In the Prince’s Bed by Sabrina Jeffries (25)

Chapter Five

As Alec carried Katherine off to the floor, he reveled in the resentment festering on Lovelace’s face. Too bad, “old chum.” You had your chance. She’s mine now. And for one of those new waltzes, too, which was even better.

Then Katherine faced him, her lovely eyes glinting mutinously. Uh-oh, perhaps his gloating was premature.

She tossed back her pretty head. “I hadn’t realized you were so desperate for female companionship you’d resort to blackmail to gain a dance partner.”

“I merely asked you to dance,” he said, feigning innocence.

“And I asked you to leave me be.” Despite her sharp words, a blush stained her cheeks.

The music started. Deliberately, he drew her into his arms far closer than propriety allowed for the waltz. “You didn’t mean it.”

As she fell into step, anger turned the amber glints in her brown eyes to flames. “You are the most pompous, arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

“Ah, but I’m dancing with you, while your poet friend can only watch.”

No doubt the baronet was getting an eyeful, too. Katherine danced surprisingly well for a country girl, with a natural grace that compensated for any uncertainty about the steps. As she matched his rhythm perfectly, he wondered if she’d do the same in bed. The thought of her rising eagerly to meet his every thrust made him tighten his grip on her hand.

She flashed him an annoyed glance. “Sydney was right about you.”

“Was he? What else did my old school chum tell you about me?”

“That you got away with the most outrageous behavior simply because you were an earl’s son.”

God rot Lovelace’s self-righteousness. Not to mention his selective memory. “Has it occurred to you that your friend Sydney might have his own reasons for not telling you the entire story?”

“Do you deny that your classmates at Harrow called you Alexander the Great because you were allowed to do as you pleased?”

“How do you know it wasn’t because they admired my talents?”

“Sydney says you never studied, never applied yourself, and spent all your time getting into trouble with your friends.”

“While Lovelace spent all his time crying for his mother.”

A direct hit. She paled and dropped her gaze to his cravat. “There’s nothing wrong with a boy…missing his mother.”

“Perhaps not at first. But even in his third term, your Sydney was writing his mother weekly. And receiving packages nearly as often.”

Unerringly she homed in on his resentful tone. “Didn’t your mother send you packages, too?”

He gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t let her,” he lied, as he’d done so often at Harrow. “No boy with a spine wants his mother to coddle him.”

The truth was, the old earl wouldn’t allow it. While Lovelace had feasted on marzipan and fresh apples and the occasional saffron cake from home, Alec had pretended he didn’t care about such nonsense.

“Is that why you dislike Sydney?” The sudden gentleness in her voice grated. “Because he got packages from his mother, and you didn’t?”

“Don’t be absurd. If I dislike Lovelace at all, it’s because he doesn’t appreciate life’s finer things.”

Her bristly expression returned. “Like wine, women, and song?”

“Like you. You deserve better than Lovelace, and we both know it.”

The startled look she shot him, followed by her softly murmured “Oh,” nearly unmanned him. He smoothed his hand from her waist to the tempting curve of her silk-sheathed back. A little lower and he could cup her fetching bottom. That would certainly shock all the matrons…and earn him a well-deserved slap.

He sighed. Wooing a woman had been a damned sight easier in Portugal. For one thing, there was no wooing with the sort of woman he’d known. A man could go straight to the swiving and forget all this dancing and chatter.

But if he wanted a wife, he must play by the rules. No dragging Miss Merivale off to the gallery, where he could lose himself in her honeyed lips again. Ladies preferred compliments. “I like your gown.”

She looked skeptical. “It’s not too red?”

Why would it be too red? “Of course not. It suits the theme of the ball.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Cherry blossoms are white.”

“Cherries are red.” He lowered his voice. “Like your lips.”

An inelegant snort erupted from her. “You must have found that one on page twenty-six.” When he blinked, she added, “Of some…er…book of flatteries.”

“Forgive me for not being as poetic as your precious suitor,” he snapped. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear my honest opinion of your gown.”

“You’re wrong—I much prefer sincerity to flattery.” Eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes, she said, “So what do you really think of it?”

“That it’s the most erotic gown I’ve ever seen.” He swept his hand along the sash at her waist. “I love how it clings to your breasts and your—”

“That’s enough.” She blushed furiously. “You mustn’t say such things.”

“You told me to be honest.”

“But not…I mean…” Sheer desperation shone in her eyes. “I’m sure this is all great fun to you, but it’s my life. I can’t have you mucking it up for your own entertainment.”

Anger flared in his chest. “You think I’m toying with you?”

“I know you take a perverse pleasure in taunting Sydney, but you don’t understand how difficult your mischief makes things for me.”

