by Ashley March
He would see every betrayal of her body and claim it for himself, tempting her only because he knew he could.
Willa stepped toward him, girding herself with her armor—a smile. If there was to be any hope at all, she prayed that she would find him just as weak. “Yes, that’s the truth,” she murmured. She clasped her hands about his shoulders and tilted her face up to his. “I wanted to kiss you, A lex.” She dragged her hands down his arms, pausing only momentarily at the bulge of his biceps, then again at the corded muscles of his forearms, which she could feel beneath his sleeves. “But you did want to kiss me, too, did you not? I wasn’t the only one who wanted, was I?”
His hand was still clasped around the key. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, then guided his hands to bracket her waist. He could trap her so easily like this, one short step sideways toward the desk. But she counted on the wary hunger she glimpsed in his eyes, the quickening of his breath . . . the way his hands tightened on her of their own accord, his fingers loosening about the key . .
.
Beyond the roar of the silence in the room as their gazes held, Willa heard the soft thump of the key as it fell to the ground. Perhaps they were both weak together. A n even more frightening thought.
She bent and scooped up the key, his fingers grasping at her as she moved, but as she turned and inserted the key inside the drawer’s lock, they fell away. She fumbled inside the drawer, down the length of it, to the very back. There was nothing . . . She heard the rustling of paper as she scraped against the far right corner and drew out her prize.
It was paper wrapping, not any sort of paper which would reveal the secrets of the dye. A thrill of hope flared—until that same hope died as she realized he could have the dye information somewhere else. He wouldn’t truly wish for her to know its location, after all.
its location, after all.
Still, she unwrapped the paper—its weight light enough for her to suspect nothing was actually held inside. Then she smiled: a reluctant curve of her lips.
“Thank you.”
She slipped her mother’s pendant deep inside her pocket.
“We found it after the first night you were caught.”
Her head snapped up. “You knew I was here before?”
A lex had moved around to the other side of the desk and taken a seat in one of the chairs. He leaned back, his chin propped on the heel of his palm as he watched her. “Of course. A nd yes, I also know that you’ve been following me everywhere else, too. Truly, Miss Stratton, you might find a more clever way of hiding yourself.” His gaze trailed down the length of her body. The heat in his eyes made her feel naked, though not an inch of skin below her neck was bare.
For a moment she almost wished she hadn’t moved out of his arms to retrieve the key. “Do you have the dye information?”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “A lthough I do appreciate the shirt and trousers you’ve donned for your nocturnal activities. I have no complaint about those.”
“Enough. I don’t care about three years ago. I don’t care about the kiss, and I don’t care about what you think about my clothes. A ll I want to know is whether you have the dye. Tell me.”
His dark gaze made a lazy ascent up the path of her body, an accompanying fire simmering beneath her skin wherever it touched. He met her eyes and smiled. “Of course.”
A nd that was when she knew: A lex Laurie was a far more terrible liar than she had ever been.
More than an hour later, Willa watched from a different spot outside Holcombe House. She saw the messenger arrive. She spied A lex’s shadow move about the windows that she now knew belonged to his study. A fter twenty-odd minutes had passed, A lex called for his carriage. When the coachman pulled it from the mews to the front and waited for A lex to emerge, Willa was inside. Curled up on the rear-facing seat, her knees to her chest as she pressed herself into the shadows.
She held her breath as the door opened and A lex climbed inside. She sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward when he didn’t request that either of the lamps be lit. Her fingers dug into her forearms and became numb as she counted each second that passed before the carriage shifted with the groom’s weight and the horses pulled the vehicle forward.
A ll the while, A lex never once looked in her direction.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it must have been at least ten minutes more when her legs became heavy with numbness also. Still, she didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound. She wasn’t fooling herself in thinking that they would travel all the way to their destination without him noticing her, of course, but the greater the distance from Holcombe House, the more likely it seemed that but the greater the distance from Holcombe House, the more likely it seemed that at least some part of her plan for getting the Madonna dye would work.
She no longer cared that desperation had become part of that strategy; the end result was all that mattered.
A fter probably another ten minutes, Willa relaxed. She let her head rest against the wall as she stared at A lex, who meanwhile stared out the carriage window into the night. Every so often they would pass a lamppost which would reveal a glimpse of his features. They felt like secrets—the full curve of his bottom lip, the cliff of his chin—secrets offered in the dark, for her and her alone.
“What I do not understand,” he mused aloud, turning his gaze toward her corner to pierce through her protective shadows, “is how well I seem to know you and how you don’t seem to know me at all.”
For a moment she considered pretending that she remained hidden; she liked him much more when he didn’t speak. “You didn’t know I would be here,” she protested, then gave a small groan as she extended her legs across her seat.
“You’re right; I didn’t know. Not until I climbed inside. Good God, you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
“You lied about the Madonna dye.”
“Of course I lied. I wanted you to think I already had it, just so you would stop doing such foolish things like this. I am weary of your presence, Miss Stratton.” Willa straightened. “Then we’re going to meet him? I was right?” She gave a little laugh of delight.
