Lady Alexandra's Lover (4 page)

Evan let out a chuckle. “You don’t seem the knitting type.”

“I’m not. I abhor it. But with Lily and Rose both in the family way, I’m knitting baby booties. It’s what’s expected.”

“Frankly, you don’t seem the type to ever do what’s expected.”

She smiled again. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Then, “I know what we can do. Let’s play truth.”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Truth? What is that?”

“A game Sophie and I used to play with Lily and Rose when we were younger. You can ask anyone anything, and they have to tell the truth. If they refuse, they have to do something you tell them to do.”

“What fun is that?”

“It’s loads of fun, actually. And we’ve nothing but time on our hands. I need something to take my mind off food.”

“Very well, then.” He adjusted his toga. “Ask away.”

“Hmm. All right.” What to ask? Or rather, what did she have the nerve to ask? What she wanted to ask would be frowned upon in mixed company. “Tell me about your mother.”

“That’s not a question, Alexandra.”

“Ally, please. And touché. What was your mother like?”

“For God’s sake, where are the parameters? My mother was a complex individual. I could write an entire book about her.”

“Give me the abridged version.”

“Why are you so interested in my mother?”

“Sorry, it’s not your turn. You must answer my question first, and then I shall answer yours.”

“Of all the blasted— Fine. My mother was a lovely woman. Her name was Maureen. She thought herself plain of face, but I thought she was lovely. Her hair was light brown, about the same color as yours, actually, and she had warm brown eyes. I favor my father, as you know, but people say I have her eyes.”

“Did she love your father?”

“Yes, I believe she did.”

“But he was never in love with her, was he?”

Evan shook his head, his brown eyes cast downward. “No, he was not. It was an arranged marriage. My mother deserved better.”

“I doubt love is all it’s cracked up to be,” Ally said. “More important things exist than an emotion that can cause as much pain as happiness.”

“Like what?”

“Is that your question?”

“All right. Call it my question, then. What is more important than love?”

“Oh, little things like knowing you might be fed, for one. My God, I’m famished. Having enough so you’re not a burden on anyone else. Silly things like that.”

“How can you say that when you just saw both your cousins fall in love?”

“Sorry, it’s my turn to ask a question. I just answered yours.”

“Rubbish. I answered several of yours.”

Ally laughed. “It’s not my fault you don’t understand the rules of the game. I answer one question, and then I get to ask you one.”

“Lord… All right. Go ahead.”

“Were you in love with Rose?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

“Very well. You shall do something. Hmm.” She rubbed her chin. “I’m thinking I should like to see what’s under that linen…”

“Alexandra!”

“Then answer, Evan.”

“Fine. No, I was not in love with Rose. Nor she with me.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” He pounded the table. “Damn! That’s two questions.”

Ally laughed again. “Yes, you’re going to have to pay more attention now, aren’t you?”

He lifted his lips into a lopsided grin. Good, he was unwinding a bit. Such a beautiful man shouldn’t always be so stuffy.

“My turn, then,” he said. “Did your father strike your mother?”

Ally’s body heated, and she clenched her hands into fists. Angus MacIntyre, the Earl of Longarry, had done far more than strike her mother. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“The game was your idea, Alexandra.”

“I know. And it was a foolish one.”

“You don’t strike me as a woman who backs down from a challenge.”

“I’m not.” She stood. “Give me my action, then. What must I do?”

“You’d better watch yourself,” he said slyly. “I may actually drop my toga and force you to look.”

“You think that would deter me?” She scoffed. “I nearly made you take the dratted thing off a moment ago.”

“Yes, you did. But you were bluffing, I’d bet. I don’t think you’re nearly as experienced as you’d like me to believe you are.”

She sat down with a huff. “Yes, my father struck my mother. Now why do you want to know?”

“Fair question. I want to know because your mother, you, and your sister are part of my life now. I care about all of you.”

“What does it matter, though? The man is dead, thank God. It’s not like you can call him out.”

“No. But my father cares very deeply for your mother. He’s in love with her. He told me your father was abusive, and that it makes him sick inside to think of it. He wants to make it up to her and give her the life she deserves.”

“He seems to be doing that just fine, so why all the questions?”

He paused a moment and stroked the light night beard on his jawline. “Not your turn, Alexandra.” He gazed at her, his brown eyes ablaze, as if he could see her innermost thoughts. “No man should ever strike a woman. Any man who does is nothing but a bully and a coward.”

“Frankly, I couldn’t agree more.” That was the truth of it. “Your question, please?”

He reached forward and lightly brushed his fingers over hers. “Did your father ever strike you?”

D
earest Amelia
,

I’ve had my second art lesson with Monsieur Christophe Bertrand, and it was even more engaging than the first. If you’re looking to dabble in something new, might I suggest art? Perhaps there are instructors as fascinating as Christophe in the Americas. I hope so, for your sake, my dear.

My pussy is still hammering as I write this, only an hour past my lesson. Today we worked on charcoal drawing, and he gave me the most fascinating subject—his cock!

It is a work of art, dear Amelia, long and thick and perfectly marbled with two violet veins meandering around it and springing from a bush of onyx curls. He was erect when he produced it, and I couldn’t help myself. I dropped to my knees and licked the tip. The salty drop of liquid tantalized my tongue, and I so longed to take his entire length to the back of my throat.

He pulled me to my feet, however. “My lady, as much as I would love your ruby lips around my member, we must first have our lesson. I promise you may suck my cock to your heart’s content after we finish.”

