Six days after cutting her feet, Alexandra sat propped up against a couple of pillows, leafing through a book of poems by Robert Burns. She couldn’t concentrate on any of the poems however—she was simply too anxious about seeing Michael to be able to focus her mind on anything else. It was already well past ten, she noted as she looked over at the clock for the hundredth time. What on earth was taking him so long? He was never this late in coming to check on her.
She was just about to call for Ryan to come and sit with her for a while when a gentle knock at the door made her stomach flutter.
Each day, her feelings toward Michael increased tenfold. Her heart pounded in her chest whenever he touched her in the slightest way. It terrified her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to ignore her growing feelings toward him. The worst of it was that he clearly didn’t seem to feel the same way. He never gave her more than a peck on the cheek—no doubt he probably regretted the code of honor that presented him with little choice but to marry her. But she had to give him credit for making the most of a situation that he obviously found to be quite undesirable. Not once had he complained about his predicament. Instead, he treated her like a true lady. He brought her flowers, listened to her with interest and treated her with respect. It was clear that he wanted to make her happy.
And she was happy—terrified but happy.
“Come in!” she called out. The door eased open, giving way to Michael’s sturdy frame. Alexandra’s eyes widened. She couldn’t help it. He was just so drop-dead gorgeous that it almost sent her head spinning like a fair ground carrousel.
“Good morning,” he said as he came toward her and dropped into the chair beside her bed. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” she told him, feigning indifference. She hoped her voice hadn’t betrayed her. “In fact, I was quite busy with Burns.”
“I see . . . well . . . er . . . Where is the tea?” he suddenly asked, looking about for the tray.
“I’m sure Mrs. Bell will bring it in shortly. Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous,” he admitted. “I missed breakfast this morning in order to run an errand of some importance.”
“Really?” her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Something to do with William? Did he send word by any chance?”
“No, no, it’s nothing regarding him. We’ll see him soon enough.” Alexandra stared at him in bewilderment. “Bonaparte’s ball . . . remember?”
“Good grief!” Alexandra exclaimed, slamming her book shut and throwing back her covers. “I’d completely forgotten. I have to decide what to wear, how to do my hair, I—”
“Easy does it,” Michael cautioned her as he put a restraining hand on her arm and eased her back down onto the bed. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
The door opened again and Mrs. Bell trundled in with a tray piled high with a teapot, cups, sandwiches, and freshly baked cookies. “How are you doing, Dearie?” she asked, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Ready to dance the night away this evening?”
“Apparently, everyone seems to have remembered the ball except for me,” Alexandra moaned.
“Just goes to show what a hoyden you really are,” Michael grinned, dodging the punch that Alexandra aimed at his shoulder.
“Now, now,” Mrs. Bell scolded in a lighthearted voice. “There’ll be none of that. His lordship has been very kind to you of late, so you’d best be on your best behavior if you don’t want a scolding, my lady.”
Alexandra rolled her eyes while Michael chuckled. She was well aware that he’d been giving Mrs. Bell flowers too in the course of the past week and could see that he was clearly more than just a little delighted to see his efforts pay off.
“And don’t you worry about what to wear either. I’ll be here to assist you this evening.” A dreamy look filled the older woman’s eyes. “You’ll be the belle of the ball, I assure you.” With a lazy sigh followed by a girlish giggle, she then hurried from the room.
“Well, she certainly likes you,” Alexandra remarked as she leaned over to pour the tea.
“And what reason would she have not to? I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it, you know.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously.
Alexandra ignored this last comment and offered him a sandwich that he greedily accepted. He took a bite and a combination of relief and immense satisfaction flooded his face.
What is it about men and food?
“So, tell me about your sisters,” she said. “How old are they?”
“Well, Claire’s two years older than me, so that would make her thirty-two. Chloe’s twenty-seven, Charlotte’s twenty-three, and the twins—Caroline and Cass—are eighteen.” He picked up another sandwich and wasted no time in sinking his teeth into it.
“So then they must be just about ready to enjoy a busy season—the twins I mean.”
“They were certainly looking forward to it when I left London. In fact, I must admit I was quite relieved to be given this assignment.” He sent her a wayward smile. “It gave me the excuse I needed to escape.”
“Escape?” She looked confused. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”
“You’ve no idea,” he shuddered. “I remember Charlotte’s coming-out ball as if it were only yesterday. Before the season had even begun, the house was overrun by dressmakers, cobblers, and milliners. The parlor was transformed into a fitting room. It was impossible to find the furniture for all the fabric that was forever lying about. And then, once the season did begin, the house was suddenly infested by hoards of eager young men vying for Charlotte’s hand in marriage. Not a surface remained without a bouquet of flowers upon it—a myriad of scents all clamoring for attention.”
