Page 52 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“And it just so happens that I agree with you. Digging up the dead for study is one thing. Doing so for entertainment is something else entirely.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Indeed. I attended an unwrapping once. Honestly, I was supposed to remain in a separate room with my siblings, but we snuck a peek over the edge of the stairwell.” She grimaced at the memory. “The guests broke off pieces and passed them around. I kept wondering who the Egyptian had been. If they’d had a family who cared for them thousands of yearsago, or even descendants now who had no notion that their ancestor had been taken to England.”
Though she referred to one who’d lived millennia ago, Drake couldn’t help thinking of the ways his own family had failed at caring for one another. That he didn’t even know who his own father was.
Alexandra stepped closer. “I’m sorry if I’ve mucked matters up for you with Sir Felix.”
“You needn’t worry about that.” The man might be standing in a house but a few feet away from him, but he was the very furthest thing from Drake’s mind.
“Why wouldn’t I worry? He’s your superior, is he not?” She moved closer and curled her fingers around the lapel of his tailcoat. “And you’re ambitious, are you not?”
In that moment, Drake struggled to find the growling hunger that usually resided in his middle when he thought of his future, his achievements, his yearning for more. All he found was complete and utter focus on Alexandra. She was quite appealing enough to occupy him entirely, and a shocking thought drifted through his mind.
She matters far more than any title.
“Haverstock will get past whatever momentary offense he felt, I’m sure.”
“I’m not so certain.” She cast a doubtful glance back toward the Wellingdon townhouse. “And since you mentioned that we are acquainted, he may take his anger toward me out on you.”
She couldn’t know of Haverstock’s pettiness orhow he wielded his power, and yet she’d somehow sensed it.
“The man needs me too much to do that.”
“And Miss Haverstock would no doubt defend you.” Alexandra hitched one brow up in question.
He chuckled, and she frowned fiercely. Adorably.
He slid a hand down to cup her chin.
“Hear me on this point. I did not escort Lavinia Haverstock this evening. I am not courting Lavinia Haverstock, and I promise you that she would never defend me to her father on any score. We’re not...”
Intimatewas the word on the tip of his tongue. And he meant it in contrast to whatever this was. He’d known Alexandra but a few days and yet the connection between them was palpable. Strong. Intimate.
“You’re not...?” she prompted.
He slid a hand gently around her nape, savoring the silken feel of her hair, the heat of her skin. He wasn’t yet sure he could put into words what he felt, but he could show her.
She tipped her head up, and he took her mouth in a soft kiss. He’d meant it to be no more than that. Convinced himself he could taste her once more and be gentlemanly about it. But there was nothing gentlemanly about his feelings for Alexandra. They were new and raw and undeniable. Powerful enough to chip at the cool stoicism he thought he’d perfected.
And the wonder of it was that she seemed to feel it too. She leaned into him, pulling him closerby his lapels, fitting her lush curves against him. Then her other hand came up as she wrapped her fingers around his neck, stroking his hair and sending a shock of pleasure straight to his groin.
He deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue against the seam of her lips, and she offered him heaven. A deep, drugging taste of her, and he realized his control wasn’t just slipping, it had crumbled entirely.
To get her closer, he lifted her off her feet, one hand cupping the sweet swell of her backside.
The kiss flared into more—a wild exploration. Her fingernails traced against his skull and that stroke made him so hard he ached. He pulled her closer, slid a hand down, trying to gather the skirt of her gown. She emitted little moans of pleasure as he stroked his tongue against hers.
“Allie?” Lady Josephine’s voice came from far away.
Or perhaps it only seemed that way because he had fallen under some spell. But Alexandra had too. Even after the lady’s call, even after he’d set her down gently, they held on to each other, leaning their foreheads together, trying to catch their breath.
“Allie? Is everything all right?” the Wellingdons’ eldest called again.
“Quite all right,” Alexandra called back, though she made no move to leave his embrace or step out from behind the hedge.
At the sound of footsteps on the veranda paving stones, they finally pulled away from each other, and Alexander swept her hands down her skirt and strode out into view of the house.
“I’m all right, Jo.”