His response cut through her laughter. “No, Miss Stratton, I am going to meet with him.”
When, exactly, A lex wondered, had he begun to feel Willa Stratton’s presence?
He’d felt it earlier tonight, before Thomas the footman ever came inside to report on a suspicious person lurking outside the house. He hadn’t even needed the carriage door open to know that she would be inside. He could have demanded at that point that she get out and he would have gone alone to meet with Woolstone, and he knew that’s what he should have done, but somehow he found the anger and frustration at her presence across the carriage from him . . .
satisfying.
Letting her remain also meant that she would soon see him take possession of the dye information and then leave him alone, but in the meantime he felt rather .
. . enlivened . . . to know she was there, across the carriage, still plotting how she would best him and take the Madonna dye for herself.
Her hands spread wide. “We could both meet with him. He’s agreed to give it to you in any matter, hasn’t he? What harm would it do to allow me to accompany you?”
A lex bit back a grin. “Trying to lull me into a false sense of security, are you?
You will smile and flutter your eyelashes at him. You’ll no doubt try to convince him to surrender the information to you instead.”
In truth, the only way he could keep her from meeting Woolstone once they In truth, the only way he could keep her from meeting Woolstone once they arrived was to have the groom and coachman guard the door and keep her locked safely inside. A consideration he hadn’t yet dismissed.
She hesitated. Then: “Of course I will,” she acknowledged, and he could see the flash of her teeth in the darkness as she smiled. “You’re not afraid I’ll succeed, are you?”
“No.” He
laughed disbelievingly, as she probably expected. Humor appeared to be the new rule in the game they played; any currents of animosity remained cloaked among the shadows, and a tacit agreement had been made to ignore anything else that lay between them.
In keeping with this, A lex decided to pretend to ignore her and looked out the window on the carriage door again. Soon afterward Willa pried the blinds on her side away from the window and peered at the dark facades of the buildings passing by.
Then she sniffed.
A few minutes later, she sniffed again.
“You’re not crying because I’m going to win and get the dye, are you?” he asked warily.
“No!”
“Good.”
A nother minute passed. “What is that horrid smell in here? It smells like a rat’s carcass.” Her voice was nasal, as if she held her nose.
“What lovely words do flow from your lips, Willa.” He caught his breath at the inadvertent use of her given name.
“A nd my apologies,” he added, though his regret had nothing to do with saying her name. It had sounded like a foreign territory on his tongue, strange and exotic; somehow, just the thought of saying it again caused his heart to beat faster. He cursed. “We’ve scrubbed the damned thing from top to bottom and at least half a dozen times, but the smell remains. I’ve been meaning to purchase a new carriage. Kat believes Lord Holcombe died in this one.”
“What?” she screeched, scrambling off her seat and stooping in the middle of the swaying carriage.
“Sit down,” he said, tugging at her hand. “You’re going to get hurt, and I don’t want to have to send for a physician and be late for the appointment. Besides, I hardly think he died on your side, if that’s what worries you.”
“No, what worries me is that he died in here at all, and that smell— How did he die?” She sounded suspicious. Nauseated, too, but still suspicious.
“He . . .” A lex cleared his throat. Solemnly. “It is believed Lord Holcombe had too much to drink.”
“A nd that killed him?”
“It was most likely the inciting factor. The groom found him facedown in his own vomit and excrement upon arrival at Holcombe House.” Willa gagged. “Blehhhh—”
A lex flinched, immediately contrite. “I’m just teasing you. The physician said he A lex flinched, immediately contrite. “I’m just teasing you. The physician said he died from an issue with his heart. There was no vomit or excrement in the carriage.”
He eyed her with concern but was relieved to find her more focused on glaring at him than casting up her accounts. He grinned. “I’m sorry.” Her mouth pursed. “Then what is the smell?”
“We don’t know.”
A nd it didn’t matter, not right now. His hand was still holding hers, tugging her gently, insistently. His fingers remembered the shape of her hips beneath her boys’ clothes, the daze he’d felt when she’d suddenly disappeared to retrieve the fallen key. “Sit down before you fall, Willa.”
A t that moment the carriage took a sharp turn and she pitched to the side. She would have crashed into the door if not for A lex’s strong grasp. He growled and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her waist, hauling her back and onto his lap. “How can you become even more infuriating and obstinate the longer I know you? I didn’t think it possible.”
“I can sit on the seat, Mr. Laurie,” she said stiffly. “There’s no need for you to hold me.”
He chuckled and placed his lips at the curve in her neck, near the top of her spine. “But I find I always have a need to annoy you, Willa.” He couldn’t resist saying her name. Over and over.
She froze.
A moment later, A lex went still, then eased his mouth away.
“You kissed me,” she said calmly.
He sucked in a slow breath. “I did.”
“You don’t like me.”
“No, I don’t.”
He’d spoken the truth before: she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming. A nd sometimes she could be amusing. But he still didn’t like her. He tolerated her—
quite a bit.
A nd he wanted her; he couldn’t deny that.
