Page 25 of The Rakehell's Seduction
“Surrendered to?” Alex was listening raptly to her cousin, her heart beating fast and hard.
“Love is just that, surrendering, not fighting. When you want to be with someone, you must give up part of yourself forever to that other person and he to you. It’s a fair exchange of hearts and souls.”
“You and Randolph truly knew that early that you were meant to be?”
“Yes, we knew, but it wasn’t something I could explain. There was no divine lightning or choir of angels heralding it as our destiny. It came softly, almost slowly, a need to see each other, to hear each other speak, to whisper in the dark and to dance. Lust came first, as it often does, but even lust tempers over time, and when it does, you’re left with the sweetest, most tender passion of all. The passion of the heart.”
Alex’s throat constricted and she tried to swallow. Thinking of that sort of love, something so powerful, so all-encompassing, was strangely frightening, and yet she wanted it, wanted it so much it brought tears to her eyes.
Was Rachel right? Was Ambrose smitten with her? Alex was too afraid to hope that she was right. As much as Alex didn’t want to admit it, she liked Ambrose,morethan liked him, and realizing that made her feel weak and vulnerable. It was so much safer not to fall in love, and she feared she was already falling. There might be no going back from where she was. What if it happened all over again? What if she opened her heart to him, let him inside that vulnerable spot, and he wounded her? Could she survive another blow to her heart?
“Dinner should be ready,” her father announced. “Rachel, I’ve had the footman set up two places for the children.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” Rachel smiled with delight and gave Alex’s hand a gentle squeeze in silent support.
Everyone walked toward the dining room, Rachel and her husband going first to see to the children. Ambrose sidled up behind Alex. She was intimately aware of his body heat, and the feel of him so close made her dizzy.
“The children are to dine with us?” he asked in a low whisper, close enough that it stirred the fine hairs behind her left ear, making her shiver. She didn’t miss the note of surprise in his voice.
She turned her head to reply and blinked at how close they were. He placed a hand on her lower back as they exited the drawing room. Her gown was not particularly thin, but the heat of his palm seemed to sink through the layers of fabric with a delicious burn.
“I know it’s unusual, but Papa loves the children. The idea of shutting them away in a dusty old nursery offends him.”
“Ah.” Ambrose’s lips twitched. “Such a soft heart, your father.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed, smiling back, but another twinge of pain hit her at the thought of how sad her father must be to have no grandbabies of his own. She was an only child, and she’d failed to give him that one great joy. Had she been too selfish all these years in hiding away? It was entirely possible she might have found a decent man to marry, one who would love her and tolerate her bluestocking tendencies and her love of the country, but there would be no passion. She couldn’t fathom being married to someone and not feeling that wild desperation that made her heart sing and her skin flush. As always, though, she questioned whether she was falling into a trap where only lust drove her and not love.
But I haven’t lusted after anyone since Marshall…except for Ambrose.
“Alex?” Ambrose whispered, studying her face closely. More than ever, in that moment she wanted to lean into him and take comfort in being in his arms. That was one of the many dangerous things about Ambrose—he made herlongfor him. Even in such a simple way as to be held and comforted.
“It’s nothing,” she lied, forcing a bright smile upon her face and stepping away from him as they entered the dining room.
The footmen were seating Emma and Griffin between their parents. The little girl was daintily folding her linen napkin on her lap, watching her mother closely. Griffin, however, was bouncing up and down in his seat, making littlewhooshnoises, which amused Randolph even as he tried to shush the boy.
“This should be most entertaining,” Ambrose chuckled as he led Alex to a seat opposite her cousin and pulled back her chair. She murmured a polite thanks and then tensed as he sat down beside her. It was so strange to have him here at an intimate family dinner, yet as the courses were served and conversation began, Ambrose simply fit into her family as though he’d always been a part of it. Her chest was filled with a fuzzy warmth that made her unable to stop smiling.
“So, Worthing, you spend much of your time in London?” Randolph asked.
“Yes, I like the liveliness of the city.” He paused, then glanced Alex. “But the country is proving to have its charms.”
Randolph smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. “That it does. A man never realizes how full life is in the country until he’s happily settled down in a nice house with a garden and acreage to go shooting in. Nothing compares to it.”
“I quite agree. There’s a peacefulness here that I hadn’t thought I’d enjoy so much. The gardens are quite pleasant.” His lips twitched as he sipped his wine from his crystal goblet.
A heavy blush stole over Alex’s face as she knew what he was referring to. Their garden tryst during the picnic and how they’d both been carried away. It had indeed been very pleasant—more than pleasant.
Suddenly Griffin used his spoon to fling a giant spoonful of peas straight across the table at Alex and Ambrose. The little green projectiles sprayed wide, plinking into water glasses and bouncing off their clothes.
For a second no one spoke or reacted, except for one of the young footmen hiding in the corner who stifled a chuckle behind a gloved hand. He hastily recovered himself and straightened, his eyes focused straight ahead.
“Griffin! You eat peas, you do not toss them at family members!” Rachel chastised sharply, looking completely horrified at her son’s wayward behavior. “Mr. Worthing, please accept my apologies —”
Griffin’s bottom lip began to quiver as his mother scowled darkly at him with motherly vengeance gleaming in her eyes.
“Nonsense.” Ambrose burst out laughing. “The little fellow has quite good aim.” He winked at the little boy.Seeing Ambrose’s conspiratorial wink, the boy brightened, even under his mother’s now -embarrassed glare.
“Randolph, dear, I think it might be time to put the children to bed. They can finish their supper in the nursery.” Rachel shot her husband a determined look.
