“Sounds like a logical strategy,” Ryan said, offering William his support. “When do you propose we leave?”
“Well, we have two options. We can leave now and ride ahead of the army, or we can leave in a couple of days and trail behind.” William looked at each of their faces, waiting to hear their suggestions.
“I think we ought to trail behind,” Michael said. “We’re less likely to be tracked by scouts that way, and we’ll have a better chance of keeping an eye on any possible changes in Bonaparte’s plan that may occur along the way.”
William nodded. “My thought exactly.”
“I think it’s an excellent plan, Will,” Alexandra told her brother, jumping to her feet and sweeping him into a hug. He wasn’t sure what startled him more—the hug or the endearment that she hadn’t used since they were children. As odd as it felt, it also felt good in a way, in spite of the fact that he couldn’t help thinking that the alcohol must have muddled her brain.
“Then it’s settled,” Ryan said, nodding toward the quickly diminishing bottle of whiskey. “Another one before bed?”
And so it went until there wasn’t a single drop left.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alexandra still felt a slight tingle from the whiskey, though she’d stopped drinking long before her brothers. They were already fast asleep, and she was back in her designated room, alone and unable to sleep. With a sigh of exasperation, she got out of bed and put on an oversized shirt that practically hung all the way to her knees. She wanted company, she decided brazenly—even if she had to wake someone up in order to get it.
No more than a minute later, she was standing outside Michael’s bedroom door reevaluating her decision. What was she thinking? She was about to sneak into Michael’s room and . . . what exactly? He was probably asleep already and wouldn’t take kindly to being woken up by a drunken woman. It was probably best if she left well enough alone and went back to bed. But no sooner had she turned away, than she heard the door open.
“Alexandra?” Michael’s voice was barely a whisper—as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was standing there. And why would he, when she could scarcely believe it herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Er—” She turned around to face him. She needed an excuse. “Sleepwalking?”
He stared back at her, looking anything but impressed with her answer. “Sleepwalking?” he repeated. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to believe that do you?”
She had to admit that it didn’t sound nearly as plausible as it had done inside her head. “Very well then. I was bored.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“And what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Alex,” he said, following her name with a heavy sigh of exasperation. “You’ve been standing outside my door for the past five minutes. I assumed you might knock at some point, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen, so I decided to come out here myself and see what on earth you might be up to this time.”
She stared back at him blankly.
“On your last midnight walk, you cut your feet, if you’ll recall. I thought it prudent to rescue you from harming yourself further.”
She considered that for a moment, and then remembered what he’d said a short while earlier. Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know how long I’ve been standing here?” It hadn’t felt like five minutes, but perhaps she was wrong about that.
“I could see your feet beneath the door, Alex.”
Oh.
He watched her for a moment, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately trying to make her feel as uncomfortable as she now did. “You’re not very sharp when you’ve been drinking, are you?” He then said crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe in a manner that made Alexandra’s stomach tie itself into a giant knot. He really was entirely too handsome for words.
“Forget I came,” she said, her mind already on her immediate escape back to her own bedroom.
He smiled at her then, as if he were the keeper of a very juicy piece of gossip. “You know I can’t do that,” he murmured.
Alexandra stiffened. “You can’t?” She wasn’t even sure if she’d said anything, her senses were so numb to anything else but his presence—which suddenly seemed to be much too close for comfort if the effect he was having on her was any indication. Her mouth had gone dry, her skin tingled in the most unexpected places and a slow heat had begun creeping over her.
He shook his head slowly. “Come,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. “There’s really little sense in standing around out here.”
She read his intent in his eyes, and her breath caught. This wasn’t why she’d come. Or was it? She no longer knew, but whatever the reason, she was powerless to turn away, so instead, she did as he suggested, sweeping past him on her bare feet until she stood in the small room that was his. When she turned around, she couldn’t help but gasp, for he was looking back at her, his eyes blazing with intensity, and then he shut the door.
Michael was beginning to find it very difficult to keep his composure. And who could blame him? After all, Alexandra was sitting before him in his bedroom (on his bed of all places), dressed in nothing but a white shirt that was putting an alarmingly large amount of her legs on display. He felt his blood stir as it coursed through his veins. His stomach tightened while flames flew down his back, gripping his chest and settling within him a smoldering mass of desire. He could not move. Hell, he could barely breathe. Conflicting thoughts assaulted his mind. He wanted to grab her, toss her back against the bed and bring to life all the fantasies he’d been having for the past couple of weeks. But what would she think of him? He’d meant to send her back to her room, to tell her to get some rest, and instead he’d done the complete opposite, and with her brothers sleeping a very short distance away no less. He had to be mad. Besides, he’d promised her a proper wedding night, and instead he was letting his carnal instincts overrule his common sense. She wouldn’t possibly be able to respect him for such a lack of discipline—she who thrived on that very thing.
