In any event, Tiffany’s suitors, Leighton and Rutherford included, would be sent along their merry way soon enough. And, as an added boon, the announcement of his engagement would finally rid him of the unwanted attention he received from Society’s marriage-minded debutantes and their overly zealous mothers once and for all. He managed a slight smile at the thought. If he had to surrender his blessed freedom, at least there was that.
As Tiffany took a seat alongside Brendon Leighton, she had to admit that she was looking forward to the night’s entertainment, if for no other reason than to distract her, at least temporarily, from her seemingly incessant thoughts of Alex.
Once everyone had taken their seats, one of the Leighton’s liveried footmen stepped forward, carrying a lighted torch. Walking toward the large mound of timber that had been erected directly in front of the semi-circle of chairs, he touched the torch to several places within the pile of dry wood. Within seconds the stack of cut timbers burst into a blazing pillar of fire, its mass of red and orange flames shooting several feet into the air. As the crowd oohed and awed their appreciation, their attention was suddenly drawn to the unmistakable sound of music coming from somewhere within the dark shadows of the neighboring trees.
As Tiffany watched in wide-eyed fascination, a parade of colorfully-clothed men playing a variety of musical instruments emerged from the darkness of the trees. As they made their way to the fire it became readily apparent by both their exotic coloring and atypical form of dress that they were gypsies. “Oh, how wonderful,” she gasped, grinning from ear to ear.
“Just wait,” Brendon said as he glanced toward her, flashing a wide, knowing smile.
Within minutes the musicians had spilt into two smaller groups, aligning themselves on opposite sides of the fire. Then, as Tiffany gaped in astonishment, a dozen barefooted women dressed in vibrantly-colored shirts and flowing, calf-length skirts trimmed in jingling bells and sparkling beads burst from the trees, dashing toward the fire, spinning and twirling, their multicolored skirts flying wildly about their legs. They encircled the fire, clapping their hands to the beat of the music as they danced, the bracelets they wore on their arms and legs tinkling melodically as they moved. Watching them, Tiffany marveled at their graceful, uninhibited movements and gazed in wonder at their wildly expressive faces. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before and she was utterly transfixed.
From his position, hidden within the shadows of the house, Alex found himself gazing far more often at Tiffany than he did at the exotic, scantily clad women cavorting around the fire. He’d discovered that when she turned her head to the side, he could see her face, her profile lit perfectly by the brilliant glow of the leaping flames. He watched the changing expressions on her face, delighting in the pure sense of joy and wonder reflected upon her angelic features. Would marriage truly be so terrible, he mused, with Tiffany as his bride? Only time would tell, he supposed. Lifting the glass to his lips, he drank deeply. Lowering it a moment later, he felt a slight fuzziness in his head. Gazing at the heavy crystal tumbler, he surmised that he’d had far more to drink that night, than he’d had to eat.
Oh what the hell, he reasoned, it wasn’t every day a man found himself engaged to be married. And with that, he promptly drained the remainder of the fiery liquid, relishing in the burning heat as it traveled down his throat.
Although the night air had been cool when they’d made their way outside, it hadn’t been unpleasant. Now however, as the evening progressed, Tiffany had begun to feel the growing chill in the air, despite the heat emanating from the fire. Glancing in the direction of the two footmen who stood in attendance nearby, she thought to request one of them to fetch her wrap for her. However, looking at their faces, it was clear to see that they were both engrossed in the goings on before them.
Though she was loath to miss even a moment of the gypsy’s marvelous performance, she understood that the life of a servant wasn’t an easy or necessarily rewarding one, and she was reluctant to ask either of the young men to do what she could easily do herself, not when they were so obviously enjoying themselves.
“Will you excuse me for a moment,” Tiffany said to Brendon a few moments later.
Turning, he looked at her in surprise.
