The Secrets of Mia Danvers (17 page)

He was to be betrothed. He’d mentioned her earlier, that she had already been selected for him. It certainly explained the familiar scent she smelled on him whenever he returned from social engagements. No doubt he picked up the cloying scent when he danced with the girl.

Soon he would belong to someone else. No, she should not suppose that at the moment he belonged to her, which she knew was not true. Perhaps she should not have answered his proposal so hastily.

***

Alex came home later than he’d intended from the ball. He and Juliet had danced twice, but after their time on the balcony, the conversation had been limited. It wasn’t her fault. She had been taught perfectly the way a lady and gentleman should converse and was comfortable starting conversations. And he’d not played by those rules, had tried to push her.

Could he tolerate a lifetime of that? Of not having much interest in what your wife had to say? Or not caring to share much with her? And worse, knowing that your wife had actual opinions, but refused to share them with you because it would appear inappropriate? Perhaps it would come in time. Though he doubted that.

She had been selected for all the right reasons; at least all the reasons that made sense to Society. She was pretty enough, and she knew every rule of propriety, agreed with everything he said and had been raised to know precisely how to run a household. She was the perfect choice to make his wife. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if his damned brother hadn’t died and Alex hadn’t become the Duke, what choice he would have made.

Clearly it was thoughts like those that prevented him from progressing the courtship. He hadn’t asked her to go riding. Hadn’t asked her for a picnic or to go to the new exhibit at the museum. Since he’d met Mia, he hadn’t seen Juliet outside of the regular evening functions they both attended, a ball or two and a handful of soirees. More than likely, she and her parents were getting frustrated and impatient that he hadn’t yet made things official and asked for her hand.

He had to make his final decision soon. Hell, he knew what the right decision was, he merely needed to act upon it. Go and visit her father and ask for her hand, then take her riding and make it official with the lady herself. But the thought of doing either made him feel rebellious, like a stubborn lad doing everything in his power to defy his parents.

Alex made his way into his study and found the candle on his desk still burning, though it had worn down to almost nothing but a wick. He stepped over to douse the flame, then caught sight of the sleeping form snuggled up on his sofa.

Mia.

She must have fallen asleep in here waiting for him. A stab of guilt punched through him. He should have been here. No, he reminded himself, his duty was to attend Societal functions as the Duke of Carrington. His duty was to secure a wife and Mia would not be his duchess.

Still, Mia needed his protection.

“Do you want me to carry Miss Danvers to her room, Your Grace?” a voice asked from behind him. It was the footman he’d assigned to watch Mia when he was out. “She insisted on waiting in here for you.”

“Tobin, thank you, but no. I’ll attend to her.”

The man nodded and left the study.

Alex had managed to keep her safe thus far, but he was nearly keeping her prisoner. Since he hadn’t wanted her to spend time outside else risk being put into danger, she hadn’t sculpted since arriving at Danbridge Hall. Perhaps he should consider creating a space for her in the garden to work.

He didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t very well leave her down here to sleep and risk falling asleep himself. What if his mother found them there together? Or what if Drew picked tonight to come home, and continued to antagonize her? No, Alex would have to wake her and bring her to her room. At least there she was next to him, he’d be able to hear her scream should she be in any danger.

He would remind her to lock the bedchamber door. It might not protect her from a truly determined killer, but at least it would protect her from him. As it was, he was beginning to wonder if he should be trusted alone with her at all as his every thought had turned carnal. In his mind he peeled away her clothes and longed to take his sweet time worshiping her body. He felt himself grow hard with just the thought. He needed to get her into her room and quickly, before he did something they both regretted in the morning.

It did not escape him that it wasn’t long ago that he held Juliet against him while they’d waltzed and he’d felt nothing for her. That he’d imagined pulling her into the darkness and seducing her and still nothing. Yet all he’d needed to do was walk into a room with Mia and already he had to fight the urge to touch her.

