A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (53 page)

“
Yes, my lord, quite.”
Where could she turn the conversation next? They couldn’t very well
discuss the weather for more than a minute or so. Something else
would have to be said, but Grace was at a loss for anything
congenial.

What did polite company speak of? Her
father had kept her far too sheltered to be prepared for such an
encounter. Of course, he had never intended for her to have
relations of any sort with eligible gentlemen, other than her
betrothed. She was to go straight from where he kept her under lock
and key to her new husband’s home, where she would discuss only
those subjects her husband wished to discuss. Or, perhaps, nothing
at all, should he desire her silence.

She’d be lucky, indeed, if Lord
Alexander wasn’t soon expressing frustration over her lack of
conversational skill, but he seemed more amused, if anything. A
devilish gleam passed over his eyes. “Have you enjoyed yourself
with Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington? They live at New Hill
Cottage, if memory serves.”

Well, at least he asked her another
question. For the moment, she could simply answer him and not
scrounge around in her feeble mind for something appropriate. But
how much should she tell him? She’d do best to keep personal
details to a minimum, in the event word ever traveled back to
London. The last thing she needed was for Father to hear of her
location. She’d defied him and run from him, and he’d likely come
after her and force her to return with him, whether the Kensingtons
condoned her behavior or not. However much she wished to be free of
his grasp, she must never forget how much control he could still
exert over her life, should he find her.

Grace also didn’t want to allow
anything to slip to him as to the true purpose of her
visit.

She proceeded with caution. “Yes, my
aunt and uncle live at New Hill. They have been quite amenable to
all of my needs, my lord, thank you for asking. Our visit so far
has been quite…pleasant.” She looked up at him with what she
dreaded to be an uncouth, foolish half-smile. Should she say
anything else? And good gracious, how much more stuffy and stilted
could her conversation be?

Her internal debate proved rather
foolhardy, as Grace stumbled over her own feet. Before she could
fall, Lord Alexander caught her and set her to rights. He steadied
her in his arms and leaned her gently against his sturdy frame for
a moment, until she could stand on her own.

His strong arms braced her, and she
took in a long breath. Probably not the brightest move, since his
scent poured over her—warmth and cleanliness, and the barest hint
of the woods.

She rested in the cocoon of his arms
for longer than she ought to have done, but he felt too good to
leave. The length of their bodies melded together perfectly—so
perfectly it seemed entirely natural to stay in this position. How
could she be so comfortable, feel so safe, being held by this man
she barely knew?

“
Easy, Lady Grace. Are you
all right? Perhaps we should rest for a moment.”

His concern seemed genuine. Grace
wanted to alleviate his worries. It wouldn’t do to have him
thinking of her any more than absolutely necessary, for any
reason.

She separated herself from his grasp
and straightened her gown. “Oh, how terribly clumsy of me. I am
very sorry, my lord. I assure you, I am quite well. There is no
need to rest.”

She flushed again. Blast, her cheeks
must surely match the color of her gown by now. The heat was rising
to her head, and it only intensified when she remembered how long
she had allowed herself to stay in his arms. She was behaving in a
most dreadfully improper manner.

Lord Alexander raised an eyebrow
dubiously, so Grace started walking to prove her point. “The earl’s
roses are rather lovely, are they not?”

He walked alongside
her—this time grasping her arm, where before she had held onto his.
Good Lord, even his
hand
was strong. She shivered slightly and looked away
from him.

“
There are so many colors,
and the roses are all abloom. I would love to paint them sometime.”
Drat. Why had she mentioned painting? She had wanted to avoid
telling him much about herself, and to simply fill in the
conversation where appropriate. Apparently, she was destined to
fail miserably at her seemingly simple goal.

“
You paint, ma’am? I’ve
never had talent for it myself, but my youngest sister, Charlotte,
is quite the artist.” He stopped to pluck a single pink dog rose
from its stem. It was almost the exact shade of her gown. He tucked
the flower into her hair, just above her ear. “There, that looks
just about perfect now.”

His gentle touch left her flustered.
Every nerve ending in her body was thrumming and felt alive. Grace
began to walk again, at a swifter pace this time, lest he discover
just how easily he had discomposed her.

What to talk about? She needed to find
something. Perhaps she ought to ask him about his family, since
he’d mentioned a sister. Or maybe she should ask him about the
talents he did possess, if not painting. There were any number of
directions she could turn the conversation, but all she could think
about was getting away from him—as fast as possible.

However, he stayed close behind her.
He took hold of her wrist and pulled her to a stop. His proximity
clouded her judgment—that warm, woodsy, masculine strength he
exuded made it impossible for her to form a coherent thought, and
she feared she might do something wrong.

“
I apologize,” he said. “It
was highly improper of me to take such liberties. Please forgive
me.” His eyes were filled with sincerity.

Of course there was nothing
to forgive. All he had done was help her to regain her feet and
place a flower in her hair, nothing more. She had overreacted.
“Please, don’t apologize, Lord Alexander. You’ve done nothing
wrong. I—I am the one who ought to apologize. I don’t know what is
wrong with me.” He could never understand her reactions, even if he
knew the whole of the truth. And letting him know
that
was an utter
impossibility.

After all the recent events of her
life, Grace couldn’t possibly deserve such attentions from a
gentleman. But how could she tell him such a thing? He couldn’t
know the turmoil going on inside her, and she couldn’t very well
let any of it out in front of him.

After a few moments, a wry grin
emerged on his lips. “Lady Grace, you recognize me from the
Brookhurst Inn yesterday, don’t you?”

He did recognize her. She nodded and
smiled, but ducked her head.

“
When I saw you on the
coach, I felt time stood still. Your eyes—they are quite
haunting.”