“I shall be right back. I’m just going up to the house to fetch my wrap,” she explained.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Brendon replied. “I’ll have one of the footmen fetch it for you,” he suggested helpfully. “Did you leave it in your bedchamber?”
Grasping his arm as he was about to rise, she motioned for him to remain seated. “No, no,” she insisted. “I would prefer to go myself. My legs could use a bit of a stretch and it will only take but a minute.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“Yes, of course,” she assured him.
“Alright then,” he reluctantly agreed. “But do hurry back, lest you miss too much of the show.”
She nodded. “I won’t be long.”
Fortunately, she and Brendon were seated near the end of the row, so her leave-taking drew little notice from the other guests as she rose from her chair.
Whatever was she about, Alex wondered, as he watched Tiffany rise from her chair and begin walking toward the house? Straightening, he pushed himself away from the wall against which he’d been leaning for the past quarter hour, swaying ever so slightly as he did. Looking at Tiffany, so exquisitely beautiful in her ivory silk and lace gown, he couldn’t suppress the rush of physical desire that flowed through his veins like molten silver as she approached. Stepping from the shadows he moved into the moonlight as she drew near.
Detecting a movement from the corner of her eye, Tiffany turned to see what it was that had drawn her attention. “Oh, Alex, you startled me,” she gasped, surprised to see him standing there.
“Forgive me,” he said apologetically. “I assure you that it was not my intention to frighten you.”
“No, of course not,” she acknowledged, smiling hesitantly.
“Are you not enjoying the performance?” he asked, though he was quite certain that she was.
“Oh no. That is, I am enjoying it immensely,” she clarified. “It’s just that I was becoming a bit chilled and was merely going to fetch my wrap.”
“You needn’t miss the show,” he said. “You should have sent one of the footmen for it.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just that…” she trailed off, embarrassed to admit why she hadn’t done exactly that.
Alex eyed her curiously. “Just that-?
Tiffany was glad that the darkness hid her reddening cheeks. “Well…they seemed to be enjoying it so, and I…”
Despite the alcohol clouding his thoughts, understanding dawned at once. “You didn’t wish to deprive them of their own enjoyment,” he finished for her.
She nodded bashfully.
“Not many people of our station would show such consideration to a member of the serving class,” he said, surprise and admiration evident in his tone.
“No, I suppose not,” she conceded.
Alex gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You never cease to surprise me,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
For a moment she seemed unable to move, held in place by the sheer intensity of Alex’s penetrating gaze.
In that instant, Alex had the insane urge to pull Tiffany into the shadows and once again taste the delicate sweetness of her full pink lips. Despite the warning bells clanging in his head, he took a step toward her, wanting, needing to touch her, if only for a moment. Raising his hand, he brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw, lightly stroking the soft, smooth texture of her skin. “You’re just as lovely on the inside as you are on the outside, aren’t you?”
“I…” she trailed off, held breathless by the slow, gentle movement of his thumb.
The sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, immediately followed by the unmistakable patter of approaching footsteps, startled them both. Rather
than releasing Tiffany, Alex abruptly grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into the shadows, spinning her against the wall and hiding her behind his large frame. “Shh, quiet,” he whispered against her ear.
They remained perfectly still, waiting in tense, nerve-wracking silence until the footsteps faded. Releasing the breath from her lungs in a faint exhale of relief, Tiffany could only imagine what might have happened if they’d been discovered like that. “I think whoever it was is gone now,” she whispered, patently aware that Alex was still holding her securely in his grasp, the entire length of his muscular body pressed firmly against hers.
“Hmm,” he murmured against her hair, breathing in the faint, floral scent. She must have bathed and washed her hair before dinner, he reasoned.
“Alex, I…” she faltered then, as he drew in a lungful of air and then slowly released it, his warm breath like a feather-soft caress along the sensitive column of her neck. He didn’t release her, but rather tightened his hold just the tiniest bit instead.
“You smell like lavender,” he breathed, brushing his nose lightly against the silky texture of her hair.