“Your jealous poet friend may have told you about my boyhood exploits, but he knows nothing of me as a man except gossip. I don’t get my ‘entertainment’ from toying with innocents.”

“Then what reason do you have for continually thrusting yourself into my presence?”

“The same reason any man has for pursuing a woman. Courtship.”

Her burst of laughter annoyed him. “You must be joking.”

“Absolutely not.” He bent close to her ear. “Perhaps I should take you back out on the gallery and remind you how sincere I am.”

With a frown, she jerked back. “About kissing, yes. But that’s not the same thing. Your sort is always sincere about kissing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort is that?”

“You know—men of the world.”

“Even men of the world have to get married sometime,” he said irritably.

“Yes, but not to poor squires’ daughters with country manners. Especially when you possess a title as old and venerable as England itself.”

“What other reason could I have for pursuing you?”

“Don’t assume that because I’m a country girl I’m naive. I know very well that men like you only find amusement in the chase. But once you catch the hare, you’re done. While the hare is stewing in the pot.”

Her determination to think badly of him aggravated him more by the moment. He tugged her closer in the turn. “Somehow I can’t see you as a hare, Katherine.”

With a deft maneuver, she slipped back to restore the distance between them. “That’s because I don’t intend to be one. Ever.”

Blast, she had her defenses up higher than Portugal’s Mount Peneda. He should never have kissed her on the gallery—it had only added to her false impression of him. But how could he have resisted such an invitation?

Unfortunately, only the truth about how he’d lived abroad would change her mind about him, and that would also rouse questions he must avoid. It might even lead to questions about his current finances. If she even believed any explanation he gave her about what he’d done in Portugal.

No, better to let her get to know his character—then she’d discover that her impressions were wrong. But would that be enough? “Does your cynicism have anything to do with your father and his ‘mission to debauch everything in skirts’?”

She blushed crimson. “My goodness, did you hear my entire conversation with Sydney out there?”

“Enough to know that you let your father influence your opinion of men too much. Just because your only example of a man happened to be a debaucher—”

“I had ample examples of good men growing up, I assure you. My grandfather lived with us until his death six years ago, and he was fine and moral.”

“Like Sydney.”

“Yes. And like Sydney’s father. Whenever I visited the Lovelace estate, I saw how decent, upstanding people live—who respect each other and behave with courtesy and consideration instead of—” She broke off. “I decided then that I’d never let my…attraction to a man tempt me into doing anything I’d regret.”

“Should I be flattered that you broke your rules for me on the gallery?”

She tipped up her chin. “It was an experiment, nothing more—to remind me that my decision about Sydney was wise. But I’m done with that particular experiment. For good.”

Damn. She’d already tried and convicted him without a hearing. If he didn’t do something quickly, she would avoid his company in future. And then how would he convince her of his true character?

Especially when she compared him to her precious Sir Perfect Poet, with his irreproachable manners. Alec glanced over to where Lovelace stood, ignoring Mrs. Merivale’s incessant chatter to glare at him.

Time to switch courses. Lovelace had asked for two weeks—plenty of time for Alec to pursue an alternate plan for securing her. “You’re missing a prime opportunity, you know.”

She eyed him askance. “To let you catch me and stick me in your stewpot?”

“No, to force Lovelace into a position where he has to offer for you.”

Her hand tightened convulsively on his. “What do you mean?”

“Jealousy is a powerful emotion, sweetheart. Perhaps if your Sydney thinks he’s losing you, he’ll finally come up to snuff.”

“Or think I’m a shameless flirt not worth marrying.”

“Playing the long-suffering friend hasn’t worked, has it? You’re still waiting for him to make a formal offer.”

That sensual lower lip of hers trembled. “He says he’ll do it soon.”

“In two weeks. And only because you insisted. Do you really believe he’ll forget years of catering to his mother because of some arbitrary deadline? No, he won’t act unless he thinks he has to. So you must convince him that he does.”

“By making him jealous.”

“Exactly.”

“I can only guess how you propose to do that,” she retorted.

“It’s simple, really—I flirt with you publicly until Lovelace’s jealousy drives him to offer for you.”

Her pretty eyebrows quirked up. “What do you get out of this, I wonder?”

Marriage, I hope. “You said men like me enjoy the thrill of the chase. Well…” He caressed her waist. “I get to chase you.”

A spark of fear leaped in her eyes. Good. At least she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “But if the idea of my chasing you worries you, then it probably wouldn’t work. You’d fall madly in love with me and end up with a broken heart.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Of course, I’m taking a risk, too.” Like the possibility that Lovelace would crack under the pressure and offer for her before Alec could secure her. “I might fall madly for you, and then you’d run off with Lovelace and break my heart.”

She sniffed. “Right. Directly after you give all your goods to the poor and become a lowly rector in the country.”

His eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve got my ‘sort’ so neatly figured out, you shouldn’t have any trouble resisting me. Knowledge is the best defense.”

As they moved through the steps of the waltz, she frowned. Thank God he excelled at anything that required good balance, coordination, and sense of timing. Otherwise, he would have trod on her skirts a dozen times by now while trying to read her thoughts.

“There would have to be rules,” she said at last.

He suppressed a triumphant smile. “Of course.”

“You can’t kiss me, for one thing.”

Blast it. “What enjoyment can I find in that? I said I wanted to chase you, not trail behind you like your pet pony.” He swept her close. “Besides, if you’re wise to my ‘sort,’ what can a few kisses hurt?”

“No kissing,” she repeated stubbornly. “Or no deal.”

He considered refusing, but then she’d simply rebuff his attempts at courtship. Besides, she might protest his kisses in a well-lit, noisy ballroom, but when he had her alone in the dark…

He smothered a grin. He could work around her rules. And there were more ways to entice a woman than by kissing her. She had set the bar a little higher, but he could handle the jumps. “All right.” When she smiled, he added, “But I have rules of my own.”

Her smile faltered. “You don’t get to have rules.”

“I’m doing you a favor, remember? And I just agreed to take half the fun out of it by not kissing you.”

She grimaced. “So what are your rules, my lord?”

Her formality made him stiffen. “The first is that you not call me ‘my lord’ when we’re alone.”

“You don’t take any of the proprieties seriously, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.” To prove it, he slipped his hand up beneath the gold sash around her waist and caressed the smooth silk beneath, delighting when she blushed prettily. He loved women who blushed. There seemed so few of them left. “I’d rather you called me Alec in private.”

“All right…Alec.”

Hearing her use his Christian name made him want to drag her out into the bushes and behave exactly like the “sort” of man she thought him to be.

Too bad he was a gentleman. “The second rule is that you inform me of all your plans. If you accept an invitation to a ball, then I should know about it, so I can show up to pursue you.” He dragged his thumb over her silk-sheathed ribs.

“Th-that sounds fair,” she said in a breathy little whisper that turned his blood to molten heat.

He pressed his advantage. “I expect complete honesty from you—no seeing Lovelace behind my back.” When she scowled, he added, “You mustn’t fall into old habits. If I’m not around, you might revert to the role of patient friend, and he’ll return to his former complacency. Then you’ll be back where you started.”

“I begin to think I shouldn’t have left where I started,” she grumbled.

“Standing on a gallery unkissed and unbetrothed?”

She glared at him.

“And one more thing—when you’re with me, you can’t discuss Lovelace beyond planning our next encounter with him. I want no dreamy accounts of your first meeting and no whining about how he doesn’t appreciate your undying love.” He added dryly, “We both know there will be no gushing about your first kiss.”

Color suffused her cheeks. “First of all, I do not whine or gush. Secondly, why do you care if I talk about Sydney?”

“Because I’m supposed to get some enjoyment from this game, remember? And I won’t get it from listening to a woman prattle on about another man.”

She looked insulted. “I don’t prattle, either.”

“Excellent, then we’ll deal together nicely. If you agree to my terms.”

“I hardly see why I should refrain from talking about Sydney—”

“No talking about Sydney. Or no deal.” He glanced over to where Katherine’s mother was now regaling Lovelace with some tale that had the baronet looking frantic to escape. “Ah, look at your suitor and your mother. They get on so well, don’t you think? Perhaps you won’t need my help after all.”

As Mrs. Merivale’s grating laugh sounded clear across the ballroom, Katherine groaned. “Whoever dictated that young ladies need chaperones never knew Mama. She would drive even the most determined suitor away.”

He’d feel sorry for her if her mother weren’t playing so well into his plans. “So?” he pressed his point. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”

She cast him a grimly determined smile. “When do we start, my lord?”

*   *   *

An hour later, Katherine was already having second thoughts about Alec’s plan. Especially since Sydney’s response to Alec’s attentions was to disappear into the card room. He hadn’t even seen her accept Alec’s second invitation to dance. And although that reel was ending and Alec was leading her from the floor, she still saw no sign of Sydney.

“Now we’ve run him off entirely,” she muttered, as they squeezed past a clump of chattering girls and their chaperones.

Alec shot her an enigmatic glance. “You’re not giving up already, are you? No race was ever won by a rider who accepted defeat fresh out of the gate. Stay the course and give him time. He’ll come round.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then he’s an idiot, and you’re better off without him.”

“You don’t understand—Sydney isn’t like other men.” She scanned the room, annoyed to find that neither Sydney nor her mother was anywhere in sight. “He’s liable to see my flirtation with you either as a betrayal or as evidence of my vulgarity.”

