Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(19)

“Walter,” Alec inquired absently, drumming his fingers on the side of the porcelain tub, “do you know anything about herbs or plants?” Alec’s hair was as wet and shining as the coat of a sleek seal, drops of water from the bath clinging to his eyelashes, his tanned face wearing a mild frown.

Walter, his faithful valet for the past five years, paused in the midst of straightening up Alec’s room. He was the ultimate gentleman’s gentleman—hardworking, well-mannered, discreet, a well-hidden but dry sense of humor occasionally surfacing… and at forty-four years of age he was old enough to give advice when requested but young enough to survive the rigors of accompanying someone as restless and travel-oriented as Alec.

“Milord,” Walter replied evenly, “as far as gardening goes, I don’t know a clod of earth from a horse dropping.”

“Dammit.” Alec sighed, his expression brooding. “Get me a towel, will you?”

“However,” Walter said, handing him a huge length of huckaback, a stout linen with a rough surface used for toweling, “I do have odd bits of information stored here and there—would you care to ask the question anyway?”

“Why not?” Alec wrapped the rectangle around his lean h*ps and reached for another towel as he stepped out of the tub. “What exactly is a mandrake root used for?”

Suddenly Walter began to choke, his round fuzz-topped head reddening. Usually he prided himself on the fact that he seldom laughed or even cracked a smile unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Alec scowled at Walter’s uncharacteristic fit of snickering. Finally the valet regained control over himself, his slight form straightening as he settled back into his perfect posture.

“Has someone told you recently that you needed one?” he inquired blandly, his mouth twitching at the corners.

“No. It was a… reference I heard the other day… and I’d never heard much about it before.” His expression darkened as he added sardonically, “Until now I had never suspected such vital knowledge had been omitted from my education.”

“You would be the last man in England to hear about it, my lord, for the simple reason that you have no need of the effects of the mandrake root.”

“Well, stop standing there with that prissy smirk on your face. Out with it, Walter!”

“It is usually given to a man for certain reasons, all pertaining to the… reproductive organs. It can enhance fertility…”

Oh God, Alec thought, he wants her to have his child.

“...or, more frequently,” Walter continued, “it is taken by a man in the hopes that it will cure impotence.”

Not a muscle in Alec’s face moved.

“Just… just to get things straight,” he managed to ask after a few seconds, “we’re talking about the commonly understood sense of the word ‘impotence’?”

Walter nodded matter-of-factly before resuming his tasks about the room.

“Thanks,” Alec said, frowning thoughtfully before rubbing his head roughly with the towel. What kind of game was Mira playing? Was it possible that for all his manly talk, Sackville was impotent? Or was it just that Mira was a scheming little mischief-maker?

Chapter Three

Mira took great pains to avoid Alec for the next few days. She did not venture out in the mornings any longer, though that activity would soon be curtailed by the decreasing temperatures of the autumn days. Staying in the kitchen, finding a solitary spot in the garden, or curling up in the sitting room when they were empty, she managed to put a measure of physical distance between herself and the man who had the power to fluster her so easily. Unfortunately she could not keep her thoughts from dwelling on him constantly.

It would not be difficult to fall in love with Alec Falkner—that was a truth that she could not ignore. He appealed to her in every way… she did not even mind his temper, having discovered that it was coupled with a wry sense of humor. Though he had a temper, he could also be gentle. The thought that he wanted her filled her with excitement and a peculiar kind of dismay. She knew that he was attracted to her in spite of himself and that he would not have chosen to want her, if such a thing were merely a matter of choice. She thought often of the minutes on the turret steps when he had cradled her in his arms, and she wondered if he thought of it too. Unable to dispel her obsession with him, she began to ferret out information about him, even questioning Sackville discreetly.

“How did I meet him?” Sackville repeated as she poured tea for him and handed him a plate of his favorite biscuits. The firelight shone cozily around the two of them as they sat alone in a small parlor. Sackville’s face was red from a long day of hunting, and he stretched his legs before the fire appreciatively. He loved to chat idly and relax with a cup of brandy-laced tea after a great deal of exertion. “It was about seven years ago during a hunt… black-haired young devil… he was the kind that I like to take down a peg or two when I can. By himself he was a tolerable sort, quiet and polite, but whenever that cousin of his was around—Holt, the one who’s gone now—he was the most unruly rake I’d ever seen.”

“Why was he different around his cousin?” Mira prompted, her voice deliberately casual.

“Holt kept urging him on, you see…” Sackville chuckled and shook his head reminiscently. “They looked so much alike that there were many jests— Holt was the worse half of the pair, while Alec was the one with the conscience. Put together, they complemented each other perfectly.”