Lord of Desire (5 page)

"Well, I suppose I cannot let you travel such a distance by yourself." His dark eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Perhaps then it is fortunate that I have already made the arrangements."

Alysson stared at her uncle at length. As the truth slowly dawned on her, her lips curved into a smile. "You,
mon
oncle,
are a complete fraud. You meant to go all along."

Honoré chuckled, looking pleased with
himself
. "Do not
tell Gervase, I beg you. He will not be happy that I am abetting this flaw in your character."

"No, of course not.
He can blame me for corrupting you." Preferring not to dwell on Gervase's concern, she let her eager thoughts race ahead to the morrow. "We should get an early start in the morning, if you can bear it."

"I have already promised I would, have I not?"

"Yes," Alysson said, "but I wasn't sure you meant it."

"Only for you, my dear, would I drag myself out of bed at an obscene hour to journey into the wilderness."

"It isn't the wilderness, Uncle. The Plain of Algiers is not so different from the farmland in France."

"So you say." Honoré again scowled at her from beneath his heavy brows. "Just do not expect me to chase tigers or elephants or some such thing, the way your Uncle Oliver does."

Honoré's gruffness never fooled her; she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I won't, I promise."

"I should never spoil you the way I do."

Not denying the charge, Alysson flashed him a conspiratorial smile. She might have been neglected as a child by her parents, but she'd been spoiled from birth by her army of servants, and later, after her parents' deaths, indulged by her uncles, especially Honoré. He had become the father she'd lost, and she loved him dearly. "You do spoil me most dreadfully, best of my uncles—and you enjoy every minute of it."

He chuckled fondly and patted her hand. "His Highness seemed much taken with you this evening," Honoré
observed,
a satisfied expression on his face.

Diplomatically Alysson refrained from answering as she recalled the past half hour. Not only had His Royal Highness overlooked the stigma of her mundane birth and the unelevated circles in which she'd been raised, but he had sought her out to discover her opinion of Algeria, and engaged her in conversation for
a
Ml ten minutes.

Alysson was well aware of the honor he'd paid her. He was the son of the king of France, the Governor-General of Algeria, while she was a mere bourgeois
Anglaise.
Her father had been a common merchant—but one clever and lucky enough to make a fortune serving with the East India
Company.
That
no doubt was her prime attraction to the prince; he wanted her to invest some of her great wealth here in Algeria.

Skeptical amusement played about Alysson's mouth as she glanced over her shoulder at the tall double doors in the middle of the long room. They were open to the night, but covered with gauzy curtains that trapped in the heat. "I think I will take a tarn about the courtyard where it is cooler. Will you come?"

"Not now, my dear. I believe I shall seek out the fellow who was telling us about his vineyards."

"If Gervase inquires, tell him I shall return in a moment."

Honoré allowed her to go, but with an admonition not to forget she was the guest of honor and remain away too long. Giving her champagne glass to a passing waiter, Alysson lifted the hem of her full-skirted evening gown, an airy, silken confection of white mousseline de soie, and made her way out onto the narrow terrace.

Like the house she and her uncle had let for the duration of their stay in Algiers, Gervase's home was built around a central courtyard. Before her, the long flight of stone steps led downward to a profusion of oleanders and palms and lotus trees that were occasionally illuminated by torches set at intervals. For an instant, when one of the shadows stirred, Alysson thought someone might be down there in the garden—one of the guests, perhaps. But when she caught no other sign of movement, she dismissed the idea.

The evening was warm, even though summer had long ended, for Algiers enjoyed a Mediterranean climate. After the heat of the great chamber, the soft breeze was cool on her bare shoulders, the air redolent of lemon blossoms and jasmine and that inexplicable mystery that hung in the African night. Alysson closed her eyes, drinking in the sensations: the smells of the East, the whisper of fountains, the rustle of tall date palms.

How different and yet how similar to the India where she had been raised.
And how different it would be to experience a strange new land in the company of Uncle Honoré, rather than her Uncle Oliver.

Older than Oliver by twenty years, for one thing, Honoré
was a staid, middle-class Frenchman who preferred the comforts of home and hearth to wandering the globe. Her British Uncle Oliver, on the other hand, was a world traveler with a passion for adventure, a bachelor who fancied himself a great explorer.

She had seen a good deal of the world with her Uncle Oliver during the past three years. At seventeen, when her schooling had finally ended, Alysson had persuaded Oliver to let her accompany him on his journeys. With him she had visited czars in Russia, hunted tigers in India, penetrated the fascinating deserts of Arabia. He treated her more as a son than a daughter, but she never complained; they were kindred spirits, fellow adventurers at heart. She liked wild places and exotic new cultures as much as he did.