She noted the unmistakable scent of liquor on his breath. Clearly he’d been drinking. Was he foxed, she wondered? Should she insist that he release her at once, before someone else passed by and perchance stumbled upon them? Yes, of course she should! But despite her good sense, she foolishly ignored her better instincts and remained perfectly still instead. Then, as she felt the soft brush of his lips against her throat, she couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to.
Though he knew better, he seemed unable to help himself as his lips skimmed ever so lightly along the curve of her throat. “What is it about you,” he murmured, “that causes me to lose all reason?”
The softly uttered question sent a delicious thrill racing through Tiffany’s body. In spite of what had happened earlier, he still wanted her, and she reveled in the knowledge.
“Have you bewitched me?” he asked more to himself than to her, as his lips moved to trail along the delicate line of her jaw. “Is it a spell that you’ve cast over me?” he mused, as his lips continued their wayward journey, placing feather-light kisses along the softness of her cheek.
Tiffany could scarcely believe what was happening, especially considering how they had left things that afternoon at the cottage. Was he toying with her, she wondered briefly? No, surely he wouldn’t do such a thing, she reasoned. So what then? Was it merely the liquor he’d consumed or had something changed? She tried to focus, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as Alex’s lips drew ever closer to hers. When they reached them at last, she was helpless to do anything but surrender.
Cautiously, he sought to gauge Tiffany’s reaction as his lips began to move gently against hers. She responded instantly, parting her lips in an unmistakable invitation. His control diminishing by the second, he ravaged her lips and the inner softness of her mouth with a passionate intensity; a sudden, unassailable hunger he struggled to keep in check.
Reaching upward, Tiffany twined her arms about his neck, pressing herself closer against him as she returned his kiss with a fervid zeal.
Spinning her around, Alex pushed her backward, the seal of their lips unbroken as he moved them further into the shadows until Tiffany’s back was pressed firmly up against the wall of the house.
For Tiffany, the rough, stone wall at her back could have been the softest of mattresses, for she felt nothing but the absolute pleasure of Alex’s embrace. In truth, if it meant never having to let him go, she would have gladly stood there for eternity.
“God how I want you,” Alex uttered hoarsely, when he finally dragged his lips from hers.
“Yes, please,” Tiffany sighed, no longer able to think coherently, no longer able to think of anything at that moment other than what Alex was making her feel. Desire, not unlike the burning flames of the distant bonfire, seemed to course through her veins like liquid heat.
Reaching up, Alex grasped the shoulders of her gown and pulled them downward, allowing her naked breasts to spill free from her close-fitting bodice.
Tiffany gasped as the cool night air touched her exposed skin, but the warmth of Alex’s hands swiftly chased the chill away. Nuzzling her neck with his lips, Alex fondled her breasts, running his thumbs in tantalizing circles around her taut nipples. Clutching at his shoulders, she fought to keep her legs from buckling beneath her. But then, when he dipped his head, his lips working in connection with his hands to intensify the exquisite torture, she quickly lost the battle.
As Tiffany sagged against him, Alex raised his head while dropping his hands to her waist, keeping her upright. Looking into her passion-glazed eyes, he wanted desperately to lay her down upon the soft grass and strip every last bit of clothing from her body. But of course he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to. Even his drink befuddled mind recognized that. Damn, but he had already allowed things to go much too far already.
“Alex,” Tiffany moaned, tightening her arms, trying to draw him back.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers as he drew in a ragged breath, fighting for control. “Not here, not now,” he said, breathing heavily. “Not like this.” Holding her tenderly as she slowly awakened from her sensual haze, Alex waited patiently until she stood steadily upon her own two feet and then determinedly pulled her gown up onto her shoulders.
Though she didn’t want him to stop, slowly her head was clearing. Not here? Not now? Was that what he’d said? Was he implying that there would be a time, a time when it was right? Her heart skipped a beat. She tried to see the expression on his face, but the darkness hid it from her.
