by Donna Hatch
Margaret glanced back at Cole and something unspoken passed between them, reminding Alicia of the way she and Armand often communicated with a mere glance. Others used to comment on their finely tuned intuitive ability to converse in avenues beyond normal comprehension. A sharp pain shot through her heart. How she missed him!
Cole touched her arm. “Alicia?”
Alicia blinked and focused on Cole’s face, realizing her expression must have betrayed her thoughts. She forced a smile and turned to Cole’s sister. “I’m very pleased to meet you, my lady.”
Cole excused them from his sister with only a glance and placed his hand under her elbow, guiding her away from the crush. “What is it? You’re pale.”
She shrank from his touch and averted her gaze. “Nothing.”
“Do you wish to leave?”
“Ahh, the infamous Viscount Amesbury.” A booming voice drew their attention to an older gentleman who peered at them through a monocle.
Cole glanced at Alicia, worry creasing his face, but replied dutifully to the gentleman. “My lord.”
Alicia, grateful for the interruption, quietly excused herself to gather her wits before Cole had the opportunity to introduce her. She wound her way through the crowd to a seat.
Cole had suffered enough. If she revealed how deeply she still felt Armand’s loss, she would hurt him again. She remembered the tormented expression she witnessed in him every time the subject arose. He did not need her condemning behavior adding to it. She took a breath and released it slowly.
As the music began, the hostess arrived with a young man with dark curly hair. “Lady Amesbury, please allow me to introduce Sir Reginald.”
Alicia and the gentleman exchanged greetings and very proper pleasantries. Then he asked her for a dance.
In spite of her aching heart, Alicia managed a smile and accepted his arm. He was pleasant, if a bit too flirtatious. The dance had barely ended when another gentleman was presented to her and he, too, asked for a dance. Her mood lightened as she danced and conversed with her partners.
Cole arrived for a dance, begging for rescue from the harpies. She smiled up into his beautiful eyes, forgetting everything. The warmth of his hands, the glint in his eyes that alternated between playful and dangerous, the potent sensuality of his nearness, all combined into a force she could not easily deny. He awoke every nerve in her body.
At the close of the set, he bowed and stepped back as another arrived to claim a dance. Each partner varied in age and temperament but danced reasonably well. All lacked Cole’s athletic grace, his stirring masculinity, his potent gaze, his expressive mouth. No one had his quick wit, his ready smile, his manner of treating her as though she were the only woman in the room.
She had to purge him from her thoughts somehow. Such thoughts would only lead to heartache. And betrayal.
Remembering his plea to be saved from the ladies of the ton, she scanned the crush and finally found him in a circle of older gentlemen. He stood in urbane boredom, blatantly ignoring the ladies who did indeed seem to circle like great predatory birds awaiting his departure from his haven of male companionship.
One of the gentlemen said something to Cole and he nodded. The group moved toward an exit together. Cole paused, his eyes scanning the room until they fell upon her. His brilliant smile flashed and he mimed billiards. She smiled and nodded to show she understood. That would be a safe, if temporary, reprieve from the harpies. With a sheepish shrug, he left with the men, to the obvious disappointment of the ladies watching him.
One of Alicia’s partners tactfully pointed out that a piece of lace at her hem appeared to be dragging. She thanked him for the dance and the observation, and retreated to the withdrawing room, where a willing maid quickly stitched the lace back into place. After paying the maid a vail, Alicia smoothed her hair in the mirror and took a moment to make sure no other trimmings had come undone. A group of ladies came in, chattering like a gaggle of geese.
“Don’t worry, Josephine, he won’t spend all night in the billiards room,” a petite, plump brunette said.
“I will secure him this summer, just you watch. He always chooses a widow, something about not wanting to infringe upon a gentleman’s wife,” a redhead who must have been Josephine explained to another, much younger young lady.
The younger lady looked sorrowful. “Oh. So he wouldn’t agree to a liaison with me because I’m married, then?”
“Oh, no. Besides, you’re much too young, Violet,” the plump brunette informed her with a knowing tone. “Lord Amesbury prefers ladies with more experience, and, therefore, skill.”
Alicia gave a start. They were discussing Cole.
A fourth giggled. “I’d be tempted to slip too much opium in my husband’s drink, if the result might be a romance with him.”
“But we must agree to still be friends no matter who he chooses this summer.”
There were murmurs of affirmative all around while Alicia’s heart sank. Standing frozen, for fear of drawing attention to herself, Alicia prayed they would leave soon. She did not want to know details of Cole’s debauchery.
“The problem is, he seems to be besotted by that country miss,” Josephine said. “Whenever he’s in public, he’s with her.”
“Who is she?” asked another.
“No one of consequence.”
“No, not his usual type. She seems rather, well, too innocent for his taste, if you know what I mean,” added the brunette. “And too young.”
“I heard she’s married, so he’s either breaking his earlier vow, or it’s an innocent friendship.”
“Innocent? Our viscount?” The ladies all laughed raucously.