Alex went over to where she slept and knelt beside the sofa. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she stirred.

“Mia,” he said gently.

“Hmmm,” she moaned.

“Mia, you need to wake up.”

She jerked, then opened her eyes. “Alex?”

“I’m right here. You fell asleep downstairs, in my study.” He waited for her to orient herself. She stretched a little and then yawned, covering the movement with the back of her hand. “I can take you to your room.”

“Did you dance with her?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Your intended.” She sat up, smoothed her hand over her hair. “You smell like her when you return home from the balls. It’s lilac, I believe.”

He sniffed at his jacket but found no sign of lilac or any other flowers. “I did dance with her,” he said. Suddenly he felt awkward, as if he needed to explain. He opened his mouth to say something, give her a reason or excuse, but he said nothing. The truth was he didn’t owe Mia an explanation. She was not his wife, nor his betrothed nor even his mistress.

Despite the fact that he desperately wanted her to be one of those so that he had an excuse to get her in his bed and keep her there. He’d thought of little else at night when he went to sleep other than being able to touch Mia the way he longed to do.

This line of thinking did little to alleviate the erection already straining against his trousers. He shifted his stance, then he swore.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, making him realize he’d sworn out loud.

“Nothing. I’m merely tired.” It was quiet for several moments. “How did you know?” he asked.

“I told you, I can smell her perfume.”

“No, not that.”

“Oh, that she was your intended,” she provided. “I didn’t actually. I knew you danced with women, of course you would. And there was a familiar scent. But mostly I knew because of your mother.”

“You spoke with my mother?”

She shrugged, then rounded her shoulders back. “She spoke to me is a more precise way to put things.”

“I apologize for whatever she said.” He shook his head.

She waved off his apology. “Is it not true?”

“About Juliet? She is not my intended. Not yet. Our families had a mutual agreement that was to be between Juliet and my late brother. But now it seems as if that duty has fallen to me.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. Why was this so dammed difficult? “I meant that I was sorry for whatever my mother said about you. She can be cruel.”

“Yes, she can. But it is not your apology to make.” She came to her feet.

“You’re a guest in this house,” he said.

“Not according to her.” She shook her head and wiped at the air as if trying to ward off the offensive memories. “I don’t think any good can come of discussing it.”

“Sit with me, Mia, for a little while,” he said. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to her, but he knew he wanted something else in her mind when she went to sleep that night other than his mother’s cruelty.

“Tell me about your Juliet,” she said as she returned to the settee. She seemed unmoved by her question as if the thought of him having a fiancée meant nothing to her. He frowned.

“She’s very pretty and from a good family,” he said.

“That’s rather nondescript, wouldn’t you agree?” Mia asked.

The truth was he didn’t really know what to tell her and frankly he didn’t even want to be having this discussion. “She’s very sweet. And she plays the piano. She is polite and . . .” And what? Boring? No, because he doubted very much that that was true, only that she’d been taught to be boring. Or perhaps he brought it out in her.

“I don’t really want to discuss this,” he said.

“Very well, tell me about the ball. Did you dance with anyone else?”

“You already know the answer to that question, do you not?” he asked.

She smiled. “I do.”

“It’s rather unsettling, that keen sense of smell you have. I suspect you would make a fine investigator.”

“I believe my being a woman would prevent me from such a career.” Then she laughed. “And no doubt there are those that would doubt my ability.”

“I danced five times,” he said.

“Sounds delightful.” She smiled wistfully and shook her head. “I never got to learn and I’ve always wanted to.”

As dangerous as it was to hold Mia in his arms, he wouldn’t walk away from that. She deserved so much more than a single dance in his study with no music to accompany them. For what must have been the hundredth time in the last few weeks, he cursed her family for sacrificing her the way they had. For stealing from her the life she should have had. He was strong enough to keep things between them chaste. He could control his urges.

“Stand up,” he said. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I think I can manage one dance lesson, though I can’t promise I’ll be the best of teachers.”

