Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Why don't we retire to the drawing room?" Chelsea suggested. "It must be time for a little light entertainment. All this serious talk is giving me a headache."

"Charades?" Stewart suggested as the four of them rose to their feet and began to file out of the room.

"Always been my favorite," Chelsea said.

She and Stewart went ahead, chatting quickly and happily between one another. Alexander watched them leave, holding back. This was his chance to be alone with Miss Charlotte, to speak with her without the prying ears of their friends, albeit for no more than a minute.

He waited for her to catch up to him then smiled at her. The tension he had seen melt away during dinner returned almost instantly, her shoulders tightening from his closeness. He wanted to put her at ease, wishing she did not dislike him so. He had rather enjoyed their conversation that evening and being able to gaze at her from across the table had made it all the better.

To call her beautiful felt like an injustice. She was more than that. Beauty felt so empty compared to what Miss Charlotte was. She excited him, both his mind and his body. She made the room feel somehow more alive than it would feel without her, and it sent his imagination reeling with inappropriate images.

"You need not worry," he said in a low voice as he came up beside her. "I will not reveal our secret."

She glanced up at him, and the sight of her eyes sent a tingle through him again. "You came dangerously close more than once," she said.

He grinned, hoping his boyish charm showed through. "I know."

As they turned into the corridor together, their shoulders brushed together. It was light, barely there, but Alexander shivered, imagining it was her bare flesh. She glanced up at him sharply as though he had touched her intentionally, but he pretended as if it hadn't happened, and she continued walking.

She made him feel young. Light. Like none of his problems existed—or if they did, that he could manage them. That they didn't matter compared to being in her company. That there was more to life than worry.

"But I was only teasing. Stewart and Lady Chelsea could never possibly guess the truth, no matter how close we came to mentioning it. And correct me if I am wrong, my lady, but I am certain I saw you stifle a laugh once or twice."

She stuck her nose into the air, as if refusing to give him an answer. He smirked, knowing he was right. He supposed he deserved that, too, and there was something in her haughty expression that set his heart racing again. It was like she was daring him, teasing him, drawing him in.

And I want to follow.

He let her walk a step ahead, licking his lips as he watched the way her buttocks sashayed as she walked. He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her, for the temptation was almost too much.

"Are you any good at charades?" she asked over her shoulder as they turned the corner to the drawing room.

Alexander cleared his throat, ridding himself of the images he knew he ought not have. "I've been known to win on occasion, yes," he said. "Though I must admit, it's not my favorite game."

"Let me guess," she said, turning and winking at him as they found their seats, "you much prefer hunting in the woods?"

Alexander was both surprised and tickled by her boldness. She had a sense of humor behind that wall of irritation that she so often liked to put up. He rather liked it when she teased him . This time, as she walked away, he knew she moved intentionally to lure him, and that—along with the mischievous wink—only made him want her more.

A confounding woman . He took his seat, pinching his trousers and pulling on them as he lowered himself into the cushioned seat. The butler handed him a glass of brandy, which he took gratefully, but his eyes did not leave the shape of Miss Charlotte's body, nor the way her gown brushed softly over the curve of her breasts.

And what ample breasts they are for such a lithe woman.

She seemed to have forgotten about him entirely, already deep in joyful conversation with Lady Chelsea. As if he were nothing. He placed his brandy on the small side table and ran his hand up his thigh. His flesh seemed particularly sensitive, as if just a simple touch would light a fire in him.

What on earth has gotten into me? He hadn't felt this physically alive for months, maybe even years. Not even Lucille had instilled such an uncontrollable desire in him. Oh, he'd enjoyed his time with her, of course, but it had always been her leading the games, never him. He had allowed himself to be her puppet but with Miss Charlotte, he wanted to be master.

"Really, Chelsea! I don't think it's a good idea!"

The renewed irritation in Miss Charlotte's voice made Alexander sit up and pay attention. He looked over to find Chelsea grinning eagerly and Miss Charlotte looking back at her imploringly.

"What's not a good idea?" he asked Stewart in a whisper.

"Chelsea says that Miss Charlotte has a beautiful voice and is insisting she sings for us."

Alexander raised an eyebrow and, loud enough for all to hear, he said, "Goodness, she's musical as well as athletic. She is a lady of secrets, isn't she?"

