Love's Guardian (24 page)

Lord Duprey nodded and stood. At the entrance to the path, he turned and struggled to speak. At last a hoarse whisper rattled from his chest. “You haven’t heard the last of this. I’m going to enjoy seeing you brought to your knees, Worthington.”

“If you think
you’re
going to do it, you’ll be waiting forever.” Declan adjusted his cuffs and straightened his coat.

Lord Duprey gave them a venomous look and left.

“You shouldn’t have come out here alone.” Declan came to stand beside her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She slipped her knife back into the sheath in her pocket and bent down to retrieve her domino. “I think I can safely remove Lord Duprey from my list.” She smiled up at his darkly masked face. “I didn’t like the way he kissed, anyway.”

“Are you such an authority?”

“I know what I like.”

Declan reached out and traced her lips with his index finger. “And what do you like?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Why not? I could help. You need to consider everything when you chose a husband. For instance, I doubt you’d get much kissing from Lord Holdon.”

“What makes you say that?” She thought of kissing the balding older man and felt slightly repulsed.

“He’s too old for you, Lady Lochsdale.”

“Perhaps, but what about Lord Brighton? He’s young and pleasing to look at.”

Declan shrugged. “I’ve heard it said he prefers boys.”

Her face grew warm. Long ago she’d overheard Paddy talking to one of the boys who wanted to hire on the
White Falcon
. Paddy advised against it, telling him the captain used his cabin boys as he would a woman.

“And what’s wrong with Lord Avery?”

“Nothing yet. Except he needs your money.”

“They all need my estates. That’s why I chose them.”

“I’m not letting you marry someone who can’t provide for you.”

“I can provide for myself.”

“What about love?”

“You are the last person to talk about love. I’m surprised you even know the emotion exists.”

“My decision stands, Alex. I’m not going to let you marry any of the four.” He reached out and took her arm, his voice softening. “I’m just asking you to wait until someone more appropriate comes along.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “And who’s going to tell Luther to wait?” This was pointless. She turned away and headed toward the path.

“Alexandra, come back here.”

She ignored him and started to run back toward the manor, favoring her aching ankle. If Declan thought he could protect her, he didn’t know Luther.

“What might you have done to upset all the women?” Morgan’s voice was muffled as he faced the library bookshelves.

“Nothing.” Declan grabbed the crystal decanter of cognac and a glass, then fell into a chair across from the fireplace. He filled his snifter, and set the decanter on a table nearby. “Lady Lochsdale is just being unreasonable.”

He raised the glass to his lips and let the fiery liquid poor down his throat. It seemed like a soothing balm compared to the last few hours.

He attempted to swirl the remaining spirits in the snifter, but the contents refused to stay in the glass. The amber liquid sprayed in all directions. Was he foxed? Not bloody likely. He must just be more tired than he realized.

After all, Morgan was still sober, and he had matched him drink for drink. Or did Morgan just
appear
sober?

They’d left the masquerade shortly after the interlude in the garden. No one spoke on the return trip, which was fine with Declan. The women acted like he was an ingrate and immediately retired to their chambers, so he and Morgan had sequestered themselves in the library with his favorite cognac.

How had his life become such a muddle? Why couldn’t Alex just do as she was told?

He’d complained about the foolishness of women until Morgan reached over and took the drink out of his hand. “I’m thinking you’ve had enough.”

He reached for his glass. “Had enough for what?”

Morgan kept it away from him and poured the last of its contents on the fire. The flames flared briefly, sending sparks up the chimney. Morgan put their glasses on a marble-topped table, then leaned against the mantle, studying his friend. “Lady Lochsdale looked beautiful tonight.”

“I noticed.” Hell, he couldn’t help but notice. Every man in the room had watched her. By the look on their faces, they were mentally trying to remove the transparent layers of her costume. He should never have let her go out looking like that.

Morgan crossed to a chair next to his, and sat down. “Lady Lochsdale told me you were having a bit of trouble with Lord Duprey.”

Declan sank back into the leather cushion of his chair. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He closed his eyes, but the sight of Alex in that pool was indelibly etched on his eyelids. He opened them again and tried to focus on Morgan.

“She also mentioned you’d not been pleased with her choice of a husband, and, in fact, turned down all of her possible suitors.” Morgan raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“I can protect her until she finds someone suitable. None of them deserve her. She’ll eventually come to see that.”

“You’d not be in love with her, would you?”

“Of course not.” Declan gazed into the fire. He had never loved any woman, and he wasn’t about to start now. Alex said he didn’t know love existed. She was wrong. He knew it existed. That was the problem.

“Might there be a possibility you
could
fall in love with her?”

“Never.” He tried to give Morgan a look of assurance.

