A Study In Seduction(65)



“Lord Northwood, I wish to… to apologize…” Her voice wavered, her hand coming up to coil a stray lock of hair around her fingers. “I can offer you no detailed explanation, but—”

A look of defeat overcame her, her rigid shoulders slumping, her eyes brimming with tears.

Alexander fought the urge to enfold her in his arms again but allowed his tone to soften. “You’ve no need to apologize. Believe me, I’m not worth this much distress.”

Lydia managed a faint smile through her tears. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “You must understand. I cannot marry you because I will never marry anyone. Ever. But please know that I’m deeply honored by the offer.”

“You’ve an odd way of showing it, Miss Kellaway.”

Lydia gave a watery laugh. “Oddness appears to be my modus operandi, Lord Northwood.”

He moved forward, lifting a hand to brush it over her hair in a gesture that first made her flinch before she stilled and let him touch her. He smoothed a few tendrils of hair from her forehead, then lowered his hand.

Her smile faded. “I owe you more of an explanation—I know that—but there isn’t much else I can tell you.”

“I cannot believe that.”

“I’m sorry.”

The air between them thickened. She pulled back. He gripped her shoulders.

She stared at him, those blue eyes searing through him like a slice of the sky. He put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that made them both shudder. He drew her lower lip between his as he eased away, every part of his being aching for her.

She lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, sliding her finger across his lips. Something seemed to open inside her, a spilling light, a fateful certainty.

“I can’t marry you,” she whispered. “Please never ask me that again. But I will… I want to be your lover.”

Alexander’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I will not compromise you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Confusion rose hard and fast, frustrating Alexander with his ever-present urge to fully understand this woman.

“Why?” He tightened his hands on her shoulders. “Why engage in something so scandalous when there is another way? If you would—”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me again.” She put her lips against his cheek, her hand sliding across his chest, her whole body curving into him. “Take what I’m offering you, Alexander. Please.”

Alexander fought a hard but brief battle with his conscience. God knew he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. Yet he knew the cost of scandal, and it was a price he never wanted Lydia to pay.

He forced his fingers to uncurl from her shoulders, to release her.

“Go back to your room,” he said, his voice strained from the tension pulling between his mind and his body. “I will leave for London first thing tomorrow morning.”

She stared at him for an instant, then turned and fled back into the house.





Chapter Seventeen




Lydia wanted to breathe. She wanted to pull great gulps into her lungs, to feel her body filling, her ribs expanding, her blood singing with sweet, delicious air. And she wanted to exhale, to slacken, to sink into a chair with repletion. Then she wanted to do it again, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Over and over and over.

She closed her eyes. An hour had passed since she’d left Alexander on the terrace. She feared he might never return, that perhaps he’d decided to return to London that very night…

“God.”

The whispered oath made her turn. Alexander stood in the doorway of his bedchamber, staring at her. She was clad in her corset and underpetticoat, her dress and overpetticoats in a crumpled heap on the floor. Lydia’s blood thundered in her ears, nerves and fear twisting through her belly.

“I told you to go to your bedchamber.” His voice was unsteady.

Lydia shook her head. Although he hadn’t acquiesced to her offer, she knew he wanted her. He would not—could not—resist her blatant invitation.

She waited for a heart-stopping instant for his reaction to her undressed state but saw not the faintest hint of aversion cross his features. Only a desire so deep, so seething, it stole her breath.

She almost couldn’t speak. “Y-you’re really leaving tomorrow? Because of me?”

Lydia took a tentative step toward him, but he held up a hand.

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