“It doesn’t sound like much fun at all,” Alexandra said. “Thankfully, it’s not something I had to endure. Besides, it never really caught my interest—all the fuss and being put on constant display. My aunt was very pushy about the whole idea for a while, but that was years ago. Still, I suppose if you truly are in the market for a wife or a husband, then there’s not much choice but to endure the whole menagerie.”
“Most young ladies enjoy it tremendously, Alex. You’re quite the exception, trust me. The trouble is when it comes to Cass and Caroline . . . well, they’re very different from each other, even though they’re twins. They’re not identical, even their personalities are at opposite poles.” It looked to Alexandra as if Michael was mulling something over in his head. He suddenly looked at her with great intensity. “I know Caroline will have no trouble—she’s so refined and delicate. I worry about Cass though.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with her?” Alexandra blurted out before she could stop herself. Her hand came up to cover her mouth just as her eyes grew big with shock at her own words. “I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
Michael grinned and shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with her as such, Alex, but the girl can’t even go for a walk in the park without getting grass stains on her dress or mud on her slippers. Her hairpins are forever falling out. She’s a terrible mess and no matter how hard we all try, we just don’t seem to be able to do anything about it.”
Alexandra bit back a smile. “And you’re worried she’ll not attract as many gentlemen as Caroline, and that she’ll be crushed. Is that it?”
“In a nutshell.” He nodded with obvious relief. He’d known she’d understand. After all, she and Cassandra were quite similar in some ways.
“I don’t think you ought to overly concern yourself. I have a feeling your sister Cass has spirit, and if I’m not terribly wrong, then any man worth having is more interested in a spirited wife than a demure one.” She lifted her big blue eyes to stare directly at him from behind her thick, dark lashes. “Isn’t that correct, Michael?”
There was so much meaning in that one question that Michael felt sure he could write a whole book on it. Was she really asking him point blank if, given the choice, he would pick her over a more dispassionate woman? Well of course he would. In fact, he already had, but she didn’t know that yet. She thought he was marrying her for the sake of honor. “Yes,” he heard himself say. “Yes, you are absolutely right.”
She sank back against her pillows with a small sigh of what he assumed to be relief. “I’m glad to hear it,” she muttered. “In fact, I’m quite certain Cass will find a husband who will make her very happy.”
“You’re probably right,” Michael agreed as he cleared his throat. The tension eased a bit and he suddenly remembered why he’d been later today than all the other days. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box.
“I almost forgot. This is for you.” He placed the box in Alexandra’s hand. She stared down at it for a long moment as if unsure of what to do with it.
“Go ahead,” Michael urged her. “Open it.”
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered after flipping back the lid. “They’re beautiful. Oh, it’s too much. You really didn’t have to.”
“No? Very well then.” He shrugged as he reached for the box. “I’ll just have to return it then.”
“Absolutely not, you fiend!” She grinned, snatching the box away from him and keeping it out of his reach. Once again she looked inside at the filigree pendant and matching earrings, each with a bold sapphire in its center.
“I thought you might like to wear them this evening,” he told her. “They’ll bring out the color of your eyes.” Michael barely refrained from rolling his eyes—at himself. When had he ever churned out such romantic drivel before? She’d turned him from a carefree womanizer into a lovesick puppy in no time at all.
“Thank you,” she said on a whisper of breath. “I’ll cherish them forever.”
And then she reached for him, her hand curling about his neck and pulling him ever so gently toward her.
Michael felt his heart stop. Or was it beating so fast that he could no longer feel it? He wasn’t sure. Either way, he was quite certain that he was about to expire from anticipation. She was about to kiss him and as far as he could tell, she wasn’t aiming for his cheek. No, this would be a proper kiss—the first of its kind since they’d been caught by Ryan. He sucked in a breath at the very moment that her lips touched his.
It was as if an explosion of energy burst through him at that very point of contact.
Alexandra began to pull away, but Michael wasn’t about to end their intimate encounter, this gift that she’d bestowed upon him, so swiftly. With lightening speed his arms were about her, pressing her against him as he crushed her lips with his own.
She stiffened, no doubt uncertain, but desire must have finally won her over. At any rate, she clung to him with an almost desperate hunger, as if she planned to gobble him up alive. It thrilled him to no end, filling him with a feverish need of his own. He brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue, begging for entry, and was quickly rewarded with her surrender.