Places like Algeria. Excitement bubbled inside her like champagne at the thought of the morrow. Tomorrow, with Uncle Honoré, she would set out on a new adventure.

A soft footfall behind her interrupted her reverie. Alysson turned to find Gervase de Bourmont regarding her with a quizzical frown.

"Your uncle said I could find you here, my love," he said in French.

Alysson smiled in welcome. "I grew overly warm inside and stepped out to enjoy the breeze."

"I understand you have persuaded Honoré to undertake an expedition into the interior.'' The disapproval in his tone was unmistakable.

Alysson didn't respond to his comment, not wanting to spoil the pleasurable moment with a dispute. Turning, she gazed down at the garden below. "Your home is very beautiful, Gervase."

He came to stand beside her, his expression grim. "It will be your home as well if we are married. Alysson," he added abruptly, not giving her a chance to reply, "I do not want you to attempt this trip. It is bad enough that you must accompany your uncle to visit his holdings without dragging him all over the province."

"Gervase, do you know how you sound? You are already acting the demanding husband."

"I think I have the right to question your actions."

"To question, perhaps, but not to forbid," she said, trying to keep her tone light. She couldn't be offended by his proprietary attitude. Gervase felt responsible for her, she knew, but his concern stemmed from a desire to protect her, rather than any need to keep her under his thumb.

"I won't forbid you outright,
coquine,
but surely you must see this is foolhardy."

He spoke with the familiarity of long acquaintance, calling her "minx" as he'd done since she was a mere girl. Indeed, they had known each for years, ever since the first summer she'd spent in France with her Uncle Honoré. Though, to be truthful, Gervase had paid little attention to her then, when she was a headstrong hoyden of fourteen.

Alysson glanced up at him. Gervase was an exceptionally attractive man—tall, athletic, dark-haired, with a dashing mustache and blue military uniform that most women found extremely appealing. Alysson thought so, too, and yet . . . He was gallant and handsome and the dearest of friends, but just the least bit staid when it came down to it. She had hoped she would feel differently about him here, where the opportunity for daring exploits and courageous feats was far greater than in France. A colonel in the French army, Gervase had recently been posted to Algeria as head of the
Bureaux Arabes,
the French system of governing the natives.

It was Gervase who had persuaded her Uncle Honors to consider expanding his enterprises to colonial Algeria—and Honoré who had insisted that Alysson come along on the visit. Uncle Honoré very much wanted to see her safely married. He didn't approve of her traipsing all over the world with her Uncle Oliver, or exposing herself to the dirt and disease of London hospitals with her other uncle, who was a physician.

For Honor's sake she had agreed to consider seriously Gervase's marriage proposal. She desperately wanted to repay her favorite uncle for his many kindnesses to her. Over the years Honoré had given her so much, providing her a refuge from the lonely confinement of boarding school, treating her as a cherished daughter, making her feel wanted and loved.
Loved for herself, not her vast fortune.
From her first moment in England, she'd either been fawned over for her wealth or snubbed by her blue-blooded peers.

Her uncles had been her salvation. She'd taken the advice of a stranger and tried to earn their attention and affection. Alysson counted herself immensely fortunate to have managed it, to have found a place in her uncles' hearts. With them she felt a sense of belonging, of family, a feeling of shared hopes and dreams and destinies. Especially with Ho- nor£.

And now he was requesting something in return—for her to consider marriage to a man she had long admired and respected. It was the only thing Uncle Honoré had ever asked of her.

And she did truly care for Gervase.

That he counted on her acceptance of his suit, however, was wishful thinking on his part. More than once she'd told Gervase that she wasn't ready for marriage. She was scarcely twenty, after all. But he was so certain he could change her mind.

Alysson wished she could be as certain. She
wanted
to feel more for Gervase than deep friendship. She
wanted
to fell in love with him. Yet it would be cruel to give him false hope. She had promised her uncle, though, not to refuse Gervase's proposal outright. Still, she would be glad to begin the journey tomorrow and thus put some distance between them. Perhaps the separation would give her the opportunity to examine her feelings and come to a definite conclusion about her future with Gervase.

Gervase was apparently thinking about her departure as well, for he shook his head in protest. "I would accompany you if I could, Alysson, but duty compels me to remain here. I don't care to think about what could happen to you without me to protect you."