He caught her gaze, refusing to let it go, and though it was barely more than a second, they spoke so much to one another in that moment. Confounding though she might be, and as irritating as she found him, there was something between them. Some spark that Alexander did not understand. Nor did he particularly care to. He would never see this woman again after the wedding. He would simply enjoy playing the game for the time being.

"I am not a lady of secrets," she snapped back. "If anything, I am entirely open."

"Then sing for us," Chelsea pleaded. She sat on the very edge of her chair, almost close to toppling off it, and she held her hands out to Miss Charlotte as though that might encourage her.

Miss Charlotte huffed. "I don't see why you all want me to entertain you. Chelsea herself is a wonderful harpist."

Stewart snorted loudly at the same time as Chelsea giggled.

"I've heard my cousin play the harp," Stewart said. "And if you think that wonderful, then perhaps you and I have very different definitions of the word wonderful ."

Chelsea mocked gasped. "I admit I seem to have fifteen fingers when I play, but there's no need to go that far."

Stewart held his hands up in defeat. "I'm only saying I would rather not hear you play. I'm on your side, remember. We want to hear Charlotte sing."

"As do I," Alexander said.

He kept his gaze fixed on hers and pushed himself further down into the chair, as if making himself comfortable for the performance. He couldn't stop himself looking her up and down, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he imagined her serenading him, swaying as she moved her naked body closer to him.

She must have sensed his lewd thoughts, for she glared at him, her eyes burning into him. He laughed, sitting up straighter again and clearing his throat.

Honestly! What has gotten into me?

"Then at the very least someone can accompany me," she said, looking hopefully once more at Chelsea.

"Why, Your Grace," Chelsea said, turning her eyes on him, "Stewart tells me that you are an excellent pianist. So good, I believe he said, that you could have been a member of the orchestra, had things been different."

"You said that?" Alexander asked, looking at Stewart just as his friend broke into a grin.

"What a wonderful idea, Chelsea. I should imagine Alexander and Miss Charlotte will make a wonderful couple—" Alexander opened his mouth to protest, but Stewart said, "of musicians, I mean."

Alexander glanced over at Miss Charlotte. Her cheeks were flaming red, and she glared in anger at Chelsea. It was this, in truth, that helped him decide. This amusing reaction of hers that drove him to slap his knees as he stood. He enjoyed taunting her, playing with her, and if she were truthful with herself, she enjoyed it too.

"I say it's an excellent idea," he said and made his way over to the piano forte in the corner of the room.

Miss Charlotte swivel ed her body as she stared at him, mouth open aghast as though he had somehow betrayed her. He looked back with a grin, raising his eyebrows and daring her to say no. Her jaw bobbed up and down as she tried to find a way out of it, and that only served to make her all the more alluring.

Oh to run my tongue over those lips of hers. To explore her body and all its cavities.

Alexander put his fingers to the keys and began to tinkle, playing random little melodies to encourage her. She looked at Chelsea then turned back to him and sighed.

"Very well. If you are all so very keen to hear me sing, then I shall sing."

"It will probably work better if you go and stand near the duke," Chelsea said, earning herself another sharp look from Miss Charlotte and a fair chuckle from the rest of the room.

They both understood Chelsea's intentions perfectly, but while it infuriated Miss Charlotte, it only amused Alexander.

"Yes," he called. "Stand nearer the piano."

She marched over somewhat petulantly. "Do you know The Last Rose of Summer, at least?" she asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" he asked, and he began to play without taking his eyes from Charlotte herself.

His gaze remained on the shape of her lips as she opened her mouth. He wondered what they would feel like against his chest, his neck. As his fingers worked the keys, he imagined he was working her, driving her desire to higher and higher octaves.

But then she began to sing, and the noise that she produced was nothing short of angelic. Chelsea was right, she was a magnificent singer. Charlotte began low, her voice husky and sensual, but as the song came to a crescendo, the hairs on Alexander's neck stood on end. The power from her lungs was incredible, and he imagined making her moan in such a way.

When the song came to an end, the room fell into an astonished pause, Miss Charlotte catching her breath and Alexander blinking at her in astonishment. Together, they had made the most beautiful music, such as he'd never been able to do with any other singer. And now her chest rose and fell with her heavy breasts, making her bosom heave.

