With his gaze steady on hers, he offered her a formal bow. “Dashing in a bauble-like way … thank you, Miss Markham. That is the nicest thing I’ve heard all evening.”
She laughed, a warm, husky magical sound that enveloped him like a heated blanket. “And I know a Banbury tale when I hear one, sir. I’m certain you’ve been smothered with compliments all evening.”
A humorless sound escaped him. “I can’t deny I’ve felt smothered all evening.”
Her amused expression changed to one of confusion. “You’re not enjoying the party?”
“In truth, no. Actually, I couldn’t wait to escape for a few minutes and seized the first opportunity to do so.” He didn’t add that he’d immediately made that opportunity happen when he’d seen her in the gallery. “I don’t particularly care for crowds.”
“Nor do I. Thus my skulking about in the corridors.”
“Are you enjoying the paintings?”
“Very much. There are some exceptionally fine portraits here.”
“And also some rather hideous ones.” He moved a bit further down the corridor, then nodded toward a large gilt-framed painting. “This one, for example.”
Miss Markham joined him and leaned forward to peer at the painting of Alec’s great-great-great-grandfather. Her shoulder brushed his and he pulled in a quick breath—one that filled his head with her subtle floral scent. Unable to stop himself, he bent his head closer to her and breathed in again. Bloody hell, she smelled good. Like summer in the country—flowers and sunshine with a bit of spice thrown in.
“He is quite …” She turned toward him and her words trailed off. Her face was less than a foot away from his. If he leaned forward just a little bit, he’d be able to touch his lips to hers, a realization that hit him like a steamy slap. She took a quick step back and her shoulders bumped the wall next to the painting. A lifetime of manners demanded he step back as well.
Instead he stepped forward and planted one hand on the wall next to her head.
Her quick intake of breath sent a dark thrill through him, one he couldn’t explain and was apparently helpless to control because in spite of his better judgment and common sense, both demanding he move away from her, he instead leaned closer.
“He is quite what, Miss Markham?”
She moistened her lips, a gesture that had him fisting his hand against the paneling. “He is quite … formidable.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. And forbidding. As a child I always found that painting frightening. I hated walking down this corridor alone. The image seemed to watch me, and every time I walked by I feared he’d reach out and grab me.”
“You’ve obviously overcome your fear.”
“True. But I’m not alone.” No, instead he stood improperly close to a woman to whom he needed to confess his darkest secret, his deepest shame. A woman whose nearness had his heart pounding hard enough to bruise his ribs. Bloody hell, not one of the more than two dozen society diamonds he’d danced and conversed with this evening had affected him like this … like he’d been walloped in the head. And set on fire.
He’d received many smiles tonight, but only one had enchanted him. Heard many compliments, but they’d all merely sounded like empty words until he’d come to the gallery and heard this woman call him dashing. Every gorgeous woman he’d danced with had lips, but only this woman’s fascinated him. And tempted him beyond all reason. She hadn’t been out of his thoughts all evening. He couldn’t explain his reaction to her, but by God, there was absolutely no denying it.
“No, you’re not alone,” she whispered.
“You’re not afraid he’ll reach out and grab you?”
Her gaze searched his, and Alec forced himself to remain still, to not give in to the craving clawing at him to press her against the wall and find out if she felt as soft and luscious as she looked.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid.”
“Perhaps you should be.”
“Perhaps. But I’m not.”
The need to touch her could no longer be denied and Alec reached out and ran a single fingertip down her cheek. Soft. God, she was indeed soft. Her eyes appeared huge behind her spectacles, but he saw no sign of fear. Rather, he saw a vulnerable longing. And a trembling desire. Both of which set him afire—a flame that burned even hotter when her moist lips parted slightly and he could hear her quickening breaths.
The muted party sounds coming from the drawing room below filled with the young women from whose ranks he was expected to choose a wife all faded away, replaced by the potent need roaring through him, a raw desire unlike anything he could recall ever before experiencing. A need he simply could not ignore. One that incinerated every reason why he shouldn’t, couldn’t kiss her.
With his heart beating so loud she surely could hear it, he cupped her face between his hands, then leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. If he’d been capable of doing so, he would have laughed in disbelief at the inferno that whisper of a touch ignited in him. He heard a thump, and it vaguely registered that she’d dropped her sketch pad. She stilled beneath his hands, and for several agonizing seconds he thought she meant to push him away. End this madness. Because God knows, he wasn’t capable of doing so. But then she expelled a shaky breath, wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips. And sealed her fate.
Alec settled his mouth on hers and everything faded away, everything except her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the delicious, silky warmth of her mouth. A growl rumbled in his throat and he clasped her tighter against him. God, it had been so long since he’d held a woman. Kissed a woman. And this woman tasted so damn good. Warm and sweet and seductive. And she felt so bloody damn good. As if she’d been cast from a mold to perfectly fit in his arms.
Any chance he might have had of listening to the bit of sanity attempting to fight its way through the fog of lust engulfing him was obliterated when she squirmed against him and opened her mouth wider beneath his.
