Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (12 page)

“No one said anything to me, my lord. But even if someone had, I don’t see why you would concern yourself.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I’m perfectly capable of issuing a set-down should the occasion call for it. If I’m pale, it’s merely because I’m fatigued. I find it draining to conduct so many readings in one sitting.”

“Communing with the spirits is exhausting?”

She ignored his dry tone. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”

“Then, by all means, let’s get you home.”

Less than five minutes later Alex sat across from him in the confines of his luxurious coach. The thick, velvet squabs ensconced her in delicious softness, and her eyes slid closed as a sigh of pleasure escaped her.

“Better than a hack?” came his deep voice, laced with amusement.

Her eyes popped open. He leaned back in the seat opposite her, watching her through hooded eyes, a half smile curving one corner of his mouth.

“A bit,” she said, matching his light tone. Even though she sternly reminded herself that this glimpse into luxury was fleeting, she was determined to enjoy her few moments of comfort.

Except it was difficult to feel completely comfortable with Lord Sutton’s unsettling gaze resting upon her, not to mention the lingering doom predicted by his card reading and the possible threat to her from the raspy-voiced killer.

Silence stretched between them. Did he feel this same undercurrent of tension as she? She needed to warn him about what she’d read in his cards, but he looked preoccupied. Troubled. Deciding to fill the noiseless void before broaching the subject uppermost on her mind, she asked, “How was your evening?”

Instead of tossing off a reply, he appeared to seriously consider her question. Finally, he said, “Tiring. Forgettable. Yours?”

She was tempted merely to echo his sentiments, but while her evening had been tiring, it hadn’t been forgettable, for which she blamed him entirely. Well, that and the fact that someone who’d surely like to see her with her toes cocked up had only moments ago stood close enough to touch.

“My evening was…interesting,” she said.

“How so?”

“I enjoy meeting people. Learning about them through their readings.”

“I’m envious. Perhaps I should take up card reading. I’m afraid I do not find fending off matchmaking mothers or attempting to converse with their vapid nitwit daughters in the least bit interesting.” He leaned forward, and Alex’s breath caught at his sudden nearness. Less than three feet separated his face from hers, a distance that simultaneously felt much too close and not nearly close enough.

Resting his elbows on his spread knees, he loosely clasped his hands and looked at her through eyes that glittered with a hint of deviltry. “While I appreciate your very convincing claim—for which I paid a fortune, by the way—that the woman destined for me has dark hair, I really would have preferred something a bit more exact. Something,
anything
, that would save me the pains of discussing the weather with another gaggle of giggling girls.” He shook his head. “Can none of them carry on an even remotely intelligent conversation?”

“Most likely they are merely nervous in your presence, my lord.”

“Nervous?”

“Surely you can understand that a young, inexperienced woman might find a man like you intimidating.”

One dark brow shot up. “Actually, no. And what, exactly, is a man like me?”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse, my lord. Your position in Society alone is enough to render many people tongue-tied, let alone a young woman. Especially one who is accompanied by a matchmaking mother and who wishes to impress you.”

“
You
do not appear to find me intimidating, nor are
you tongue-tied in my presence. A fact that cost me a great deal of money this evening.”

“But I am not a young, inexperienced girl bent on impressing you, my lord.”

“From the standpoint of my rapidly diminishing funds, that is a pity indeed.” He bent his head and appeared to study her gloved hands, filling her with the urge to bury her hands beneath the folds of her gown. Then he looked up, pinning her with a serious gaze. “So a man like me is one who is titled?”

“Yes.”

“I see. And that’s it? Nothing else?”

Colin waited for her answer, every muscle inexplicably tense, telling himself that he didn’t care a jot what she said. That if she only saw him as a title and nothing more, it didn’t matter at all.

A glimmer of mischief kindled in her eyes. “You’re casting about for compliments, my lord. And in an entirely shameless manner.”

Was he? Bloody hell, he didn’t know. It wasn’t something he normally did, but then he normally never felt this thrown off-balance in a woman’s presence.

“Not compliments,” he said after considering, “but simply your meaning. Of course, if your meaning happens to be complimentary, so much the better.”

“And if it doesn’t happen to be complimentary?”