After a second or two, Stewart and Chelsea erupted into an applause.

"My goodness," Chelsea exclaimed. "That is the best I've ever heard you sing yet."

"You really do make quite the pair," Stewart said.

Miss Charlotte's expression was one of panic, and Alexander wondered why. Did she really despise him so much that she couldn't even enjoy the compliment? She glanced at them then at Alexander.

"Perhaps," she replied. "But it really has exhausted me now. If you don't mind, I think I'll retire."

"Oh." Chelsea pouted with disappointment. "But we were enjoying ourselves so much, and we shan't be alone for much longer. I had word that Mother and Father arrive tomorrow."

"Well, it will be nice to see aunty," Stewart declared, "even if it has been fun, just the four of us pretending to be grown-ups."

"Perhaps a little guardianship will do us good," Miss Charlotte said, glancing once more at Alexander. "It is strange to be without a chaperone."

Stewart snorted. "It has been a long time since I have not been considered good enough to be chaperone. We are not reckless children, Miss Charlotte."

"Speak for yourself," Alexander muttered, though he was thinking of Charlotte again, of her abandon at the lake.

Is it me she does not trust? Or herself?

"Though I must admit," Alexander continued, getting up from the piano stool and stretching with an exaggerated yawn, "I am also rather tired. I shall see you all bright and early for breakfast."

"You shall see me at noon and no earlier," Stewart laughed as Alexander made his way out of the room.

It wasn't, of course, that he was tired. Rather, he hoped to catch Miss Charlotte on her way to her own bedchamber. He made his way out of the main corridor and hid in an alcove, waiting for her. He knew he shouldn't. She'd probably be furious with him. But he couldn't resist.

Time stretched. It seemed forever before she appeared. He wondered idly, while he hid there in the dark, whether she was intentionally avoiding him. But then she finally appeared, and he stepped out from the alcove in front of her.

"I thought you would never come."

Miss Charlotte let out a squeal of surprise, then quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. Her wide eyes cried at him – What is wrong with you? – and Alexander couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"I am sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you. I only wanted to talk to you."

She glowered at him. "And do you often hide in the shadows in the dead of night in order to speak to ladies you wish to speak to?"

He lowered his head, chuckled again. "No. I must admit I do not. But I didn't know how else I could get you alone."

"And why, pray tell, would you wish to get me alone?"

He paused, his lips parted as he gazed at her. She was tired, that much was evident. Her hair had begun to fall from her pins, framing her face in a tousled way. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, and her eyes alive with all that had happened that evening. She looked for all the world as if he'd already taken her with that soft post-love-making glow.

She stared back at him, equally captivated, swallowing back her desire. There was something between them, something connecting them. Some power that drew them ever closer. It he tried to pull away, some invisible force would drag him back.

And I would not resist.

"I… um…" He licked his lips, swallowed. His eyes remained fixed on her face, as if he couldn't pull them away, no matter what. "I only wanted to commend you on your singing tonight. I found it..." His jaw worked as he tried to find the words to explain the emotional response he'd had to the music.

"Well, that's very kind of you," she said.

Her voice had softened, her anger now a mild simmer, and she, too, couldn't pull her eyes away. Her breast rose and fell as it had when she finished singing. He wanted to embrace her, to feel that against his own chest.

He moved almost imperceptibly closer, his eyes on his lips. Could he kiss her? Would she allow it or run away? He moved closer still. He had no control over his movements, his desire pushing him forward.

"Not at all. I…" He stammered, his words not as smooth as they normally were, but his voice was low and husky. "I know you dislike me, my lady, but—"

"I don't dislike you, Your Grace," she said quickly, and he could see in her eyes that it was true. "But perhaps… perhaps the line between tension and passion is a fine one."

"You're right," he whispered, moving closer still. "And I must admit, I am feeling rather tense at the moment."

He reached out to touch her cheek, the softness beneath his fingertips. She leaned into it for the briefest of moments, and Alexander's heart raced with the possibility, the chance that he now had.

"Charlotte," he whispered. "I—"

She tensed and pulled away suddenly, as if realizing what she was doing.

"I am sorry, Your Grace, but we cannot do this."

He watched her hurry past him and into the darkness of the weaving corridor, his body crying out for her return.