Alicia forced her hands to relax when her nails dug into her palms. How dare they speak about Cole in such a manner! What did they know about him? Clearly none of them knew him. Cole was right; women only saw a conquest when they looked at him.
But was it true? Did he truly have a new affaire every summer? Was she his latest target?
“Well, you’ve had a romance with him, so it’s my turn,” the redhead informed them with an imperious wave. “And I will do whatever it takes to lure him to my bed. As long as we can keep any ideas of marriage out of his head, we’ll have him for a few more years.”
“He’ll have to marry sooner or later. After all, he’ll be an earl, and he has an obligation to his family line.”
“I’m sure a mere marriage won’t stop him from his dalliances.”
“I’m not so sure. He’s a difficult man to predict. But what a lover.” She heaved a lusty sigh.
“Well, we all know he never pursues virgins, so perhaps he’ll choose a widow for a wife. Why not one of us?”
The plump brunette’s eyes fell upon Alicia and her expression turned frosty. The chattering fell away and all eyes rested upon her. Their hostility rippled through the room.
Josephine sneered. “Oh. The latest favorite.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
“Enjoy him while you can, dearie. He won’t be yours much longer,” warned the redhead.
Alicia squelched her instinctive desire to make a hasty exit. Her clear duty, and her privilege, lay in protecting Cole from such shallow, vicious women.
She raised her chin. “If any of you possessed any depth of character, you’d know there is much more to Lord Amesbury than his looks or his fortune. Clearly, none of you possess the discernment to see the man inside.” She smiled victoriously at their amazed expressions. “Excuse me.” She swept past them.
Cole had returned from his billiards game when Alicia came out of the withdrawing room. His smile, genuine and affectionate, lit up his face as he wound his way through the crowd to her. His stare focused, and he appeared completely unaware of the ladies who followed him hungrily with their gazes.
When he reached her side, he raised her hand to his lips. “I’ve been looking for you. They’ve announced dinner.” He wound her hand through his arm and gave it squeeze. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
>
She tried to push back the haunting words of his debauchery the ladies had revealed, and managed a smile. “Very much. Have you evaded the harpies so far?”
He grinned. “The night is still young. I will need your continued protection, if you can drag yourself away from your many new admirers.”
At the table, Alicia found her name card several places away from Cole’s name card. He gave her a secretive smile and held out her chair before moving to his place. The young lady nearby tilted her head condescendingly. Someone introduced her as Miss Stockton.
Miss Stockton said, “Lady Amesbury. Ah, yes. You are married to that horrible cripple who never shows his face. How terrible it must be for you.” Her expression of triumph underscored her mocking pity.
Alicia raised her chin. “On the contrary.”
Miss Stockton shivered dramatically. “I’d rather remain unmarried than have a beast for a husband.”
“The baron is a kind and devoted husband, and I’ll thank you not to speak ill of him.” The hypocrisy of her words twisted in her stomach.
Guiltily, she glanced at Cole, who gave no indication he had heard the exchange. Then his eyes flicked her way briefly.
Even though she and Cole were not true paramours, they played a dangerous game which would surely lead to disaster if they continued. And, if the ladies in the withdrawing room were correct, she would only become one in a long line of illicit lovers should she succumb to his advances.
After dinner, the host made a toast to his grandfather. They all raised their glasses to the man who had reached his one hundredth birthday. The guest of honor gave them all a toothless grin, and in halting tones thanked them for their friendship.
Later, as the lights burned low and the strains of a waltz began, dancers sought out lovers and drew closer. Others left together in search of a more intimate setting. Cole drew her to the dance floor. She hesitated, but went with him.
“What is it, love?” he murmured, his warm breath stirring the tendrils next to her ear.
“Please don’t call me that,” she pled weakly.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t mean it.”
He eased her closer, his beautiful smile warming his face. “Do you want me to mean it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She steadied her breathing. “You should know.”
Cole’s intoxicating male scent permeated her senses. His light touch sent fire through her silk gown, awakening an undeniable ache for him. His smile deepened further and his eyes darkened with a longing that exceeded hers. The potency of his desire made hers even more acute.
No. Not him.
“Please.” She sounded plaintive, childlike to her own ears.
“Please, what, Alicia?” He asked in low, provocative tones.
A deep quiver began in the bottom of her stomach. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried,” he murmured close to her ear. His breath warmed her cheek and neck, and only succeeded in deepening her desire.
Several ladies circled purposefully. Cole needed to find a wife, if only to protect him from the lecherous women who had targeted him. And he was right, he needed an heir. Then why did he attempt an affair with a married lady instead of seeking a wife? She refused to be merely another conquest.
“And then what?” she asked. “Add my name to your rather long list?”
He pulled back enough to study her features. “What list?”
“The one that includes Josephine and Violet.”
A puzzled frown creased his brow and he pursed his lips. “Josephine Winchester?”
“I don’t know her surname, but she was a tall lady with red hair.”
Cole’s frown deepened. “That sounds like her. What list?”
“The one of all your past paramours. I heard them in the withdrawing room, discussing you and that you prefer widows and how you choose a new lover every year.”