Need shuddered through him and without breaking their kiss he turned them. With his shoulders pressed against the wall, he spread his legs and pulled her into the V of his thighs. It felt as if she melted against him, wax to his burning flame. With a groan he plunged his hands into her soft hair, scattering pins, releasing a mass of curls that unfurled down her back. He wrapped the silky tresses around his fist and gently urged her head back. Kissed his way along her jaw, then trailed his tongue down the gentle slope of her neck.
Although his conscience yelled Stop! the demand was drowned out by the mantra of More! pounding through him. His mouth founds hers once again, and one lush tongue-mating kiss melded into another. He ran one hand down her back to her buttocks and press her more firmly against his erection while his other hand came forward to cup her breast. She gasped and arched into his palm. Even through the layers of her clothes he could feel her hard nipple. Bloody hell, he wanted to strip away every bit of her clothing. With his teeth. Then simply devour her. Somehow a modicum of sense prevailed, warning him that if he didn’t stop this—immediately—that’s precisely what he would do.
It required every ounce of his will to lift his head. Breathing hard, he looked down. And groaned again at the sight of her. Ragged breaths puffed from between her kiss-swollen lips. Shiny dark curls lay in wild disarray around her shoulders, and he could clearly see the outline of her hardened nipples through her gown. Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, and their lenses were completely fogged over. He reached out a less-than-steady hand and slipped off the spectacles to reveal that her eyes were closed. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose to half-mast, as if she were awakening from a long slumber. She looked flushed and aroused and delightfully undone by his impatient hands and by God, it took all of his will not to kiss her again.
Somehow, without even trying, this woman had obliterated a lifetime of gentlemanly breeding and the fierce control under which he’d operated as an army officer. Shame hit him like a blow to the head. Bloody hell, he didn
’t know what had come over him. He’d never treated a woman with such a shocking lack of finesse. Had never lost command over himself like that.
An apology was in order, but he couldn’t form the words. Not when the only word reverberating through his mind was again. Gritting his teeth against the need still hammering him, he took her by the shoulders and firmly set her away from him. Forced himself to release her. And say the words she deserved.
“Miss Markham, I owe you an apol—”
She cut off his words by touching her fingertip to his lips. “Please don’t say you’re sorry.” Her voice sounded soft, husky, and not quite steady. She took her glasses from him and slipped them back on. “If you’ll excuse me, I wish to retire.”
She turned to leave. Alec reached for her hand, but she eluded him. “Miss Markham, I—”
“It’s time for you to return to your party, Captain Trentwell,” she said firmly. “Good night.”
Alec watched her hurry away, then stared at the corner where she turned long after she’d vanished from his sight. Finally he roused himself from the stupor into which he’d fallen and looked down. And saw her sketch pad. He picked it up and again studied the drawing of him dancing with a young woman whose name he couldn’t have recalled even if his life had depended upon him doing so. As if on cue the sound of the string quartet striking up another waltz broke through the haze engulfing him.
As Miss Markham had stated, it was time for him to return to his party. To find a wife. Among the dazzling array of society chits lining the drawing room like a banquet feast.
The problem was that the only woman who’d piqued his hunger tonight wasn’t part of the menu.
Chapter Six
The next morning Alec strode into his brother’s private study and halted in front of the enormous mahogany desk. “We need to talk, William.”
William looked up from the London Times spread before him. His sharp gaze assessed Alec and while Alec knew his brother would see signs of the sleepless night that had plagued him, it was clear William hadn’t slept well either. Dark circles shadowed the light blue eyes he’d inherited from their father, and his thick blond hair—another gift from their father—looked as if he’d tugged his hands through it. “I’m surprised to see you up so early after last night’s party,” William said.
“Army hours are ingrained, I’m afraid. What is your excuse?”
“A great deal on my mind. As it happens, I need to talk to you as well.”
Although Alec was anxious to speak his mind, he said, “All right. You first.”
William indicated the chair opposite him. “You should sit.”
Alec’s brows rose at his brother’s serious tone and expression. At eight and thirty, William was six years his senior, and as such had always felt an obligation to look after Alec. While Alec loved his brother and appreciated his concern, he didn’t require looking after. Ever since his return from the war, all he wanted was peace, quiet, and solitude. William, however, filled with well-meaning but misguided intentions, was determined to drag him back into Society. Thus Alec’s escape to Little Longstone. Where he would be right now had William not needed and asked for his help.
After seating himself Alec said, “Clearly something is amiss.”
“I’m afraid so.” William folded his hands on the desk and regarded Alec through troubled eyes. “It concerns Miss Markham. There’s a … problem.”
Alec gripped the wooden arms of his chair. Damn it, this undoubtedly had to do with their encounter last night. “Is she … ill?”
“No.”
Relief flooded Alec. “Then what is wrong?”
“I heard some disturbing news about her last evening.”