She smiled broadly, her face beamed with joy. “Truly?”

“Your choice,” he said. “I don’t suppose we could do the quadrille with merely the two of us.”

“I want to learn the waltz, if I could,” she said.

Waltzing would mean holding her in his arms. Close in his arms. “I could teach you the waltz,” he heard himself say.

She looked downward, her head hanging. “I’m afraid I’m not wearing shoes, will that be a problem?”

“No, I won’t step on your toes.” He looked down and caught sight of her bare toes peeking out from beneath her dress. The intimacy of her standing barefooted in his study slammed into him, but he ignored it. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. “You put your hand here and then I place mine here and then here our hands are joined.” He set them in the correct position. Her hand was cradled within his. Unlike his earlier dances where both he and his partners wore gloves, his and Mia’s skin touched. Her bare fingers wrapped around his hand, reminding him of how much he felt the need to protect this woman.

It was only because of her lot in life that he felt so drawn to do that, he tried to tell himself. Clearly he desired her, but that would fade as time progressed and the danger around her disappeared. Eventually she wouldn’t have such an effect on him. But right now she had no one else in the world willing to fight for her, keep her safe. And for whatever reason, that protectiveness stirred his desire.

“The waltz count is basically a three-step, one two three, one two three—in that rhythm,” he explained. “So count with me, one two three, one two three.” She counted with him and he began moving. “Keep counting and follow my lead. I step forward, you step backward and so forth. One two three,” he said with her.

Several minutes later they were waltzing across his study floor to the beat of Mia’s soft counting. He twirled her and danced her in that small space until he realized he, too, was smiling. Then a second realization struck him, that in this moment, he was having a more enjoyable time dancing with her to no music than he had in any ballroom of his remembrance.

Despite the fact that all of the other women he’d danced with had worn the finest of gowns with matching dance slippers and jewels. Despite the fact that their refined manners dictated only the most proper of discussions. Despite the fact that he should want any one of those other women. And yet this woman with her plain—no ugly—dress, and bare feet was the one he’d prefer to spend time with. That went beyond mere desire.

Suddenly he stopped. His movements jerked her to a halt and her counting ended abruptly with a one-two. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, you did everything right. You’re a very fast study,” he said. He dropped his hands away from her and took several steps away, creating as much distance between their two bodies as she could manage.

“Perhaps we can try it to music sometime,” she said.

He wanted to agree. But he said nothing.

“Alex, what’s the matter?”

He thought about ignoring her question or lying to her, but tonight he wasn’t in the mood for facades. He wanted her to know. Wanted her to know how damned hard it was for him every day to keep his hands off.

“I find it difficult to dance with you,” he said.

She bit down on her lip. “I’m not refined, I know that.” She shook her head apologetically. “We don’t have to dance. I merely wanted to know how. I . . . thank you for teaching me.”

He closed their distance, grabbed her and pulled her close to him. “It has nothing to do with being refined. I find it so damned hard to have you this close to me and not being able to do what I want to do.”

She shook her head. “Then do it, Alex, kiss me. Touch me.”

He slammed his mouth down on hers demanding a reaction, pouring all of his passion into that kiss. He told himself one would be enough, just a taste would slake his desire until the next time he had to touch her. But he knew it was a lie. With Mia, it seemed that one kiss was never enough. Hell, one hundred kisses wouldn’t be enough. One hundred years of kissing her wouldn’t cure this irrational need he had for her.

He tore his mouth away. “Do you know how much I want you? All the time? Damnation, Mia, it’s all I think about.”

“Then why do you fight it, Alex? I want you, too, I think about it as well,” she said.

He loved her boldness. The brazenness of her voicing her own desire was improper and unbecoming of a lady of good breeding, but all it did was intensify his want of her. “If you could see me, you’d know,” he said. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you’d be able to see the desire in my face. And here.” He took hold of her hand and pressed it to his erection. “Do you feel how much I want you?”