Discipline.
He looked at her, sitting there with her ankles crossed as her legs swung back and forth. He understood that she must be nervous. He also understood that she couldn’t possibly know the effect her movements were having on him. Lord, give me strength.
Crossing the room, he sank to his knees before her, taking her feet in his hands to still them. He gazed up at her, knowing all too well that his need for her must be blatantly clear in his eyes. And as he held her gaze, he watched in amazement as she began to transform. Her lips parted ever so slightly, her eyelids grew heavy, and when he ran the pad of his thumb along her instep, she sighed with pleasure. He could see the desire as it grew in strength behind her eyes. It almost seemed to leap across the space between them and sink beneath his skin, igniting embers of desire so searing that they seemed to brand his very soul. The heat coiled and swelled within him until he felt himself consumed. “Alex.” Her name was but a breath upon his lips. “I’ve tried to restrain myself,” he muttered, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the palm of his hand. “God help me, I’ve tried. But, Alex, this need I have for you . . . it’s like a beast, raging to be set free. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it back.”
“Then stop trying and set it loose,” she said, her voice was no more than a murmur.
His heart thumped erratically in his chest. “But your wedding night?”
“If you recall, I wanted to give myself to you before there was any talk of marriage. I think that saving my virtue for my wedding night was always more important to you than it ever was to me. Perhaps if I were to marry someone else, I might be able to see the reasoning behind it.” Her eyes met his in a dead on stare. “Who knows how this mission of ours will turn out? One thing I’m certain of, however, is this—I don’t want to die a virgin.”
Michael grinned, allowing for some of the tension to ease. “You’re not going to die a virgin, Alex. Hell, if I know you, you’ll live to be a hundred.”
The edges of Alexandra’s lips curled upward into a playful smile. Her voice was hushed when she spoke again. “It’s the excuse you’re looking for, Michael. Don’t put too much thought into it or it won’t work.”
As if Michael’s arousal hadn’t been hard enough to begin with, it was now as firm as steel. All thoughts of waiting as much as a second longer flew out the proverbial window the moment Alexandra had said her piece.
Firm hands slid along the length of her thighs, rumpling her shirt as they went. Alexandra sucked in a breath when they roamed over her belly, sending darts of fire straight to the very tips of her tightening n**ples. But he didn’t touch her there. His hands were everywhere except where she wanted them most. Instead, they moved steadily upward, to her shoulders.
He leaned toward her, his lips brushing gently against her neck. “Come.” His voice was a soft whisper against her ear as he took her hand in his and helped her to her feet. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine his intent, but he’d surprised her before, and so she couldn’t help but thrill at the anticipation of what was to come.
They didn’t move, but just stood there for the longest time, watching each other somewhat hesitantly. And then his arms were suddenly about her, pulling her against him as he finally kissed her.
It was a kiss to rival all kisses—a kiss so full of passion and desperate desire that it may as well have been their last. Heat wrapped itself around them as they delved deep within each other’s mouths, their lips bruising while their tongues tangled in the confines of the moist heat.
They both gasped for air when Michael pulled away, but his lips were upon her again in an instant, placing blistering sparks of pleasure along the rise of her br**sts. She raked her fingers through his hair and pressed herself against him. His hands gripped at the fabric of her shirt, gathering it, pulling it upward. She lifted her arms and the garment was gone.
Cool air encased her.
“Let me see you,” he said, his voice raspy with want. She stepped away from him, her blonde curls cascading over her shoulders.
“Venus,” he murmured, his face filled with awe.
Never in her life had Alexandra thought herself more beautiful, more feminine, or more desired. It intoxicated her senses in a way that nothing else ever would.
He reached out his hand toward her and she went to him—their embrace less fervent this time. Instead, it was more controlled and measured as he hugged her against him, his erection pushing itself against her belly—a constant reminder of what he was after. It surprised her how pleased she was to discover how powerful her effect on him was, and it occurred to her that she ought perhaps be frightened by it. But she wasn’t. This was Michael, and something about the way he touched her told her that he would treat her with care.