Neither of them mentioned their conversation in the study.
“I’m fairly certain I don’t like you very much, either,” she said.
“Oh, I think you’re wrong.” A lex breathed across her shoulder and angled his head to study her, watching for any reaction: a shudder, perhaps, or a quick breath. He smiled when, in the faint light, he saw the slight ripple of her throat as she swallowed. “I think that deep down inside of your little black heart, there’s an infinitesimal, tiny little part of you that wanted me to kiss you.” Willa turned her head. She was so close that they nearly bumped noses. “A nd what if you’re correct? What if I did want you to kiss me?” Her voice was low, sounding like more of a confession than a curiosity.
He smiled and brought his mouth to her ear—a whisper away. “Then I have even more of an advantage over you than I thought.”
She lurched off his lap and tucked herself into the opposite corner of the She lurched off his lap and tucked herself into the opposite corner of the carriage again. “I should have stolen one of your horses to follow you.”
“Is that an admission regarding the kiss, then?”
She reached down and threw her shoe at him.
It hit his chest and he caught it as it fell, laughing. “It’ll be our little secret, Willa.
I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Might I remind you that you are the one who kissed me just now, Mr. Laurie?” He waved her shoe, then lowered it to the floor of the carriage and sent it sliding toward her. “A momentary lapse. Won’t happen again.”
“Hmph.” Willa put her shoe back on and crossed her arms. “See that it doesn’t.” Italy and the memory of that kiss—of everything he now knew it meant—echoed between them.
She peeked behind the blinds. “We’re traveling through the countryside. The meeting’s not in London?”
A lex smiled. “Hence the carriage.”
She didn’t respond but continued staring out the window, and A lex turned his head slightly to once again pretend he was staring out his window. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, and it seemed as if the entire world had suddenly become a most glorious, wondrous place and he had been named king.
Willa Stratton had kissed him in Italy not because of strategy, but because she desired him. The truth had been present tonight when he came too close in the study, at the slight stutter of her breath and the quick aversion of her gaze. It was true that she had hidden it for a long time and had hidden it well.
A nd it was a shame that he wasn’t a nicer man, for a nicer man would surely have allowed such things to remain in the past. But A lex decided the role of the scoundrel suited him just fine; her secret was his now, and he intended to never let her forget it.
Chapter 11
It was a small cottage in the country, surrounded by trees in all directions. As they walked toward the front door, Willa breathed in the faint scents of foxglove and lavender, roses and honeysuckle. She sneezed.
Oh, no. No matter—she would breathe through her mouth. She must find a way to convince Woolstone to give her the dye instead.
“God bless you,” A lex said, then knocked on the door.
A man whose head came higher than the doorway stood on the opposite side.
He stooped to see them, and when he did his eyes narrowed at her. “Who is she?” he asked A lex.
“Mr. Woolstone, may I present Miss Willa Stratton? She is the daughter of the A merican dye maker who is also interested in your dye.” Woolstone, not a servant? True, he had the black hair and pale eyes of the Earl of Uxbridge and Lady Marianna, but he was much thicker, much larger. A s he turned and led them into the cottage without saying anything else, she saw that he easily topped A lex by at least six inches. The man was a giant!
How was she to charm a giant who didn’t even acknowledge her presence bey
ond a “ho-hum”?
Willa glanced around the inner room of the cottage—for it was a true cottage, very small and simple, with one main room and only two doors leading elsewhere. A bedchamber, perhaps? A kitchen?
But worse—much, much worse than the fact that the giant didn’t seem to like females—was the fact that nearly every surface of the room was covered with plants. Flowers, ferns, potted trees, small bushes, ivies. They crept along the floor so that Willa and A lex had to hop from open space to open space to avoid crushing them underfoot; they climbed up to the furniture, entwining their leaves and branches to create a domestic forest; they stood on thrones and pedestals from one corner to the next: on chairs, on tables, on a small ladder and a very old, very worn gardener’s workbench.
She was in hell. God had tired of all her lies and manipulations and now he was doling out his judgment.
“A hhhhhhhh-CHOO!”
A pparently breathing through one’s mouth didn’t help.
Both Woolstone and A lex whirled toward her, the first wearing a scowl and the second an expression of surprise. It had been an especially loud sneeze.
“A re you all right?” A lex asked. Woolstone had already turned around and continued stomping his way—careful of his precious plants, of course—to a continued stomping his way—careful of his precious plants, of course—to a haphazard group of chairs.
Willa nodded, then sighed as he, too, turned around.
She hated sneezing. She hated sneezing worse than she hated snakes, or spiders, or playing the pianoforte, or even—yes—even more than she hated blood pudding. She hated the tickling feeling that started at the top of one’s nose that made one aware that the sneeze was impending. She hated the inevitability of it, and that no matter how hard she tried not to sneeze, it was doomed to happen.
She hated the awful squealing sound she made when she sneezed, the occasions when she didn’t have a kerchief to put over her nose before it actually happened—
and it seemed she always sneezed when there wasn’t a kerchief nearby, such as now.
