Bound For Eden (14 page)

Oh glory, he was heading straight for her. Even though it was what she wanted, Alex felt nervous and uncertain. She clasped her hands together in an attempt to hide the fact they were trembling. He was looking at her
that
way again. Intimately, as though he knew what she looked like without her clothes.
He does, you ninny,
a little voice hissed in her head. Alex was blushing by the time he reached her.

‘Good evening, Miss . . .' Luke trailed off, and gave her a slow smile. ‘Do you know I don't even know your name?'

Alex gulped. Her name? What was her name? She couldn't give him her real name. She looked around the square, desperate for inspiration to strike. Nothing. And now he was giving her a very odd look indeed. Blushing brighter, she looked down at her dress. ‘Green,' she blurted, ‘my name is Green.'

‘Miss Green,' he said smoothly, taking her hand. She could tell by the sly narrowing of his eyes that he could feel her trembling, ‘I can't begin to tell you what a pleasure it is running into you again.'

Oh, this was going to be easier than he'd thought. The little lady couldn't keep her eyes off of him, and her skin was moist with nerves. Not to mention the way she trembled like a leaf in a strong breeze.

He was sure she was no virgin, parson's daughter or not. Virgins didn't respond the way she had. They didn't kiss you back with such heat, or arch against you when you caressed them. At least, he didn't think they did. Amelia certainly didn't. She set him firmly in his place and told him that he was a scoundrel and a rogue and to get off her front porch before she called for her father. And then, once he was off the porch and safely back on his horse, she looked up at him shyly through her eyelashes and told him he was welcome to come back next Sunday afternoon to sit with her for a spell. It was enough to make a man daft.

This one wasn't like that. She didn't look up at him through those thick curling dark lashes. She looked him full in the face, and her eyes were honest and clear. Like a mountain stream, he thought as he stared into them. Or shale, wet from a storm. They were a dozen shades of gray all blending together in patterns of light and shadow.

Luke blinked and recovered himself. A man could get lost in those smoky eyes. ‘Would you like to dance, Miss Green?'

Alex was still reeling from the intensity of his gaze. It was as though he'd looked right through to the core of her.

When she didn't respond, Luke led her gently towards the dance floor. She was intimately aware of the feel of his palm cupping her bare elbow, and of the heat of his body so close to hers. ‘Are you always this quiet?' he whispered into her ear, before gliding away to take his position for the reel.

She was as rigid as a tent pole for the first dance; every muscle was tensed. She was painfully conscious of his hands on her body, and of the distance between them when he moved away. The air between them thrummed with invisible energy, like the crackling of a summer lightning storm. Her nerve endings were zinging with anticipation, and she felt sure something wonderful was shimmering just out of sight. What was it about Luke Slater that turned her into such a wreck?

It was only after a couple of dances that Alex felt herself begin to relax. Oddly, it was the way his gaze fixed on her, unwavering, that calmed her. Tonight, she realised, he was hers completely. Before long, Alex found she was enjoying the dance immensely. The fiddles were lively, the night was balmy and scented with sugar and spices, and Luke Slater was a wonderful dancer. And why wouldn't he be, a little voice piped up in her head: the man seems to be wonderful at everything. She caught his black gaze and he gave her an insouciant wink. She giggled. She couldn't help it. She was helpless against the full force of his charm.

Luke couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself as much. When beautiful Beatrice smiled at him, he couldn't help but smile back. Even her smile was perfect, he realised, wide and enthusiastic – strawberry lips parting to reveal small, even white teeth.

At the end of a particularly lively reel, he spun her to the edge of the floor until she was laughing breathlessly. ‘Wait here a minute,' he excused himself, and she watched curiously as he took the courthouse steps two at a time, heading for the band. He whispered something into the fiddler's ear and Alex noticed money change hands.

He ran back down to her, looking boyish and wicked, his cheeks still flushed from dancing, his dark hair flopping over his forehead with every step.

‘What did you do?' she laughed.

He grinned and took her in his arms. One strong hand rested in the small of her back, as he pulled her close against him, and the other claimed her hand and guided it to the nape of his neck. ‘I simply drew to their attention the fact that those reels were exhausting the ladies, and that it was time for a slower waltz. Or two. Or three.'

Alex couldn't resist the twinkle in his eye. As the music swelled into a slow and lovely two-step, Luke guided her back onto the floor. With every step he seemed to draw her closer, until they were stomach to stomach and chest to chest. Alex was having trouble breathing again. He was so hard against her, and she could feel his legs brush hers through the weight of her skirts.

He captured her gaze and held it, as firmly as his arms were holding her body; his eyes were blacker than midnight, like the surface of a river on a moonless night, like the darkest shadows in the deepest woods. Alex thought she could lose herself completely in those eyes.

As the two-step melted into an even more languid waltz, his gaze grew warmer and more intimate and Alex felt herself melting into him. His hand was drifting slightly lower on her back, until his fingers were pressed against the curve of her bottom. Glory, it was fortunate they were in public, or who knew what she'd let him do.

Luke scowled when he felt a hand tapping him on the shoulder. He ignored it, but it grew more insistent, until it was almost thumping him in an effort to be acknowledged. Not now, he wanted to snarl, not when she's all hazy and soft with desire. He knew that if he could have another dance, he'd be able to waltz her off the floor and under the sycamores, where he could steal a kiss. Or two. Or three. And after that . . .