“Go Tiffany,” he said, turning about and pushing her gently away from him with sheer determination of will. “Go now, before I lose what remaining sanity I have left and take you right here.”
She could almost feel the internal battle waging within him. Lifting her hand, she pressed it softly against his cheek. She didn’t want to go. “Alex-”
“Go!” he uttered roughly, though it sounded more like a plea than a command.
Dropping her hand, she hesitated for one brief moment, then turned and reluctantly walked away, hugging the shadows until she neared the front of the house.
Hastening from the house a few minutes later, her wrap draped securely around her shoulders, Tiffany hurried back to her seat near the fire.
“You were gone for rather a long time,” Brendon noted as she sank onto her chair. “Is everything alright?”
“Unfortunately, my wrap wasn’t where I thought I’d left it,” she dissembled, smiling sheepishly, “so I had to do a bit of searching.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say that you missed the jugglers,” he informed her. “But you are just in time for the grand finale,” he continued, excitement glinting in his blue eyes and enlivening his handsome features.
She smiled brightly, doing her best to appear excited, but her thoughts were still centered upon Alex as she settled back into her seat.
It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when a large, barrel-chested man with a bald pate and a wicked-looking eye-patch began to flick two long, fiery whips wildly about his head and chest, while two other men walking upon tall wooden stilts, breathed massive plumes of fire from their mouths, that her attention was effectively redirected.
“Wasn’t that the most remarkable performance?” Miss Banning asked animatedly, as she and Lady Cranbrooke walked alongside Tiffany toward the house.
“It was indeed,” Tiffany readily agreed. She’d heard tales of gypsy performers, but until tonight she’d never seen an actual gypsy in person. Nor had she ever seen anyone perform such spectacular, death-defying stunts. It had truly been a fantastic and remarkable experience and a night she would never forget, for more reasons than one.
“Bravo to the duke and duchess for arranging for such marvelous entertainment,” Lady Cranbrooke exclaimed. “I simply cannot wait to tell everyone all about it.”
&nb
sp; As Miss Banning and Lady Cranbrooke prattled on, Tiffany cast her searching gaze this way and that as they crossed the front lawn, but she saw no sign of Alex. Not now, not like this. The words played themselves over and over in her mind as she walked. Knowing that they would both be leaving the next morning, along with the Leighton’s other remaining houseguests; she struggled to put meaning to his words. Did he intend to see her again? And if so, how and when? Was it possible that he might be rethinking his views regarding marriage? No, surely that was just wishful thinking on her part, her inner voice cautioned. But what did he mean then? The fact that she simply had no idea as to what Alex’s intentions were, was frustrating beyond words. But then again, she reasoned, it was quite possible that what he’d said had meant nothing of consequence at all. He had been drinking, she reminded herself.
Regrettably, the following morning at breakfast Tiffany was no closer to ascertaining Alex’s intentions than she had been the night before. Seated across the table from one another once again, he’d bid her a polite good morning and had then promptly turned his attention to the fully-laden plate that had been placed before him.
Looking down, the heaping plate of kippers and eggs that would have customarily whetted his appetite, instead had Alex’s stomach rolling. Swallowing the vile, bitter taste in his mouth, he reached for a piece of buttered toast and took a small bite off the end. His head was pounding in a ceaseless rhythm and he felt as if he’d just gone ten rounds with one of London’s famed prizefighters. Unfortunately however, despite the copious amount of alcohol he consumed, he still recalled each and every detail of the previous evening’s events, including the fact that he’d very nearly relieved the lovely Tiffany Marlowe of her innocence on Nicholas and Ashleigh’s front lawn. Bloody hell, whatever had he been thinking? Blast it, he hadn’t been thinking, and that was the very crux of the problem. When it came to Tiffany, he somehow managed to lose the ability to think rationally. It was as uncharacteristic as it was vexing, and it was beginning to make him question his own mind.
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