Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (22 page)

Wrexham watched the war of emotions on her face and couldn't help but be reminded that she was alone in the world, with no wealth or position to protect her from harm—nothing but her own courage and determination.

His tone softened considerably. "That is quite acceptable."

She was standing close, close enough for him to see how the candlelight refracted off the smoky green of her eyes. He drew in an involuntary breath as she lifted her head and spoke again.

"Perhaps you are right, sir," she said in a near whisper. "Perhaps I must give up this plan if it means I must become a burden to others. I—" Her voice caught as a single tear spilled down her cheek. She angrily brushed it away. "Oh, damnation."

The muttered oath caused Wrexham to smile. He took a step closer to her and his long fingers came up to brush away another errant drop. "You cannot face every adversity in life alone, Mrs. Proctor. There is no shame in allowing friends to help you. I am only trying to point out to you how many pitfalls—and dangers—there are to this plan."

Allegra made to speak again but as her mouth opened, the earl's lips came down upon hers.

The initial shock caused her to go rigid, but as his kiss deepened, she made a soft sound and melted against his broad chest. As his arms tightened around her waist, her arms were suddenly, of their own accord, around his neck, her fingers reveling in the silky feel of his long, raven locks.

"Allegra," he murmured against her throat, pressing a string of kisses along the line of her jaw before taken possession of her mouth once again. This time her lips parted wide for him and he tasted the lingering sweetness of herbs as his tongue slid deep inside. Hesitantly her own tongue came up to meet his and its gossamer touch caused the last shreds of the earl's rigid self-control to unravel.

He hand came up to touch her breast. He felt the nipple harden through the thin fabric of her dress and the thought that she was responding to his touch fanned the flames of his desire even higher. He pulled her even closer, molding their bodies together.

"Leo," she cried softly. "Oh, Leo." Her fingers twisted in his hair.

Wrexham took two quick steps forward, pushing her right up against his massive oak desk. His hands lifted her onto the polished wood. Then he stepped between her legs, pressing up against her most intimately. The logs on the fire hissed and crackled, echoing the rising heat between them.

As their mouths met in another deep embrace, he pulled at her skirts, hiking them up above her knees. The shapely legs in their demure stockings and garters nearly took his breath away.

"Dear God," he murmured as his palm ran up the inside of her thigh.

Allegra's nails dug into his muscled back. "Leo?" she whispered. "What is happening? I... I have never felt like this before."

He gave a low groan. "I'm not sure I have either." Then his hand began to reach down for the fastenings of his breeches....

"Father? Are you down there in the library?"

Wrexham wrenched his lids open. "Dear God in Heaven."

Max's footsteps sounded on the stairs.

With desperate haste, he set Allegra on her feet and stepped away to straighten his coat and the disarray of his shirtfront and cravat. She shook out her skirts and sought to rearrange the front of her dress. His fingers raked through his disheveled hair. She sought to fix the worst of the slipped hairpins. As the door swung open, the earl managed to take up a position by the fireplace while Allegra made a show of studying one of the books around on the other side of the desk.

"Father," said Max. "I was wondering if—oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were here, Mrs. Proctor." He looked back at his father's rigid face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not," snapped Wrexham. "That is, we were merely discussing... upcoming strategy. "

"Oh." Max frowned slightly. "It's rather warm in here, don't you think? Perhaps you should bank the fire a bit."

Taking up a poker, the earl jabbed at the logs with a tad more force than necessary.

"Have you decided on any course of action?" demanded Max. "It's not fair if you keep anything hidden from me."

"Nothing has been resolved," said the earl in a tight voice.

Allegra took up a slim leatherbound volume, then cleared her throat. "If you will excuse me, my lord, I believe there is nothing further for us to discuss tonight. As you said, we must be off at dawn so I think I shall leave you two and retire."

Wrexham's head jerked around but her face was in shadow and he couldn't discern her expression.

"Good night, Max." There was the barest of hesitations. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, Mrs. Proctor." The earl managed to choke out the words, hoping his voice had some semblance of its normal tone.

The door closed quietly behind her.

"Are you sure the two of you haven't quarreled?" asked Max with some concern as he approached the fire.

"We have not quarreled." Wrexham retreated to the sideboard. He poured himself a fresh brandy and was shocked to see the decanter shook ever so slightly in his hand.

Bloody Hell.

"What sort of strategy were you discussing? Maybe I could—what happened to your neck?"

His hand flew to cover a red mark just above the collar of his shirt. "Nothing—I must have scraped myself shaving." Then he threw back the contents of the glass in one swallow and turned to refill it. "Damnation, Max." He was perilously close to shouting. "I simply am in no mood for further questions tonight. Tomorrow is going to be a long and tiring day. If you don't mind, I'm going to bed as well. I suggest you do the same."

He took up the decanter along with the glass and stalked from the room, leaving his son feeling both puzzled and just a bit miffed.

* * *

After the fourth glass, the brandy at last began to take effect, finally loosing the knot in his stomach—not to speak of his groin. With a ragged sigh, Wrexham sat on the edge of his bed and took his head in his hands. Good lord, how things had come about as they had was still a shock to him. Never in his entire life had he lost control of his emotions like that.

He hadn't meant to kiss her. And he certainly hadn't meant to...

