Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(58)

“Especially since Christian was born,” Rosalie said, her eyes glowing as she looked at her scampering son. “This child has brought out the side of Rand that onlyI was able to see before. He has become more approachable, gentle…”Rosalie grinned impishly. “He used to intimidate most people quite terribly.”

As if he still didn’t. “I remember,” Mira said dryly.

“But now Rand and I are closer than I ever dreamed we could be. The kinds of doubts that I hear my friends speak of… their worries about their husbands’ fidelity, their lack of trust… I will never have those kinds of fears.”

“You’re very fortunate,” Mira commented softly, and as she looked at the small boy in front of them, she felt a pang of hunger for the kind of love, the kind of security that Rosalie had described.

“You will have that someday,” Rosalie said.

Mira shrugged, concealing her emotions with a careless smile. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally, knowing that if she denied the statement another lecture would ensue.

“Has there ever been a man who… well, one you might have fallen in love with?”

Mira hesitated before replying. She would not lie to Rosalie, but there were some things that must never be revealed. The fact that Alec Falkner had been her lover would always be a secret. “Yes,” she murmured.

“Lord Sackville,” Rosalie said, her brow wrinkling with a perplexed frown.

“I can’t confirm or deny that.”

“Mireille, if it was Lord Sackville,” Rosalie said tentatively, “it is my opinion that he was more like a father to you than…” She broke off uncomfortably and sighed. “I suppose I can’t really offer an opinion on something I know so little about. But love… real love… only occurs between people who have a great deal more in common than you and Lord Sackville.”

“I know what real love is,” Mira replied quietly as memories flashed through her mind: Alec holding her against his broad na**d chest, his eyes sparkling with wicked laughter, or glowing with anger, or quiet withthoughtfulness. The chinks of vulnerability he fought so hard to conceal from everyone. The trapped, hungry expression that he had sometimes worn as he looked at her. Oh, Alec, her heart whispered in despair, why did you let me leave you? “Although my feelings were not returned,” she continued with effort, “I know what it is like to care so deeply that there is nothing left inside me to give. I won’t love anyone that way again—it would be impossible.”

“You are too young to be so certain of that,” Rosalie said. “Do you know what the Gypsies believe?... that men and women are the halves of a single unity that has been split and separated… that we are each searching for our soulmate, the one for whom we have been destined. If you are truly meant to be with Sackville—”

“I didn’t say that Sackville was the one—” “The man you care for,” Rosalie amended. “If you are meant to be with him, then fate will bring you together. And if he is hot the right one, your soulmate is still out there somewhere looking for you.” “And waiting for the social season to begin?” “Yes,” Rosalie said, laughing. “Waiting for you to appear, after having spent a long and cold winter alone.”

“Alone?” Mira repeated. “No, somehow I don’t think he’ll spend it alone.” Through her anguish came a sudden flicker of anger, and she grasped at it tightly. Anger was a far healthier emotion than grief, and perhaps if she was fortunate, she could nurture it into indifference. She would never be able to completely overcome her feelings for Alec Falkner, but she would find some way to survive them.

“Would you like some breakfast, my lord?” “Thank you, but no.”

Georgiana Bradbourne, the recently widowed Countess of Helmsley, padded barefoot across the room tothe small table on which a breakfast tray had been placed. The scent of strong coffee filled her bedchamber with an acrid aroma. She poured the beverage with practiced movements, her slim white hands alighting daintily on the silver and china cups. As Alec watched her, he reflected on the fact that she did everything with the same type of well-rehearsed precision, whether it was dancing, flirting, pouring coffee, or lovemaking. There were no surprises to Georgiana. Even her body, so clearly visible through the filmy wrap she wore, was smooth and regular, with no birthmarks or moles to mar its velvety surface. Her conversation was pleasant, for she seldom argued with him, preferring instead to align all of her opinions with his. Most men would count their blessings if they possessed the affection of Lady Bradbourne, a woman who was as close as possible to being perfect. Alec frowned slightly, realizing that Georgiana’s endless perfection was beginning to bore him. He sat up and rested his shoulders against the paneled headboard of the bed, catching at the edge of the sheet to keep it from slipping down his hips.

“Don’t pull the sheet up,” Georgiana said, smiling and coming to sit on the edge of the bed as she sipped her coffee. “I like to look at you.” She was a beautiful woman, voluptuous and blond, with pale coloring and aristocratic demeanor.

Knowing that it was expected of him, Alec took her free hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “As always, I contemplate the prospect of leaving your bed with the greatest reluctance,” he said, and she laughed lightly.