With his mouth flattened into a line and a deadly serious darkening in his eyes, he led her from the dance floor without waiting for the end of the dance. He took her out of the ballroom and began to open doors until he found an empty room. He drew her inside, closed the door, and turned to her.
The look he fixed upon her left her with the urge to squirm. He shook his head slowly. “I had hoped you knew me by now.”
“I thought I did, but…” she trailed off helplessly.
“Remember the harpies? You clearly met them. I have a reputation, that’s true, but believe me when I say that it is grossly exaggerated. I have had few love interests. Not Josephine Winchester or anyone named Violet, whoever she may be. If they claimed to have been my lover, they are lying.”
Alicia looked hopefully up at him. She wanted to believe him, but the things they said about him seemed too much in line with his character. His charm, his magnetism, all exuded dangerous sensuality, which made believing him a philanderer all too easy.
She opened her mouth and then closed it. “You truly don’t choose a new lover every year?”
“Look, I have not been a saint, but I am not the libertine my reputation would suggest.” His blue eyes delved into hers. “You wouldn’t believe how many ladies have tried to seduce me. I suspect that, regardless of the outcome, they tell their friends they were successful, as if it’s some kind of accomplishment. According to rumor, others I have never touched boast of an affair, and of my… er… skill.” Decidedly uncomfortable, he looked away and cleared his throat.
Harpies. They were using him even worse than she thought. “I’m sorry. I should have known better than to listen to such vicious gossip.”
“I cannot even look at another woman; I only want you.”
Before she realized what was happening, or had time to be afraid, he gathered her into his arms. His lips found hers and gently, skillfully kissed her mouth, sending tingles throughout her body. He crushed her against him and drew deeper kisses from her until she completely melted against him. There was no fear, only sweet, velvet pleasure.
His lips moved from hers down to her throat where he kissed a tingling trail of flame, and then slowly worked up to her lips again. He deepened the kiss. Burning desire rose up inside of her. His lips moved over her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her temples. They returned to her lips again.
This time, her hunger matched his. Their ragged breathing became one. His taste, his scent, the warmth and power of his body flooded her senses. Kissing her until her head spun, he slowly laid her down on a nearby divan. As his mouth moved downward and he slipped her gown off one shoulder, a glimmer of conscience broke through.
“We mustn’t,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Don’t be afraid.” His mouth engulfed hers. Bright need flamed her body as he drew progressively hungrier kisses from her. There was no fear, only a driving ache for more.
Again, the conscience broke through. “Cole, please, we cannot do this.”
With a ragged groan, he raised his head, his lips swollen and moist from their kissing. His darkened eyes revealed passion she had never dreamed.
“Please, stop.” She hoped her voice sounded more determined than she felt.
His voice was achingly gentle. “I won’t hurt you.”
“This is wrong.”
“How can it be wrong? I love you, and I know you have feelings for me.” Desperation appeared in his eyes but he touched her face with unsurpassed tenderness, gliding a finger across her cheek and then brushing the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.
He loved her?
Tears burned her eyes. “I am married, Cole.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And I—”
“Please, don’t make this more difficult than it already is. You know this is wrong.” She pushed him away and sat up, still giddy from the force of his passion and her own that so quickly rose to meet it. Shame and confusion jumbled against each other. “You’re asking me to be unfaithful to my husband. You
would betray your childhood friend. Your kin.”
He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut, with no excuse to offer. He took several steadying breaths. “Alicia, if you weren’t married to Nicholas, would you—”
Her confusion transformed into anger. “I was just beginning to think you actually possessed some scruples, Cole Amesbury, or perhaps even—heaven forbid—a heart.” She made an inarticulate sound of derision. “I should have known. I don’t know why I let myself continuously be fooled by your deceptively pleasing face. Everything those women said about you is probably true. And any man who’d purposely shoot another man and let him die obviously has no heart!”
His breath caught sharply in the silence. He stared at her as if she’d slapped him. The color slowly drained from his face. Outside the room, voices and footsteps approached but passed by.
She shouldn’t have said that. She truly didn’t mean it. In her frustration, she had lashed out at him unfairly, hurting him, but it was too late to take it back. And if it drove him away, she would deserve it.
Besides, if this were his true character, even if she had married him, he would never be faithful. No man who would seduce his cousin’s wife had the moral fiber to stay true to his own vows. And such a man would only break her heart.
Cole turned away and rubbed his hand over his face before returning his gaze to her. “So that’s it?” The pain in his expression nearly crushed her.
Unable to speak, she lowered her eyes.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. After another deep breath, he stood, squared his shoulders, opened the door, and peered out. When he was satisfied that no one would see him leave the room, he stepped through the doorway.
“Tell Mary and Charles I took a hackney to White’s.” He stalked away.
Oh, how badly it hurt to know she’d wounded him!
Yet, perhaps it was better this way. Without him always so near, she may learn to love her husband, or at least truly be a wife to him. The baron deserved her fidelity. And Cole would be free to find a wife who would overlook his past indiscretions and give him his heir.