“I’d still like to know. Of course, it could lessen your chances of bilking me out of another sovereign anytime soon.”

Her lips twitched. “In that case, I meant a man of your commanding bearing, superior intelligence, and passable good looks.”

His brows shot up. “
Passable?
”

“I, of course, meant your
superior
good looks.”

“I thought it was my intelligence you found superior.”

“As well as your looks.”

“Two seconds ago, you found my looks only passable.”

She smiled. “But in a most superior way.”

His gaze dropped to her curved lips, and the carriage suddenly seemed bereft of air. The urge to give in to the longing to touch her that had clawed at him all evening threatened to overwhelm him. He gripped his hands together, fighting the need, because he strongly suspected that if he gave in, a single touch wouldn’t be enough.

Deciding his best recourse was to change the subject, he said, “You told me you accepted my offer to escort you home because you wished to discuss something with me.”

The amusement faded from her eyes, and he instantly missed it. Although he should be happy it was gone as he found it far too attractive and tempting. But bloody hell, she was no less attractive or tempting without it. Perhaps if he tossed a sack over her head…but no, he’d still be able to see her luscious curves. A full-body sack—that’s what he needed. To cover her from head to toe. And if the sack happened to mask her alluring orangey scent, so much the better.

“I wished to discuss your card reading.”

Her words yanked him from his brown study. “Oh? Which one? This afternoon’s, which cost a small fortune, this evening’s which cost a larger fortune, or tomorrow’s, which I suspect will somehow end up costing me a larger fortune still?”

“This evening’s. Because of Lady Newtrebble’s presence, I did not tell you everything I saw.” Her gloved fingers plucked at the folds in her gown. “I’m afraid the cards revealed all the same distressing things I saw earlier today, my lord. The deceit, betrayal, and treachery.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The illness, danger, and death.”

“I see.” He studied her for several seconds, and while her expression gave nothing away, her manner seemed genuinely distressed. A fissure of unease crept down his spine. His gut had been telling him that he faced the same things she’d seen in his cards. Could there be any truth to what she read, or was it merely a parlor trick and coincidence?

He shook his head. Bloody hell, he was turning into a fanciful nodcock. This woman was clever, and he’d be a fool to underestimate her. If she predicted a rosy future for him, their sessions would end. By predicting doom and gloom, she no doubt hoped to keep him interested—enough to continue paying her outrageous fees.

“Given how we’ve agreed that women say one thing and mean another, am I to take it that ‘deceit, betrayal, and treachery’ actually means I’m going to come into large sums of money and find the woman of my dreams?”

“This is no joking matter, my lord.”

“Don’t disarrange yourself, Madame. I’ve no wish to insult you, but as I told you from the outset, I hold little belief in card readings.”

She frowned and leaned forward. “You must be wary. Careful—”

“I always am, so please do not distress yourself further on my account. Now, tell me. Did you do as I suggested?”

“Suggested?”

“Yes. I told you to think of me.” When she appeared completely nonplussed, he added softly, “And wonder what my excellent idea is.”

She blinked then lifted her chin. “I was so occupied with my readings, I’m afraid I didn’t give the matter any thought.”

He shook his head. “Pity. As I’d hoped to tempt you.
But clearly you are not a woman who gives in to temptation.”

“No, I’m not. Most definitely not.”

Reaching into the darkened corner of his seat, he lifted a small, linen-wrapped bundle. “An admirable virtue, Madame. I applaud your resolve. However, I am not made of such stern stuff.” He unwrapped the bundle then watched her eyes widen.

“What are those?” she asked, leaning closer.

“Miniature cakes. The insides are layers of chocolate cake and raspberry cream. Each creation is then dipped in chocolate and topped with a dab of creamy frosting.”

“Oh…my.” Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, a pink flick that stilled him. “How did such lovely things come to be in your carriage?”

“My cook prepared them. I pilfered these four and hid them in the carriage so I could eat them on the way home. My excellent idea was to enjoy them with someone who shares my weakness for sweets.” He blew out an exaggerated breath. “Alas, as you gave the matter no thought, ’tis clear you’re not interested.”