She turned her gaze to the orangery
nearby, scanning desperately for something to look at—anything but
him—but remained where she stood. Allowing him to see her fear
wouldn’t do, but she refused to run. Her escape from Father had
been more than enough running in her life. She would not grant this
man so much power over her.

Grace was no coward.

Her reaction to this gentleman was
confounding—he’d done nothing to cause her fear, so why was she so
afraid of him? Was it because he’d admitted to an attraction to
her, even if he did it in a circuitous manner? It would be
altogether better for them both if they had a strong distaste for
each other, but the opposite seemed to be occurring.

Still, whatever the reason for her
fear, it stood there before her like a great, hulking oak—solid and
immovable. Somehow, she needed to force it aside. What else could
she do?

~ * ~

Alex had no idea why Lady Grace had
turned from him just then, but he pressed on. “They are so
beautiful, so clear, your eyes—but they seem so sad. I dreamed of
your eyes last night.”

Devil take it. What on God’s good
earth had possessed him to tell her he’d dreamed about her? But now
his cards were all laid out before her. He couldn’t take the
sentiment back, even if he wanted to—which, surprisingly, he
didn’t. He might as well keep going. He placed a hand on her
shoulder, gentle but firm, and allowed it to rest there for a few
moments. Her breath quickened, and she looked timidly over her
shoulder at him.

She seemed so lost and fragile, yet
somehow still in rigid control of herself. He needed to break a
small piece of her control, just for a moment. He wanted to help
her—but how? So he did the only thing in his head.

He couldn’t stop himself. Alex had no
right to touch her, and as a gentleman, he absolutely should do
nothing to compromise her. But how could he resist a kiss? He
turned her so she was only a whisper away, then he stared down into
the frosty depths of her eyes. Her fear had returned. He almost
decided to stop.

Almost.

But he had to know. He needed just a
taste, just a touch, and then he could walk away. His fingertips
brushed against her cheeks and nose. She shivered but didn’t pull
away. When Alex traced along the lines of her mouth with the pad of
his thumb, her eyes locked with his.

He waited until he could wait no
longer for the fear to leave her eyes, and finally received his
reward. They softened before him and turned azure with
curiosity.

Softly, gently, he pressed his lips to
hers and tried to coax her to open. She didn’t yield, at first—but
she didn’t run screaming from him, either.

Her restraint made him burn for more.
He wanted her to feel the same desire he felt. Alex pulled her
against him and deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing between her
lips while his arms kept the heat of her body pressed against
him.

She softened finally and took a tiny,
tentative step toward him.

Thank God. He moved his hands to the
back of her head, tilting her for deeper access to the warmth of
her mouth. She let out a low moan against his lips. Her tongue
stroked ever-so-shyly against his as he stabbed, twisted, and
tangled. His intention had never been to take the kiss so far, he
was damned if he could determine how to stop how. Her soft sounds
and eager, unskilled efforts were enough to drive him to the brink
of madness.

Alex was ready to dive over that
cliff. Damn, he had to stop this—he had to move away from her. With
sincere regret and a significant amount more control than he
thought himself capable of, Alex broke off the kiss and stepped
back. Lady Grace’s rumpled hair and pink, swollen lips seemed to
beg him for more. He placed a few paces between them so he would
not be tempted to grab her and finish what he had
started.

Her eyes were like blue fire ringed
with smoke. Alex had never wanted anything more. He couldn’t quite
muster the mortification he knew he ought to feel, though. It had
felt so very right, even though he ought never to have allowed it
to happen.

By degrees, the fire fled from her
eyes and they filled again with the sorrow and fear that seemed
ever present.

He’d caused the fear, this time. This
time, he was the bastard. He’d meant to keep the kiss soft and
sweet, but instead he’d pawed at her. His passions got the better
of him.

His behavior was beyond reproach—what
a lecherous cad he was, and certainly no gentleman. After several
moments of silence, she turned and walked away from him.

“
Lady Grace.” He started
after her, and with his long legs soon caught up to her. Again, he
placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her progress.

She froze in place, neither looking at
him nor saying a word.

“
It seems I must apologize
again. I should never have allowed myself to take such liberties.
Please, may we pretend it never happened?” He waited for what
seemed an eternity before she responded in any way.

Finally, she nodded. Her silence
condemned him for the lecher he was.

Alex exhaled audibly and closed his
eyes for a moment. “Shall we continue our walk through the gardens?
Lord Rotheby’s arbors are relaxing this time of year.”

Good God, she had to say
something—anything. Her silence was slowly but surely destroying
him.

Lady Grace hesitated. “Yes, the arbors
would be fine.” She still didn’t face him, but at least she walked
alongside him, even if she watched her feet as she moved. Her
struggle to maintain that thin veneer of control was betrayed by
the firm set of her jaw and the slight tremble of her lower
lip.

He needed to lighten the mood. He
couldn’t stand to see her anguish, especially since he was the
cause of her current distress. “I mentioned my sister, Charlotte,
earlier, didn’t I?”

Lady Grace gave a slight nod of her
head, but remained mute as a church mouse.

“
I don’t believe I
mentioned I am only one of six. Our father passed away a few years
ago. Mama’s made it her personal mission to see each of us happily
married off. The sooner the better, I’m afraid. She is not overly
concerned with the advantageousness of the matches. Mama’s
ideas…well, they are quite unconventional, at least as far as the
beau monde is concerned.” Alex chortled. Mama could accomplish
anything she set her mind to, which was somewhat frightening. “That
is part of my reason for being in Somerton this summer. I’m not
prepared to face Mama’s incessant interference. She can be quite
the bear.”