Alec’s relief turned to frustration with the realization that news of Miss Markham’s Italy scandal was clearly already making the rounds. “I see.”
“You don’t seem surprised, Alec.”
“If the news is regarding the incident in Italy that led to her dismissal from Bentley’s employ, I’m not.”
William nodded. “Yes, the story was on everyone’s lips last night, so of course you would have heard.”
He hadn’t taken note of any gossip. No doubt because he’d paid little attention to the party chatter before his interlude with Miss Markham, and absolutely no attention whatsoever to it afterward.
“Quite the debacle,” William continued. “Lord and Lady Bentley are most set against her.” He let out a long, tired-sounding breath and dragged his hands down his face. “This places us in a most awkward situation as she naturally cannot remain in our employ in light of this disturbing news. Of course you couldn’t have known when you commissioned her to paint our portraits—”
“On the contrary, I knew all about it.”
“How?”
“Miss Markham told me herself—before I employed her.”
William blinked, then frowned. “Then why did you hire her?”
“Many reasons.”
“Indeed? Since I cannot fathom even one why you’d ever consider bringing scandal into our home—not to mention the ire of Lord Bentley, a man I know and respect—I’d be interested in hearing them.”
“I disregarded any talk of impropriety as I believe Miss Markham was dismissed unfairly. The sculpture in question was not intended to be lascivious in nature. It was art, and no more scandalous than the statues produced by Michelangelo.”
“Surely you’re not comparing Miss Markham’s work with that of Michelangelo—who, by the way, was a man.”
“Yes—and if Miss Markham was a man, her talent would be celebrated rather than denigrated. And no, she isn’t Michelangelo, but she is extremely talented.”
“Be that as it may, if Jane and I had been aware of the situation, we would not have agreed to your hiring Miss Markham or allowing her to stay here.” William blew out a tired sigh. “You should have told us, Alec.”
“So you could react as you are now? No.” He leaned forward and kept his gaze steady on William’s. “You know her brother was my sergeant. He was all the family she had in the world. I feel a duty toward her.”
Concern mixed with frustration clouded William’s eyes. “Alec, you’re not responsible for the family members of every soldier who died at Waterloo.”
I am for those I killed. “I know. But in this case, her ability to support herself as an art instructor is now lost to her and I wish to help.”
“Then give her money and be done with it.”
“She would never accept charity. But she would accept a commission to paint my portrait. If you no longer wish for her to paint yours, that is your prerogative. However, I still intend for her to paint mine.”
William frowned. “It’s not that I’m unsympathetic to her plight, but given the circumstances, she cannot paint it here. I cannot allow any hint of scandal to touch Jane or the girls.”
“I understand. And not to worry. I’ve already decided upon other arrangements for Miss Markham.”
A bit of the tension eased from William’s face. “I trust these arrangements will be done in a timely manner?”
“My plan is that she’ll be gone from the house by this evening,” Alec assured him.
There was no mistaking William’s relief. “Excellent. Now that that’s settled, what did you wish to speak to me about?”
“Our family’s future. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve decided upon a bride.”
William’s expression cleared and his lips curved up in a satisfied smile. “I am indeed happy to know that. I knew that party would get the job done.”
“It did indeed.”
“Would have been impossible for you not to find someone amongst all those beautiful young women.” He chuckled. “I’m not certain I’d ever have been able to choose. Good thing you’ve always been the decisive sort.”
“Actually, the decision wasn’t all that difficult.”
William’s eye gleamed with a knowing look. “Ah. So one young lady in particular captured your interest
.”
“Yes, she did.”
“I knew it! Jane and I discussed this last night after we retired. We both suspected Cupid’s dart had found you, but we couldn’t agree with whom you were smitten. We made a wager, one I’m certain I’ve won.” William rubbed his hands together. “Heh, heh, heh. I’m going to greatly enjoy collecting my forfeit from my lovely wife. So tell me, who is the lucky lady?”
“Who do you think?”
“Lady Sarah Weston. I saw the way you looked at her during the quadrille.”
Alec didn’t bother to point out that whatever his expression may have been, it was merely to mask his boredom. “Sorry, no.”
William’s face fell. “Blast. So I suppose Jane was right. She picked Lady Melanie Springton.”
“No, not her either.”
William’s brows collapsed. “Well. Then it must be Miss Emily Fernbank.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Miss Adeline Bailey?”
“No.”
“Lady Caroline Worthington? Miss Elizabeth Chapman? Miss Helena Grainger?”
“No, no, and no.”
William tossed out several more names and Alec shook his head at each suggestion. Finally William blew out a quick laugh. “I officially surrender. Whom have you chosen?”
“Miss Penelope Markham.”
Alec watched confusion flicker in William’s eyes, followed by shock. Several seconds of the loudest silence Alec had ever heard swelled between them. Finally William said, “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, William. I’m going to ask Miss Markham to marry me.”
William shook his head. “No. You’re joking.”
“I assure you I’m perfectly serious.”
“Then you’re foxed.”
It Happened One Season Page 25