“Oh, but—”

“Nor are you a woman who gives in to temptation.” He reached out and waved the bundle beneath her nose. “Pity.”

Her nostrils flared, and her eyes closed briefly. Her lips parted, drawing his attention to her lush mouth. Then she cleared her throat. “My lord, I believe we’d agreed that it isn’t necessary to fight temptation in all cases.”

“Actually, while I recall saying as much, I’ve no recollection that you agreed.”

“Certainly I meant to. Especially as frosted cakes are involved.” Her gaze flicked down to the treats he held. “Lovely, delicious-looking, sweet-smelling frosted cakes. I think your idea to enjoy them with someone who
shares your weakness for sweets is beyond excellent. Indeed, I’m tempted to call it genius.”

He smiled. “Then I
have
managed to tempt you.”

“I fear I’ve folded like a house of fortune-telling cards.”

“My dear Madame Larchmont, given these cakes, even
I
could have predicted that outcome.” He picked up one of the treats and held it out. When she reached for it, he pulled back his hand and shook his head. “You’ll stain your gloves. Allow me.” He extended his hand and held the morsel in front of her lips.

Her startled gaze met his, and he could almost see her internal struggle as she debated propriety over longing for the treat. Finally, she leaned forward and took a delicate bite.

Her lips brushed his fingertips, shooting heat up his arm. But that heat seemed cool compared to the inferno she ignited when her eyes slid slowly closed, and a low moan of pleasure rumbled in her throat. Transfixed, he watched her lips slowly move as she savored the bite of cake. When she finished, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips to capture any remaining flavor. His entire body tightened, and he had to press his own lips together to stifle a groan.

She expelled a long sigh that sounded like a contented purr. Then her eyes opened, and she looked at him with a glazed expression through half-closed lids.

“Ooooooh, my,” she whispered. “That was…lovely.”

Bloody hell. Lovely didn’t even begin to describe it. With her lips parted and moist and her eyelids drooping, she looked aroused and more delicious than any sweet he’d ever seen. And by God, he wanted to taste her more than he’d ever desired any sweet.

He wasn’t certain how long he sat there, simply gap
ing at her, but finally she blinked, and said, “You’re staring, my lord.”

He had to swallow twice to locate his voice. “No, I’m…admiring.” Without taking his gaze from her, he moved to sit on the seat next to her. Raising the uneaten half to her lips, he said, “For you.”

“You don’t want it?”

God help him, at the moment his entire existence boiled down to the word
want
. “I want you to have it,” he said in a husky rasp he barely recognized.

He touched the morsel to her mouth, and she parted her lips. After slowly sliding the bite-sized portion into her mouth, he withdrew his hand, dragging the tip of his index finger across her lower lip, leaving a glistening film of melted chocolate behind.

Her pupils flared, and she pressed her lips together, catching his fingertip. The erotic sight and breath-stealing sensation of her lips surrounding his fingertip rendered him immobile. Heat engulfed him, and his heart pounded, pumping fire to every nerve ending. His finger slowly slid free, and he watched every nuance of her expression as she ate the offering, growing more aroused with each passing second. Damn it, when had watching someone eat become so sensual? So sexually charged?

Her eyes slid closed, and her jaw slowly moved as she chewed, eliciting a low growl of delight as she swallowed. Then her tongue slowly swept across her bottom lip, erasing the thin gloss of chocolate he’d left there.

Then she opened her eyes. “That was marvelous.”

“For me as well.” His voice sounded as if he’d swallowed gravel.

“But you didn’t have any.”

“I’d prefer to taste yours.” Angling his head, he brushed his lips over hers. She drew in quick breath, then went perfectly still. “Sweet,” he murmured, touch
ing his lips to hers again. “Delicious.”
More. Must have more
.

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed each corner of her mouth, then lightly ran his tongue over her full bottom lip. Her lips parted on a tiny, breathless sound, and he instantly took advantage, settling his mouth on hers. And was immediately lost.

Had any woman ever tasted this luscious? This warm and delectable? No…only this woman. This woman who’d haunted him for four years. This woman whom he’d never expected to see again, touch again, anywhere other than in his dreams. This woman whom he’d somehow known, in his heart, would taste like this. Utterly perfect.