Carrying The Gentleman's Secret. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
Her full lips were inviting, her drawn-up hair displaying to perfection the long slender column of her throat—white and arched and asking to be caressed. In fact, she looked like a beautiful work of art.
When she had confronted him earlier, normally he would not have reacted quite so angrily, but he had been on edge ever since he had found out that Henry had absconded to Scotland with an unknown woman. He had been on edge before that, having spent an extremely tiresome few days dancing attendance on Irene—the wilful, spoilt sister of his good friend Sir David Hilton.
He had spent the past few weeks as David’s guest at his house on the outskirts of Paris, a city which David loved and to which he would escape at every opportunity. David had returned with him to London, his sister accompanying him. Alex had intended spending the day prior to him learning about Henry’s escapade at his house, Aspen Grange, in Berkshire. David was a close neighbour and the two of them had planned to do some fishing. It had been unfortunate for Alex that Irene had come along. That she nurtured hopes of marriage between them was evident, for she had hounded him ever since the demise of his wife.
But Irene would be disappointed, for he had no intention of marrying again in a hurry. He had nothing but contempt for an institution that he had once believed would bring him happiness and fulfilment, but which had brought him nothing but misery instead.
‘If I were not tied up in the north on business, I would offer to take you back.’
‘Please do not concern yourself with my welfare. I’ll be all right, really,’ she said with more determination than accuracy. ‘I can find my own way.’ A wistful look clouded her eyes and her lips curved in a tremulous smile. ‘It feels strange when I remember that tonight should have been my wedding night. I did not think it would end like this.’ She sighed, meeting his eyes. ‘None of that matters any more. We will not meet again, sir, for I doubt our paths will cross in the different societies in which we move.’
Alex was reluctant to let her go. The light shone on her soft dark hair and he visualised himself touching it, loosening it from its pins, running his fingers through it, feeling it caress his naked flesh as they shared an embrace. Despite her lowly background she was not of the common kind and there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. She had the poise of a woman fully conscious of her beautiful face and figure, and his instinct detected untapped depths of passion in her that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, full-blooded male like himself. The impact of those signals brought a smouldering glow to his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to possess such a glorious creature.
‘It need not be like that.’ His expression suddenly changed and the lightness disappeared from his tone as he came to a decision. ‘You strike me as a sensible young woman—and a beautiful one—although from my experience the two do not always keep good company.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I realise that this should have been your wedding night,’ he said, speaking softly, holding her with his gaze, knowing that she, too, was the victim of irresistible forces at work between them. ‘You don’t have to be alone tonight.’
He waited for her to reply, watching her, knowing that her reaction to his suggestion would determine everything between them. She looked startled by his question and for a moment held his gaze with innocent perplexity. A sudden shock of hunger that she might accept shot through him, but he was to be disappointed.
His words and their implication did indeed take Lydia by surprise. What shocked her even more in that second when it registered was her inclination to accept his offer. She had spent most of her life in the more deprived areas of London—she was not naive and would have had to be a fool not to have known the implication of his words. Throughout the meal and the warmth that had developed between them, and the way he’d listened to her as she had told him about her work and hopes for the future, she had been quite carried away.
She watched his smile. It was a most appealing smile. Her resolve hardened automatically at the sight of it. After today she knew well enough what degree of complicity an appealing smile was able to conceal. Henry had taught her to discount any warmth she might feel for another human being. To feel that way led to weakness, which could be fatal.
Hot colour flooded her cheeks and she took a step back abruptly. ‘Either I am mad, sir, or you are,’ she said, keeping her voice low so as not to overheard by others drifting in and out of the hall. ‘What kind of woman do you think I am? I do not want to sound ungrateful for your kind attention, but I feel that now you are either carrying gallantry too far or pitying me to the extreme.’
‘I am not being gallant, Miss Brook, nor do I pity you,’ he said, his eyes held by this vibrant, graceful woman who was so close he only had to raise his hand to touch her. ‘That has nothing to do with it. I assure you I am completely serious.’ He spoke softly, so cool, so self-assured, holding her gaze.
‘Yes, I can see you are, and if you wonder at my decision to turn you down it is because I have a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.’
‘Not so well developed, otherwise you would have seen through Henry from the beginning,’ he murmured.
‘No doubt you think that because Henry picked me up from the back streets of London I am fair game. You are mistaken. How can you suggest anything so improper? I am not a whore. I am not for sale. If you were any sort of gentleman, you would not have said what you just did.’
The savagery in her tone startled Alex. ‘It was merely a suggestion. I thought that after all that has happened today you might not want to be alone.’
‘I like my own company, Mr Golding. Henry has turned out to be most unworthy. If I agreed to what you suggest, I could well be uniting myself with another equally unworthy.’
Alex’s jaw tightened, and he stepped away from her. So, she thought she could impose on him with her ladylike airs. But then, furious with himself, more than with her, after all she had been through that day, he understood how insulted she must feel by his improper suggestion. ‘If you are going to cast doubt on my good intentions, then there is nothing more for me to do than bid you goodnight and wish you a safe journey.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Golding,’ she said in a shaky, breathless voice, trying to ignore the dull ache of disappointment in her chest, regretting this new turn of events that had ruined the closeness that had developed between them throughout the meal.
Alex looked at her face, drawn by the candlelight reflecting softly in the depths of her eyes and the appealing pink of her lips slightly parted to reveal shining white teeth. His conscience rising up to do battle at what he had suggested, he tried flaying his thoughts into obedience, but he could smell her perfume in the air, which weakened his resolve.
He had known and made love to many beautiful women, but he could not remember wanting any of them on first acquaintance as he wanted Lydia Brook. What was it about her that he found so appealing? Her sincerity? Her innocence? Her smile that set his heart pounding like that of an inexperienced youth in the first throes of love? He told himself that what he felt was the ache of frustrated desire, but whatever it was he could not deny that she affected him deeply. Almost without conscious thought, as she was about to turn away he found himself reaching for her.
Lydia was surprised when he suddenly took hold of her arm and drew her into a curtained alcove beneath the stairs. The light was muted, the space small, forcing them together. She gave a sharp jerk, trying to pull herself free, but his arms went around her, drawing her close.
‘Please,’ she gasped, lifting her head and dragging her eyes past his finely sculpted mouth to meet his gaze, suspecting he was going to kiss her. ‘This should not be happening.’ Raising his hand, he gently brushed her cheek with the tip of his finger, moving it down with sensuous slowness. Her skin grew warm with pleasure.
‘I know,’ he said, bending his head to whisper quietly against her hair, and she impulsively turned her head slightly to meet his cheek with her own. ‘Just one kiss, Miss Brook. Where’s the harm in that?’ The contact with her flesh was electric. He raised his head, his smouldering eyes gazing