“Well then, I’m thinking I’ve solved your problem.” Morgan had the look of a man who’d come up with the best idea since the invention of the carriage. “It’s you who should be marrying Lady Lochsdale.”

“What!” He shook his head. His friend had gone mad. “That’s the most ridiculous idea you’ve come up with yet.”

“Why?”

“Because, because...” He couldn’t tell Morgan that he was afraid he’d come to love Alex. He’d just admitted he wouldn’t. And he did have a choice, didn’t he? Just because he wanted her desperately didn’t mean he couldn’t keep her at an emotional distance. As a matter-of-fact, once his body got what it craved, he could treat her like any other woman.

“Exactly,” Morgan said, as if reading his mind. “I’m thinking it’s the perfect solution. You get your heir with no strings, and Lady Lochsdale would be out Addington’s reach for good.” He studied him for a moment, then added, “She might be wanting to go back to her estates, once she’s given you a son.”

“After that,” Declan said with a shrug, “she can do as she pleases.” It made sense, and best of all, she’d be his wife. His body fairly sang for joy. He got to his feet, not wanting to waste one more minute.

“Where might you be going?”

“I’ve got to tell her.”

“I’ll be letting myself out.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard Morgan chuckling as he left.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t. I honor my contracts.” Declan walked over and captured a curl that lay on her bare shoulder. He appeared fascinated by it, twining the strands around his index finger. “It won’t be so bad, Alex. This may surprise you, but most women find me attractive.” He smiled at her, humor and warmth in his eyes.

The smile was her undoing. She wanted to see his smile, every day, for the rest of her life. She reached up and traced his mouth with her fingertip. He captured her hand and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm.

“All right, I’ll marry you.” This moment should be filled with joy, but all she felt was foreboding. What if she couldn’t make him love her?

A scraping noise in the hallway drew their attention to her bedroom door. Declan had left it ajar.

He motioned for her to be silent, picked up the lamp, and went out into the hall, then returned a few moments later. “No one’s there. It must have been a tree branch on the hall window.”

Declan closed the door and turned to look at her. “You’re beautiful in the lamplight.”

His devilish grin made her quiver inside.

“I think you should always wear a sheet.”

She wanted to be beautiful. Every female they’d met had flirted with him, but now he was going to be hers. He may not love her, but at least she’d be part of his life.

He was still dressed for the masquerade, but his cravat hung loose and slightly off center. His hair brushed his shoulders, giving him a slightly wicked look. Even in disarray, he’d never been more handsome.

Somehow, she had to find a way to unlock the love he guarded so jealously.

He placed the lamp on the table and slowly walked toward her. His blue eyes seemed to be lit from within by an intensity she didn’t understand. “I’ve wanted you since that first day you challenged me in the library.”

Without breaking eye contact, he advanced. She toyed with the idea of asking him to leave, but she knew he wouldn’t. She wasn’t even sure she wanted him to.

With some difficulty, she tucked her sheet into a makeshift knot above her breasts, keeping one hand on the tenuous closure. She’d meant to back away, but her feet stayed anchored to the floor, waiting for what her heart told her was inevitable.

When he stopped in front of her, he stood so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest. She lifted her head. The cleft in his chin added character and strengthened what would otherwise have been a beautiful face. She watched in fascination as he lowered his head.

His lips brushed against hers, causing her whole body to tingle. “Please don’t deny me,” he whispered into her mouth before claiming it in a kiss that made her long for... something. She lifted her arms to his shoulders, wishing she could feel the warmth of his skin instead of velvet.

As if he knew her thoughts, he backed away. His hungry gaze never left hers as he removed his coat, then untied his cravat and leisurely lifted the white shirt up over his head.

She felt as if she’d been turned to stone. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He moved close to her, and she was amazed to find her arms worked. Of their own accord, they reached out to him. Her hands glided up his chest, feeling the individual muscle ridges.

He groaned and drew her against the length of him. Finding her mouth again, he kissed her. His tongue teased her lips, demanding entry. She let him have his way and was startled by the feelings he evoked as his tongue explored her mouth. He tasted of spirits, the warmth of him settling into her soul.

Tangling his hands in her hair, he leaned his forehead against hers. “God, Alex, you taste wonderful.”

Declan released her hair and backed away. She wanted to cry out in frustration, until she realized he intended to remove his breeches.

His hand on the buttons, he gazed at her, a challenge in his gaze. She could tell him to stop now, or suffer the consequences.

She’d lived her life acting first and thinking later. This was most assuredly not the time to think.

“Go on.” She crossed her arms and waited. Declan undid the buttons and bent down to remove his breeches. He was moving too slowly. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he stood up. When she got her first good look at him, the breath left her body.