man such as you beholden to me.” She’d stepped forward, trapping him in his chair. The hem of her dress brushed against his legs, and he focused all his attention on the glittering thread work of the embroidery.

It appeared to be real gold, which was more of the precious metal than he’d seen in some time. And yet, his attention stubbornly refused to be held by the intricate needlecraft, and instead wandered back up to her face. Her beautiful, mischievous face.

She was practically straddling him, her legs on either side of his own.

He’d never been in such close proximity to a woman alone before.

Head spinning, he resolved to avoid such a thing in the future, for he felt he might faint.

“A man such as me?” He cleared his throat, wishing he might be able to loosen his cravat.

Such a thing was not done, though, granted, such a thing as what they appeared to be close to doing now was also not the most… proper of things.

“Did you truly only want dinner tonight?”"

“Are you…seducing me?” His voice nearly broke on the word and he winced.

“No, my lord, I’m clearly attempting to engage you in a game of charades.”

Perhaps she was after his money? He wasn’t sure why else she would be…well.. doing what she was. “Don’t let the title fool you. I regret to inform you that I’m?—“

”I am assuming you’re broke,” she said flatly. “It doesn’t change the fact you’re rather adorable, especially when you’re blushing.” Her hand reached out, cupping his cheek, her thumb tracing down his jawline.

”How did you—but—” interrupting himself, Alexander insisted, “but I am not adorable.”

”Oh,” she leaned down, one hand on his shoulder, so their noses nearly touched.

It also provided him a glimpse — or more than a glimpse-of the swell of her breasts.

The curve of them was enchanting, enough for him to think of stories of sirens luring men to their doom, or Helen and the fate of Troy.

He’d never before understood those tales, never could fathom how desire would make a man so reckless.

But Lydia, with her confidence and teasing, brought forth emotions Alexander had never felt before.

He lifted his gaze, deciding it was much safer to continue looking at her button nose. A very cute nose, as far as appendages went. Cute and safe. Safer than staring at any other part of her.

“I assure you,” she purred. “You are very adorable indeed.”

He reached one hand out to brush away that loose lock of hair that had tumbled away from the ribbons holding.

A simple, safe action. Except, in doing so, he accidentally ran his fingers down the curve of her neck.

Her skin was soft, warm, incredible. A slight moan escaped him as a new and urgent hunger arose within him.

His hand stroked lower over the bend of her shoulder, marveling at the soft skin.

He found himself no longer hungry for a meal, neither the one he’d brought nor the one she’d prepared.

Instead, he yearned for her, to taste her, to know her.

His hand continued the caress, and Lydia leaned into the touch, like a cat.

And Alexander, he realized, was the poor little mouse she’d just caught.

Her lips parted, only slightly. A breathy sigh escaped them. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I am quite enjoying this.”

The hunger within him grew, heating his whole body.

First, he loosened the cursed cravat. Then, he closed the distance between them.

Their lips met in a rush. His kiss was clumsy, unpracticed, yielding to her considerable skill.

Her lips coaxed him, toyed with him, ignited a fire he’d never known.

The inferno burned hotter as the kiss deepened, fueling a desire he found himself caving toward.

His hands, clumsy, perhaps, but still strong enough to span her hips, pulled her toward him.

She let him guide her, until she rested on his lap, the pressure of her, the warmth of her, making him moan again.

His mouth dropped lower to her neck, feeling her pulse thrum beneath his touch.

Though her heart raced, he was sure his beat in double time.

Lydia’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, as if to guide him, leading his kisses down to her collarbone, her chest, her…

Alexander pulled back, his face flushed and eyes wide. “Luncheon,” he said, quite breathless indeed. “I shall have you over for luncheon, and then I shall court you properly, Miss Lydia.”

“Court?” she echoed.

He’d been a fool to gamble in a game of cards, but now, he realized, he was willing once more to risk everything. Not for wealth, but rather, to chase that reckless, incredible thrill he’d felt when her lips had touched his. “Indeed,” Alexander murmured. “For I find myself quite entranced by you.”

“So are many others.” Lydia, still sitting in his lap as if it was a throne she’d claimed, rested a hand on his shoulder to better look down at him.

“I’m not them,” he replied, his confidence faltering as he spoke. For surely the others had more wealth, more charisma, and more experience in seduction than him.

“No, you are not.” She bent in to steal one more kiss, her teeth grazing over his lips and sending shivers down his spine.

Then, she slipped out of his arms, as lightly as a dancer.

A sudden coldness settled in, an aching loss of what had felt so right to hold.

“You are far sillier, I think, and much sweeter.”

“So, is that an acceptance of my offer?”

She laughed, and this time, when she kissed him, it was directed at the tip of his nose, nothing more. “Luncheon? Yes. Courting? We shall see.”