A Stolen Heart (31 page)

Moore chuckled. “No, I did not find him to be so, either. But tell me, how came you, an American by your speech, to be related to Exmoor? Or to marry Lord Thorpe, for that matter.”

“The vagaries of fate,” Sebastian suggested.

“Mm.” Moore’s dark eyes went from Sebastian to Alexandra consideringly, and Alexandra had the impression that he did not completely believe in their marriage.

After the last course, Alexandra gratefully retired to the bedroom that Moore had ordered prepared for them. She was tired, and the wine had made her a little groggy, but, more than that, it was getting to be a strain to conceal the desire that throbbed beneath the surface. Her nipples were full and aching, and there was a yearning emptiness between her legs.

She looked at the bed and wondered what was going to happen tonight. They could not ask for separate rooms, not when Sebastian had assured the highwayman that they were married. But Alexandra could not imagine how she and Sebastian could spend the night in a bed together without touching. Just thinking about it, her nipples tightened.

Alexandra undressed and washed, but since she had no change of clothes, she had no choice but to slip on her chemise and an inner petticoat to sleep in. She looked at herself in the small mirror above the dresser. The pink-brown circles of her nipples showed through the material, the points thrusting against it. Lightly she touched them with her fingertips, remembering the way they had responded to Sebastian’s touch.

She sat on the side of the bed, listening to the men’s voices downstairs and wondering how long it would be before Sebastian came to bed. They were drinking, she supposed, and now and then she could hear a sudden bark of laughter. She wondered sourly if Sebastian planned to spend all night drinking with the man in order to avoid her. She curled up on the bed to wait.

It was there that Sebastian found her, sound asleep, two hours later when he came up to bed. He closed the door behind him and turned the lock, relieved to find that they had a key. He walked to the bed, swaying a little under the effects of the highwayman’s brandy, and stood looking at her.

Alexandra was lying on her side, her breasts pushing out of the top of her chemise. The thin material did little to conceal their size and shape or the saucily pointing nipples in their center. Her petticoat had slid up in her sleep, revealing her legs from the middle of her thighs down. He stood for a moment, looking at the curve of her calves and the long, slender line of her thighs. Her legs were long. He supposed some men might have found her too tall, but all he could think about was those legs wrapped around him, locking him against her. The barely dormant desire that had been thrumming in him all evening rose to a pulsating level.

He ran his finger slowly up her leg, stopping at the hem of her petticoat. He knew that he wanted to move onward, to slide between her legs and seek the hot center of her femininity. He had drunk too much, trying to keep up with Moore, he told himself; he hadn’t his usual control. But he suspected that even if he had been stone cold sober, he would have been aching for Alexandra. He had wanted her from the moment he met her, and the past few days, since the night she had slept in his bed, he had been driven by desire. He could not get her out of his mind, could not stop wanting her.

But it would be the act of a cad to take her, he knew. Losing her virginity without marriage was the ruin of a woman. He could not be the reason for her reputation being dragged through the mud. He knew Alexandra well enough to know that she would scoff at the idea that he must protect her; she would say that she made her own decisions. But he could not live with himself if he did not protect her in every way he could. She was too dear to him, too—

He paused, struck by a new thought. He wondered why it had not come to him before. Slowly a smile spread across his face. He sat on the bed beside her and gently circled one nipple with his forefinger, watching it harden temptingly. Then he bent to kiss her into wakefulness.

A
LEXANDRA CAME SLOWLY
,
DELICIOUSLY
awake, awash in a sea of pleasure. Her flesh tingled, and there was a melting heat between her legs. Sebastian was kissing her, his lips warm and gentle on hers. Even as she came to a dazed awareness, she was yielding to him, her lips opening beneath his. Was this a dream? It seemed so unreal. Yet at the same time, the pleasure, the warmth, the velvet touch of his lips, were vividly real. Finally, his lips left hers, and he sat up. Alexandra’s eyelashes fluttered open, and she gazed dazedly at him.

He was looking at her as his hand caressed her body, moving over her breasts and down to her stomach, coming at last to rest at the V between her legs. Alexandra drew a quick breath at the intimate touch.

“Sebastian,” she murmured, unable to say anything else.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her, and the sound of his voice, husky with passion, was enough to stir her.

His hand slid up her body to the top of her chemise and untied the drawstring there. He pushed the top down, exposing the creamy orbs of her breasts, his face slack with hunger. Alexandra’s breasts ached for his touch, her nipples thrusting out. He brushed his fingertips over one nipple, teasing and arousing. Alexandra arched toward him, her breath rasping in her throat. With every touch, her desire burned hotter, wilder, more out of control.

Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to hers. Their lips brushed; their breath mingled. For a moment, they held off, anticipating the kiss, until they could stand the exquisite torture no longer. They kissed, their lips grinding into each other’s, their tongues thrusting and twining in a passionate dance. His hands swept over her body, caressing her legs and buttocks and back, coming time and again to cup her breasts.

