The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(66)
Henderson spun her about and they came to a stop, well hidden from anyone who might casually step out onto the terrace by a small alcove formed by another set of doors. He immediately dipped his head to kiss her, but she slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, preventing him. Letting out a small sound of protest, Henderson jerked his head back and stared down at her, his eyes glittering in the light of the bright moon.
“I need to tell you something,” Alice said in a rush.
“Go on.” His words were stiff, his entire body taut and waiting.
“I love you. I don’t want there to be any confusion on your part. I love you with all my heart and I always have. When you left, you took my heart with you and now you’ve brought it back. I never loved any of the men I was planning to marry, but you left and you never wrote and I didn’t know what to do.”
He laid a hand against one cheek, and Alice pressed against it, as if she could somehow absorb him into her. Then, letting out a long, heavy breath, he said, “That’s all I needed to know, Alice. I realize your parents will resist a match between us, but I will not give up until your father gives his consent.”
“We could elope,” Alice said with some reluctance and just as much hope, and was mostly glad when Henderson immediately rejected that idea.
“Your father would never forgive me. I think your parents will come around, love.”
Alice smiled. “I like that. Love. Oh, Henderson,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “Why can this not be as easy as telling my parents we are in love?”
She felt his arms wrap around her and for that moment had never felt more safe in her life. “Perhaps it will be as simple as that. Your parents don’t hate me, they’re just being good parents I suppose. Not wanting to taint the bloodline with God knows what. My father could be a criminal for all I know.”
“Or he could be a duke.”
Henderson chuckled. “Or a king.”
“Yes, I like that. A king. You do have rather a princely air about you this evening.”
“A good valet does wonders.” He let out a low sound. “God, it’s good to have you in my arms again. I feared it would never happen.”
Henderson pulled back just enough so that he could dip his head and kiss her, his lips warm and firm and wonderful against hers. On a sigh, Alice opened her mouth, welcoming his greedy tongue, feeling the desire that had been on the edge of her consciousness for days surge through her body. What was it about Henderson that spoke to her body this way, that made her wish they were naked and that they were joined? Such thoughts should embarrass or shame her, but all Alice could think about was how beautiful it would be when they finally consummated their love.
His manhood pressed against her center, and Alice let out a soft moan. It felt too good, too much. As if her body wanted to burst out of her skin, and she knew what the ending was to this feeling, that blissful completion. To feel that again, now, was so very, very tempting. “We should stop, Henderson. I feel… I feel too much.”
“I know. I know. But just another kiss and …” He brought one hand to skim the flesh above her gown before cupping one breast as he let out another guttural, primitive sound that made Alice’s blood grow even hotter. The night air was cool, but Alice had long ceased to feel anything but Henderson’s touch, hear anything but the low masculine sounds he made whenever they kissed. Her nipple grew erect beneath his palm and he moved his hand over her, teasing her, making the feeling between her legs intensify to the point that she began to move her hips in an effort to ease the ache.
“Please, Henderson. We have to stop,” she said, her voice tense with need.
He chuckled low. “One more kiss,” he said, and dipped his head so he could mouth her nipple over her gown.
Alice let out a small screech, the sensations too much. She was close to grabbing his hand and dragging him off the terrace and into the garden. Never in her life had she felt this way, as if she had no control over her body. It was very nearly frightening, the need that was coursing through her, making her contemplate such a thing.
“Henderson, stop. Oh, God, don’t…” I can’t take any more.
He did stop, abruptly so, and it took Alice a second to understand what had happened, that her father, with a feral sound she’d never heard in her life, had ripped Henderson from her arms.
“Get your filthy hands off my daughter, you low-born cur,” he said, his voice terrible and harsh in the quiet of the night.
“My lord, I—” But Henderson’s words were stopped when Richard backhanded Henderson across the face, the sound of the impact sharp and awful.
Henderson looked as stunned as Alice felt. Never had she seen her father act in violence. It was so far from his gentle nature, Alice could only stand frozen in shock at what was happening. What had they been thinking; they both knew how dangerous such a clandestine meeting could be.
“I assure you, sir, I mean no disrespect to—”
“Say another word and I shall murder you where you stand.”
“Father, no. You don’t understand.” He continued to stare at Henderson, his expression cold. “Father, please. Nothing untoward happened, we…Papa?”
Her father stumbled backward, one hand clutching at his chest, the other reaching out blindly behind him for the terrace rail, but missing. Before he could fall heavily to the hard marble beneath their feet, Henderson lunged forward and caught him and Alice let out a small scream.