A wave of nausea passed over him as he realized that in another few minutes his breeches would have been down around his knees and Max would have walked in on the sight of his father merrily breaking every code of gentlemanly behavior that he had so rigidly drummed into his son's head. He couldn't begin to imagine what Max might have thought.

Wrexham raked his hands through his hair.

And what must Allegra—Mrs. Proctor—be thinking? She had been upset, vulnerable. He had only meant to comfort her, but somehow the light of the candle playing off her quixotic eyes, the glitter of the tear on her cheek, the curve of those full, sensuous lips had, in an instant, transformed his warm words into fiery deeds.

Though there was precious little left, he poured another glass of brandy, hoping to wash away the sweet taste of her mouth on his.

It was no use. It lingered even when his fingers came up to brush over his lips, still bruised with the passion of their embraces.

With a groan he sank back against the pillows. Sleep would be impossible. The best he could hope for was oblivion.

Chapter 10

The next day dawned grey and chilly, which mirrored the mood surrounding the departure. Max was still wore an injured expression over his father's sharp words from the night before, while the earl and Allegra both had the drawn faces and dark smudges under their eyes that bespoke of a sleepless night. Neither of them uttered so much as a word during the loading of the baggage carriage. And when the time came to set off, Wrexham signaled for his stallion to be brought around instead of climbing into the traveling carriage along with the others.

Allegra settled herself across from Max, studiously avoiding his questioning look, and let her eyes fall shut. At least for a time she could put off any demand for conversation by pretending to doze off. Though her exhaustion was all too real, she had little hope that sleep would bring a welcome escape from her thoughts, given her agitated state of mind.

What must the earl be thinking of her shocking behavior? Her throat constricted as she recalled the grim expression on his face as he had stalked down the stairs to oversee the preparation of the carriages. Why, he had looked positively sick at the sight of her. She could hardly blame him. When she considered what had taken place last night in the library, she was as appalled with herself as he must be. That a man was subject to certain urges was understood, but that she should have responded with equal abandon was beyond the pale.

She had been aware of what he had been about to do and she knew she would have allowed him to take what liberties he desired—nay, if she were brutally honest with herself, she had to admit she would have welcomed them. Surely he must have sensed that. There could be no question that he now thought of her as no better than Haymarket ware.

She felt the sting of tears against her lids. It hurt to have lost his good opinion of her character. Despite their frequent differences of opinion, the earl had always shown her a certain respect. Why, for a time it even appeared that they had become—friends. But now, there was nothing to do for it but muster up the courage to comport herself with dignity for the rest of the journey. After that, it hardly mattered. She couldn't imagine she would be around a moment longer than it took the servants to toss down her trunk from the carriage carrying the baggage.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Max closing his book with a decided thump in the hopes of gaining her attention. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Dear God, how could she look Max in the eye? If he had any inkling of what had taken place, he would no doubt be filled with disgust, too. It took all of her considerable resolve to keep from turning into a veritable watering pot. She couldn't, however, stave off the beginnings of a splitting headache that threatened to make the journey even more uncomfortable.

To make matters worse, a spitting rain began to fall, forcing the earl to abandon his mount and take refuge inside the carriage. Muttering a few choice words, he shook the drops of water from the brim of his hat, then flung himself back against the squabs with a grunt and drew a slim book from the pocket of his coat. Ignoring the others, he snapped it open and focused his gaze on the printed pages.

It was not, she noted, a volume of romantic poetry.

After another hour of jostling along the toll road, the tension within the carriage was as palpable as the damp chill that permeated the air. Finally Max could tolerate it no longer.

"What is wrong?" he demanded of his father. "Why are you and Mrs. Proctor acting as if something is dreadfully amiss if you haven't quarreled?"

The earl didn't raise his eyes from his book. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"What fustian!" said Max, unwilling to let the matter drop.

His father looked up with narrowed eyes. "I would prefer it that you don't indulge in a fit of sullens simply because I choose to read rather than converse at this early hour. It is a long journey, Max. Try to exhibit a little self-control."

"Don't patronize me as if I am a schoolboy," retorted Max. "As if I can't tell something is wrong," he added under his breath.

"Then stop acting like one," snapped Wrexham. "Else I'll order the carriage turned around this instant and take you back to the nursery."

Max let out a gasp of outrage but Allegra managed to forestall a further outburst by shooting him a warning look. Still, the situation was volatile enough that she felt she had to intervene to head off a real explosion.

"My lord," she said hesitantly. "In all fairness, Max hardly deserves to be spoken to in such—"

The earl's voice rose a notch. "Kindly refrain from telling me how to deal with my son, Mrs. Proctor."

"Don't yell at Mrs. Proctor!" cried Max. "She has done nothing to—"

"That's enough," said Allegra quietly, yet her tone caused Max to fall silent. "Let us not fall to brangling among ourselves." She took a deep breath. "Max, you must try to accept that there are a number of, ah, complex issues concerning this entire venture about which your father and I must come to a mutual understanding. It is not that we have... quarreled, it is just that we do not entirely agree on certain things and must work it out between ourselves. You may not understand it, but you must make allowances for it. Rest assured that you will be included in discussions that have bearing on our actual course of action."