But now here was damn Henry Watts, looking up at him like a hopeful puppy. And what had Henry done to his hair in the last hour or so? It was plastered flat to his head and still bore the imprint of a comb, like a neatly furrowed field.

‘May I cut in?' Henry asked, darting a glance at the lovely girl in green.

‘I won't mind,' a shy voice suggested. To Alex's horror, Henry's partner stepped into view from behind Luke's back. It was Victoria.

Luckily, her attention was on Luke and she hadn't noticed Alex yet.

She couldn't, Alex thought wildly, suddenly feeling the full weight of her guilt. What was she doing? Spoiling Victoria's night, that was what she was doing. Out of pure jealousy. Because she couldn't bear Luke Slater thinking that Victoria was the pretty one. Feeling sick with shame, Alex spun on her heel and fled, shielding her face with her hands. Please let Victoria not recognise her!

‘Hey,' she heard Luke call after her. ‘Beatrice!'

Thank God for Dolly and her cousin Beatrice. Now Victoria would just think Luke's partner had been a crazy woman in a green dress. Not her own hateful sister, risking their very lives, just so she could dance with the man Victoria fancied herself in love with.

Alex tore through the empty streets, her breath rasping in her ears and her heart pounding. It wasn't until she'd run up the back stairs at Dolly's and shut herself in Delia's room that she let the tears spring to her eyes. What kind of monster was she?

‘I guess she didn't want to dance with me,' Henry said numbly, back at the dance. He fiddled self-consciously with his freshly combed hair.

Luke ignored him and started after Beatrice. Where the hell was she going?

Victoria gazed after him with a sinking heart. She should have known. Here she'd been feeling like the prettiest girl at the dance, enjoying more male attention than she'd ever had before in her life, but, of course, there was a prettier girl. There was always a prettier girl. It was usually her own sister, she thought glumly. And if Alex could have come in her dove-gray dress, instead of in Adam's baggy old clothes, Luke would probably have been chasing after her, instead of some girl in green. Victoria straightened her shoulders. At least it wasn't that, she thought, cheering up. At least she didn't have to watch him mooning over Alex. And it was she, Victoria Sparrow, who was about to spend several long months in the wilderness with him, not some woman in green. She barely made it halfway back to the table before she was intercepted by another dance partner, and Victoria found that her spirits were considerably improved.

Luke reached Dolly's in time to see Beatrice dart around the side of the building. He followed. He was only in town for another day or so, and he didn't intend to waste the advantage he'd gained tonight. What if he didn't see her again?

He was astonished when he rounded the house to find Adam in the dark and dusty yard between the building and the stable, walking the stallion in the moonlight.

From the corner of his eye he saw the swish of skirts and noticed Beatrice disappearing across the balcony and into the cathouse.

‘Look, Luke, he likes me!' Adam called, his voice loud in the still night.

Luke forced a smile. All he wanted to do was fly up the stairs after her, but he genuinely liked Adam and couldn't bring himself to brush him off. ‘What are you doing, Adam? You're missing the dance.'

A frown crossed Adam's face. ‘I know, that's what I told Alex.'

‘Alex is here again?' Luke said with a measure of exasperation. He really was going to have to give Dolly a piece of his mind. She was taking advantage of the boy's youth.

‘Don't be mad at Alex. We'll go back before the dance is over.'

‘I'm not mad,' Luke assured him.

‘Blackie Junior needs the exercise anyway.'

Luke looked at the stallion dubiously. He wasn't sure the animal would regard being led slowly around the yard as exercise. ‘I'm still not sure about the name, Adam. How about something more dignified, like Apollo?'

Adam wrinkled his nose.

Luke glanced up at the window to Delia's old room, where a lamp was burning. ‘Not Apollo,' he mused absently, already moving towards the stairs. ‘I'll think of something else.'

‘That's alright, I like Blackie.'

‘If I see Alex I'll send him down to take you back to the dance.'

Adam brightened. ‘I liked the dancing,' he said, but Luke was already out of earshot.

Luke tried to enter the house as stealthily as possible, worried he might run into one of the girls. When he opened the door he was greeted by muffled sounds of pleasure, both real and feigned, coming from some of the rooms. The sounds increased his sense of anticipation as he approached the door to Delia's room. Beatrice's room.

Alex almost leapt out of her skin when there was a soft knock at the door. She froze, unsure what to do. Before she could do anything the doorknob began to twist and her stomach turned over. She'd forgotten to lock the door behind her. Oh glory, and she was in a whorehouse! What if it was a customer looking for a whore? Like Luke the other day, the little voice whispered, and heat flooded her with the memory.

Luke eased the door open, careful to do it slowly, as most of the doors at Dolly's were still new and prone to squeaking. She was standing in the centre of the room, as though she'd been waiting for him. Maybe she had, he thought, as he took in her flushed cheeks and naked shoulders. The demure gauze wrap she'd worn was balled up on the floor, and her dusty slippers were discarded nearby. Maybe her flight hadn't been a flight at all – perhaps it had been an invitation. She didn't tell him to leave, and that was certainly invitation enough for Luke. He eased into the room and closed the door behind him with a click.