He arched an eyebrow.
“Lord Whitmore again? Please, Fiona. Don't do that to me. When I hear Lord
Whitmore, I think of my uncle, who had six fingers and thought bathing was a
trick of the devil.”
She giggled. “I can understand your
wanting to maintain the distinction.”
“Every time you call me Lord
Whitmore, I will call you Eloise.”
She glared at him, the curtains
clutched to her chest like bedclothes, as if she were a maiden in threat of
seduction. “You wouldn't.”
He shrugged. “It is your name. Lady
Eloise Fiona Ferguson Hawes.”
“No one knows,” she hissed.
He leaned in very close. “I do.”
She reared back and almost tipping
the ladder again. “That is patently unfair.”
He shrugged and reached up for the
curtains. “All is fair in love and safety.”
She refused to budge. “I do not
believe that is precisely the quote.”
Grinning, he put his foot on the
second rung, just beneath her. “Close enough.”
And then he made the mistake of
looking into her eyes. Her blue, blue eyes that were suddenly black with arousal.
He heard the sharp intake of her breath and saw the erratic pulse beating at
the base of her long white throat.
His own body reacted just as it had
every time he'd gotten close to her. He focused in on her, his grip on her
tightening. Still she didn't move, caught in the circle of his free arm, her
hip pressed against his chest, her mouth just above his. All he had to do was
climb another rung, and he could satisfy a four-year-old craving.
His heart was galloping suddenly,
and he could feel a bead of sweat roll down his back. He could see a glow on
her forehead, her upper lip. Her eyes widened, as if she could read his
thoughts, and he could scent something new. Arousal. Need. Hunger. His own body
was shaking with it. He swore his cock had taken on a life of its own, and his
brain simply shut down.
He leaned a bit closer, his foot
still on the step beneath her and paused, giving her a chance to escape, to
clout him in the head if necessary. She didn't. She watched him the way prey
might a raptor, unsure and wary. He
didn't blame her. He wasn't certain how much control he had over himself. It
had been so long since he'd had a woman. So much longer since he'd really liked
the one he had.
Slowly, so he didn't startle her
into tipping the ladder, he rose up and set his other foot on the rung. She was
frozen in place, one hand fisted around the blood-deep velvet, the other
clenched against the ladder, as if she was still uncertain whether to use it.
She didn't. She inhaled, her mouth
opening just a bit, as if there wasn't enough air. As if she were struggling to
stay afloat.
Sink, Alex wanted to say as
he lifted himself face-to-face with her, mouth-to-mouth. Sink into me.
“I knew it!” a voice screeched behind him,
shattering the moment. “What did I tell you about lettin' them jackanapes in
here?”
Fiona reared back, as if he'd
attacked her, again throwing the ladder off balance. Alex instinctively pulled
back to stabilize them. He pulled back too far and the ladder tipped.
There was a lot of
yelling and a couple of muffled thuds as Alex landed on his back, cushioning
Fiona's fall. He wasn’t so lucky.
“Are you all right?” Fiona asked
immediately, leaning over him.
“Serves him right,” the housekeeper
snapped from the doorway.
He had hit his head so hard he was seeing stars. But he was
smelling cinnamon and Fiona, so he really couldn't complain
“That is enough, Mrs. Quick,” he
heard. “Alex? Your eyes are open. Can you hear me?”
Rather than admit that he was too
distracted by the plump pressure of her breast against his chest to answer, he
simply closed his eyes and groaned. The act would have been unworthy of him if
his head weren't pounding and his arse aching from hard contact with the floor
“Mrs. Quick,” she was saying, her
hand on his cheek. “See if Mr. Clemson is outside. Send him for the doctor.”
He knew his injuries didn't merit
such concern. “No doctor.” He blinked a couple of times until the multiple
Fionas resolved into one. “I'll live. My head is a bit bruised is all.”
In retaliation, she took away both
her hand and breast, which almost set Alex to groaning again. She actually
smacked him on the arm. “Then don't frighten me like that....again.”
“Don't know why you let him in here
at all,” came the grumble from the doorway.
Untangling them both from the
curtains, Fiona sat up. “Thank you, Mrs. Quick. I think we're all right now.”
“Ya think that, do ya?”
Fiona gave her the kind of
glare that betrayed her aristocratic heritage. The housekeeper, still
grumbling, clasped her hands in a parody of good servile behavior and stalked
off down the hall.
Fiona looked back down to where Alex
lay, and he could see the cost of the last tumble on her face. He should have
been outraged. He was lying in a nest of curtains with a fresh headache and the
humiliation of his fall, and she was...laughing.
She tried so hard not to. She held
her hand to her mouth. She shook her head. He could see her shoulders heave. He
would have chastised her, except the minute he opened his mouth, he burst out
laughing, too.
“You are not very beneficial to my amour
propre,” he wheezed up at her.
She couldn't stop laughing,
full-throated, full-bellied, as if too much suppressed laughter had simply
spilled over. “I...I....didn't...”
“Mean it,” he managed, making it up
as far as sitting beside her. “Yes, I know.”
She frantically shook her head.
“Think anything could be so...funny!” She was gasping, bent over her hands at
her waist. “The look on your face!”
He had meant to get up, to reassert
his mastery of the situation. He refused to sacrifice this perfect moment with
her on the floor. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he wiped at the tears
that coursed down her cheeks.
“It's not that funny,” he groused.
She started laughing again. “Oh, yes
it is. You can have no idea of how long it's been since I had the chance to
laugh. Since I last saw your sister, I think.”
He had to grin. “Well, yes. Pip
would set anybody to laughing. She's a ridiculous little thing.”
For that he got a resounding smack
on his chest. “Do not dare speak ill of my best friend.” She hiccuped, her eyes
widening a bit. “My only friend, actually. Except for Sarah and Lizzie. And now
that Sarah is married to my brother, I have no idea at all how we will meet
again.”
There was the faintest plaintive
note in her voice that made Alex want to curl her completely into his arms and
shield her from hurt. Dear God, how lonely she must have been. “I promise,” he said instead. “I fully
respect my sister's loyalty. It's her good sense I frequently question.”
Her breathing was evening out. She
nodded. “Pip does have a knack for acting before thinking.”
“She's like a whirlwind.”
“She needs to finally capture her
Beau,” Fiona said with a definite nod. “That would settle her down.”
Alex snorted. “Poor Beau. He'd never
have another moment's peace.”
And for a long moment, they just sat there in a pool of sunlight and velvet, his arm
around her and her head on his shoulder. It felt so good. So whole.
It couldn't last. If he didn't move,
he'd damn well take her here on the floor. He opened his mouth to tell her, and
then made the mistake of meeting her gaze again.
Her lips were still parted, but she
wasn't laughing anymore. He could see the pulse jumping at her throat, and her
hands were clenched again, as if she were trying hard to keep them to herself.
He didn't know why. Lifting his own
hand, he cupped her cheek. Again he gave her the chance to pull away. Again she
didn't. His own heart started to skip around. He was rock hard. There was no
longer a question. He had to kiss her.