“You aren’t vulgar,” he snapped. “Don’t ever let him say you are.”

The edge to his tone took her by surprise. She glanced up to see him staring grimly ahead, his jaw taut with anger.

“Why do you care?” she asked softly.

His eyes met hers, vividly blue. “My father used to call my mother that. ‘You’re a vulgar little Cit,’ he’d say, and she would bow her head and acknowledge the insult. As if she deserved it simply because she’d once—” He broke off, jerking his gaze away. “She didn’t deserve it. And neither do you.”

That glimpse into Alec’s past intrigued her. “I thought perhaps you and your mother didn’t get along. The gossips say you didn’t even return to England when she fell ill. I understand she lingered for some time.”

His face grew shuttered. “There was a war on, and the family had trouble…reaching me. I didn’t receive word of her illness until long after her death. By then, there was no point.”

“I see.” But she didn’t really. As much as she cringed at her mother’s raucous laugh or crass musings about what everything cost, she couldn’t imagine losing touch with her so entirely that months of an illness could go by without her knowing. Or not coming to the family’s aid even after her mother’s death.

Then again, if Alec’s father had been as awful as he sounded…Oh, why did she care? Alec was only a means to an end.

“Speaking of mothers,” Alec remarked, “perhaps yours is in the refreshments room. We should look there.”

She nodded and let him lead her under the cherry blossom arch into the other room. A blossom fell onto her gloved hand that lay on his arm. It clung there until he reached over and flicked it off. Then covered her hand with his.

She suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Painfully conscious of his warm hand atop hers, she searched the room, but Mama wasn’t there, either. “Knowing my mother, she deliberately disappeared when she saw the dance ending. That way you couldn’t bring me to her, and you’d be forced to spend more time in my company.”

“What a sacrifice,” he teased. “I see that your mother and I will be fast friends.”

“You say that now because you don’t know her. She’s always doing things like this. I have half a mind to march off in search of her by myself.”

“But you won’t because…”

“It’s not proper.” She sighed. “Although that’s a foolish rule if I ever heard one. What harm is there in a woman’s traversing a ballroom alone?”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t take the proprieties seriously.”

“I do take them seriously. I merely wish I didn’t have to.”

He bent his head to whisper, “You don’t. Not with me.”

A frisson of anticipation shook her to her toes. Fighting to ignore it, she cast him a stern glance. “I can well imagine which proprieties you’d like me to ignore.”

“I doubt that.” His hand stroked hers with an intimacy that violated every rule of propriety. “But if you want to take a stroll in the garden, I’ll show you.”

She firmly removed his hand from hers before he melted her resolve entirely. “I’ve had quite enough lessons of that sort for one night, thank you.” Sweeping her gaze about the room, she nearly collapsed with relief to see Mama and Sydney enter from the card room.

“Ah, look, there they both are,” she said brightly.

“You see?” Alec rumbled. “You had nothing to worry about. Lovelace didn’t abandon you after all.”

“Actually, he’d already asked me to dance the last with him so he could take me in to supper. And Sydney is nothing if not conscious of his obligations.”

“All except one.” Alec slanted her a glance. “Would it matter so much if he didn’t come up to snuff? If you ask me, you don’t seem to suit.”

“Why, because he won’t kiss me? That will change once we’re married.”

Alec slowed his pace. “In my experience, marriage doesn’t change a man. It merely throws his bad qualities into high relief.”

“Really?” she said tartly. “So you’ve been married, have you?”

A reluctant smile touched his lips. “No. But I watched my father, who was not very…affectionate. His example has stayed with me.”

“As my father’s has with me. Believe me, indiscriminate affection can be every bit as damaging as none at all.”

“So you’ve decided on a man who will give you the latter.”

“I’ve decided on a man who can be my friend. Friendship will last long after the other is gone.”

“Sounds dull to me,” he retorted.

Sydney and Mama had spotted them, and Mama was waving in a most unladylike manner. Katherine winced. “That’s because you’re the one engaging in the wild revelries, not the one dealing with the aftermath. You’re not the one living amidst the jealous rages and embarrassing village gossip about Squire Merivale’s latest indiscretions. It’s a good thing you never did marry. At least you’ve spared some hapless woman such a life.”

Without warning, he tugged her out of sight behind a pillar and turned her to face him, his eyes glittering. “Let’s settle one thing. No matter what you’ve heard about me, I did not spend my time abroad lurching from woman to woman in reckless abandon.”

“Then how did you spend it?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Keeping busy, that’s all. There’s plenty to do abroad when a man has all the time in the world to do it.”

She snorted. “Oh yes, I’m sure you enjoy touring cathedrals and museums.”

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he sighed. “Actually, I spent much of it on horseback.” He shot her an enigmatic glance. “Tell me, Katherine, do you ride?”