Sighs turned into moans. Bodies clung and twisted. Legs intertwined. They rolled across the bed, kissing as if they would consume each other, their suppressed hunger of the past days rising like a storm inside them.

With frantic hands, Sebastian pulled her chemise up and over her head. Alexandra worked at the buttons of his shirt, and finally, with a low oath, he ripped the thing off, popping a button and losing a stud in the process. She ran her hands over his bare skin as she had wanted to earlier this evening, then followed the path of her hands with her mouth, tasting his skin and laving it with her tongue, taking the flat masculine nipples into her mouth and bringing them to hardness. He gasped at the pleasure of her questing mouth, his hands knotting in the sheets, struggling to hold on to the control she threatened to destroy.

Finally he rolled over, putting Alexandra on her back, and began to work the same tingling magic on her. His tongue circled her nipple, caressing and lashing it, teasing until she was almost sobbing, then pulling it deep into his mouth and sucking. She groaned as the sensation ran through her, bursting in her loins like molten fire. She was past all thought, a being of pure feeling and desire. His fingers fumbled at the drawstring of her petticoat, and he pulled it from her. His hand delved between her legs, divided from her flesh only by the thin cotton of her undergarments. The cloth was damp from her passion, and he rubbed his fingers over it, delighting in the evidence of her need for him.

But soon he could not stand even that barrier between them, and he rolled them over her hips and off her legs. She lay naked before him, her hair a lush backdrop to the white, glimmering beauty of her body. He stood for a moment, looking at her. His manhood throbbed, hot and thick with desire, pressing against his breeches. He felt as if he might explode, and yet there was still so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to feel and give to her.

Alexandra raised her arms to him, and Sebastian could wait no longer. He fumbled at the buttons of his trousers, peeling them down and kicking them aside, then climbed into bed with her. Alexandra caressed him, taking his turgid member into her hand and stroking it. He let out a muffled groan and buried his face in her neck.

“Come inside me,” Alexandra murmured into his ear, and desire shot through him like lightning.

He could wait no longer. He moved between her welcoming legs and eased inside her, moving gently despite the need that raged in him. Alexandra gasped at the slash of pain as he entered her, and sank her teeth into his shoulder. Sebastian groaned and paused, then began to stroke slowly in and out. Alexandra moved in rhythm with him, the knot of pleasure deep within her growing and tightening until she felt as if she would scream. Then it burst in her like a tidal wave, and she did cry out. Sebastian groaned, thrusting into her in his own paroxysm of pleasure. Together they plunged into the deep, mindless realm of passion, their souls melded together as surely as their bodies, lost for the moment in a pleasure so fierce and so pure that nothing else existed.

Afterward, they lay clinging to each other like survivors of a storm, and just as Alexandra drifted off to sleep, Sebastian heard her breathe something that sounded to him like
love.

A
LEXANDRA’S EYES DRIFTED OPEN
lazily, and she found herself looking at a strange ceiling. She felt sore and incredibly happy and a little strange.

Suddenly she shot upright, her memory returning in a rush. She and Sebastian had made love last night! She looked around the room. There was no evidence of Sebastian’s presence; no remnant of clothing, no boots. It made her feel strangely empty, and she wondered for an instant if what she remembered had been only a dream. But, no, that could not have been something she imagined.

There was a rap at the door, and she jumped, startled.

“Alexandra? Are you up?” It was Sebastian’s voice, and her pulse skittered at the sound of it.

“Yes. Come in.” Alexandra grabbed the sheet that had fallen to her waist and pulled it up, tucking it under her arms.

Sebastian opened the door and stuck his head in cautiously. The look on his face was a trifle uncertain, an oddity that made Alexandra feel even more nervous. What did he feel for her? What had last night meant for him? Alexandra was as certain as she was of her name that she loved him. But what of him? Had last night been love or only a moment’s pleasure?

He pushed the door wider and stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. “I brought your breakfast. Our highwayman is up and tucking into a substantial breakfast. He says we have to hurry to reach the village before the London mail coach arrives.”

Sebastian set the tray on Alexandra’s lap and stepped back awkwardly. Alexandra looked at the food before her, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. Two people who were used to being in command, normally sure of themselves, were tangled in a web of uncertainty, strangely shy and uncomfortable.

The moment he had awakened this morning, Sebastian had been seized with the dread that Alexandra would regret what had happened last night. He had washed and dressed, riddled with the fear that she would reject his proposal of marriage. Last night, a little drunk and in the throes of his desire, it had seemed perfectly sensible to him. He loved her; they would get married; and the slight prematurity of their honeymoon night would not matter. In the cold light of dawn, he was not so certain. Alexandra was an unpredictable woman, opinionated and strong. What if she did not love him? What if she turned him down?

All the way up the stairs with the tray, he had been rehearsing his proposal speech. It had sounded stilted and stupidly formal, even in his mind. Now, looking at Alexandra sitting in the bed, enticingly bare-shouldered, the sheet pulled over her breasts but not quite concealing their thrust and the dark circles of her nipples, he was shaken by desire and an equally strong certainty that she would find his proposal idiotic.

It was the place, he thought. He could not relax in the highwayman’s den, unsure whether the man would turn them loose or take them to the woods and shoot them, robbing their dead bodies. He needed to be alert for any sign of treachery on Moore’s part. Later, when he and Alexandra were alone, free of Moore and his men—that was when he would tell her. The words would come naturally then; he would be able to speak freely, to talk Alexandra out of any doubts she might have.

He gave her a stiff smile and said, “I, uh, I’ll just go downstairs, keep an eye on our friend.”

“All right.” Alexandra’s heart sank. She could see Sebastian’s nervousness; it fairly radiated from him. He regretted what they had done last night; she was certain of it. He was worried that she would expect something from him, some declaration of love or even a marriage proposal.

Tears sprang into her eyes, but she blinked them away and gave him a smile that matched his. “I will be down soon.”

He turned and left with visible relief. Alexandra felt like throwing the tray of food at the door. Instead, she set it aside and got out of bed. She washed and dressed, giving herself a mental lecture all the while. She had not expected Sebastian to love her; she had wanted him and had been willing to assume the risk. She had gotten what she wanted, and now it was over. It was absurd to think that he loved her; she irritated him to death. They were like oil and water. And it was ludicrous to think that he might marry her; she was an American of dubious origin, no match for a British aristocrat. Everyone knew that British aristocrats married to suit their position, not for love.

By the time she was through, she still felt like crying, but at least she had managed to stuff it down where it would not show. That, she told herself, was what was important. She would show Sebastian that she did not expect anything from him, that last night had meant nothing more to her than it had to him.

The ride to the village was a quiet one, broken only now and then by Jack Moore’s chatter. But his irrepressible spirits soon flagged under the leaden weight of Sebastian’s and Alexandra’s stiff silence. He blindfolded them again and led them, though this time they had their own horses. They plodded along for what seemed hours before Moore finally stopped and removed their blindfolds.

After that he no longer had to lead them, and they moved more quickly. Finally Moore pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face the others. “It is less than a mile into the village. I, ah, am not eager to be seen there, so I fear that I shall have to take your mounts away from you.”

“Of course.” Sebastian dismounted and turned to help Alexandra, but she had already scrambled down by herself and stood waiting like a statue. She did not look at him, and his stomach tightened. He was certain that she would scorn his proposal.

Moore looked at them curiously but made no comment about their odd manner this morning. He dismounted and took the reins of their horses.

“Walk in that direction.” He pointed. “Before long you will come to the village. The mail coach will be here in less than an hour. I bid you farewell. I enjoyed your company very much. Perhaps we will meet again.”

“Here.” Sebastian reached into the pocket of his jacket. “Let me give you something for your trouble.” His hand closed on emptiness.

A pearly grin split the highwayman’s tanned face. “Do not worry, my lord.” He turned and leaped lithely into the saddle, reaching into an inner pocket of his coat and pulling out a small leather bag, which he dangled for a moment. “It is already mine.”

With that, he wheeled his horse and took off, the other two mounts clattering after him. Sebastian stared after him, openmouthed. Alexandra began to giggle, and Sebastian shot her a look.

“That blackguard!”

“Well, he never made much pretense that he was anything but a thief.”

“Laugh away,” Sebastian snapped irritably. “I’d like to know how we are going to make it to London now.”

“My pin money.” Alexandra felt a trifle better now that she had laughed. She turned up the hem of her skirt and bent to unpin a folded bill from her petticoat. “I always carry a little something in case of emergency.”

She handed the note to Sebastian, who looked at it and said grimly, “At least we’ll be able to get to London, though scarcely in style. I had planned to take the mail coach to a larger town where I could hire a post chaise. It looks now as if it will be the mail coach for us the whole way.”

A
S IT TURNED OUT
, A
LEXANDRA
was glad they were forced to take the mail coach. Though it was scarcely an easy or elegant ride, and they stopped at seemingly every hamlet they passed through, at least she and Sebastian were not condemned to sit together in strained silence the whole way. Crushed in among the other passengers, their lack of conversation was not noticeable, and the variety of passengers occupied her interest well enough that she did not have to sit sunk in her own gloom. Sebastian, who did not seem to share her interest in their fellow travelers, spent most of the journey gazing out the window or leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed. They did not have to deal with one another except for the times when they debarked at an inn to get a meat pie or a juicy apple to eat.

It amazed Alexandra that it took so long to travel the same amount of distance that they had covered in the balloon in a few hours the day before. She was thoroughly weary when at last the coach pulled into London, and she had also grown rather tired of the constant presence of other people. There was nothing she wanted so much as to shut the door, climb into her own bed and sleep for at least a day.