He wanted me, Amelia. I could see it in his lovely dark eyes. But he is a gentleman of honor, and he must first do what he is being paid by Auntie Bea for—teach me art.

I drew several charcoal drawings of his beautiful shaft. When our hour was complete, he pushed me back down to my knees.

“And now, my lady, you may suck my cock.”

My lips were on him in a flash, and I slid my tongue up and down his thick member. He plunged into my mouth, and soon my quim began throbbing in time with his thrusts. If only I had disrobed beforehand! How I wanted that thick cock inside me.

“Sir,” I gasped, letting his cock fall from my mouth, “I must have your cock in my cunt. Please!”

“You got yours last time, my lady,” said he. “Today I want that lovely mouth around me.”

How could I say no? He had given me such pleasure during our previous engagement. I continued my assault on him, laving the underside of his swollen cock and kissing and licking the knobby head before I took him deeply once more.

“My lady,” he said, breathless, “I fear I’m going to come!”

I nodded, unable to speak with my lips around his thickness. He plunged and grasped the sides of my head, spurting his cream into the back of my throat. I feared I might gag, but held strong, and when he withdrew, I smiled.

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me thoroughly, and Amelia, as our tongues mingled together and I tasted his essence, I could no longer bear it. My quim ached for his tongue, his fingers, his cock…but I was still fully clothed! I couldn’t even reach between my legs to sooth my ache.

Christophe finally broke the kiss, and I took a much-needed breath.

“That was wonderful.” He smiled. “And now, my lady, you shall have your reward.”

T
hough Evan’s
light touch made her nerves sizzle, Ally drew her hand away. “Show me whatever you have under your toga, then. I’ll not answer your question.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Sorry about what? About what you’ve got under your toga? I doubt that’s anything to be sorry about.”

“Stop joking, Alexandra.”

“Who is joking?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that your father struck you.”

So much for keeping her little secret. She was probably an open book. She’d gotten used to the beatings long ago, and now, over two years had passed without any. It had been a wonderful respite. Never again would a man strike her. She’d kill anyone who tried. She’d kill anyone who touched her mother or sister as well. The situation had been rougher on both of them, especially Mama. She’d tried to hide it, but Ally always knew. Sophie, who was two years older, took the brunt of the earl’s anger that wasn’t heaped on their mother until Alexandra put a stop to it. Larger and less fearful, Alexandra began provoking her father on purpose so he steered away from Sophie. Timid, shy little Sophie, who was still sweet and good despite the experience. Not Ally. She’d toughened up. To hell with love. She was marrying Mr. Landon. He was nice enough. He wouldn’t beat her, and if he ever tried… Well, he would wish he hadn’t.

She had no desire to relive any of her experiences with her father. But dratted Evan couldn’t let it go. “Why do you care?” she asked.

“Because I care about you. You’re mine to protect now—”

“Hold on one minute!” Her ire rose. “I’m no one’s to protect, least of all yours. I can take care of myself.”

“You can, can you? What if I’d allowed you to travel to London alone? Where would you be now?”

“I would have taken the rail, like I’d planned.”

“And you’d have been derailed in this storm. You’d most likely be severely injured or worse, dead, right now.”

Ally bit her lip. He was no doubt right. It irked her, but she needed him. And she was glad he was here. “I guess it’s my turn.”

“All right. What is your question?”

“Have you ever been to a brothel?”

Evan stood. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not answering that. Men and women of our station don’t discuss such things.”

“Bloody hell, we’re dressed in bed linens, Evan. Why stand on ceremony now?”

“I’m not answering.” He fidgeted with his toga.

“No, no!” Ally looked away. She wanted to see it, but the thought scared her senseless. Evan was so handsome, and so well put together… “I’ll ask another question.”

“Fine.” He sat, his lips curving into a saucy grin. “Ask your question.”

“Just so you know, I’ve inferred by your reluctance to answer my previous question that the correct response is affirmative.”

He said nothing, but his nostrils flared. Just a touch, but she noticed. And then the perfect question came to her, darted into her mind as if someone had flipped a switch. She’d take care of that saucy grin with seven little harmless words.

“
D
id
you see my breasts this morning?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

Sophie looked up from her novel. “Yes, Graves?” she said to the Brighton butler.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but a wire just came in from the caretaker at the London townhome. Lord Evan and Lady Alexandra did not arrive yesterday as planned.”

Sophie frowned, worry chewing at her gut. “What could have happened?”

“They were waylaid by the storm, no doubt. They most likely stopped at an inn for the night.”

“Wouldn’t Lord Evan have sent word to London?”

“Not necessarily. The lines could have been down. Or perhaps he didn’t think of it. Lord Evan is a bachelor. Bachelors sometimes forget that others might like to know their whereabouts.”

“I’d say that’s true of my sister, but Lord Evan seems so…responsible.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, my lady.”

Sophie nodded. “If you say so, Graves.”

“Of course. Luncheon will be served in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there promptly.”

Graves left the room.

Sophie’s nerves jumped. Where were Ally and Evan? Mama and the earl were on their wedding trip, as were Rose and her new husband, Cameron. Lily, being in the family way, was at the Lybrook estate fairly nearby, but the duke was in Scotland on estate business.

She had no one to turn to.

Well, best get to luncheon. Though she was certain she would not be able to swallow a bite.

E
van gulped
.

Yes, he’d seen her beautiful rosy mounds. He’d required all his strength and power of will not to fan his fingers over the peachy skin, the lovely rosebud nipple… He’d risen and run outside for a quick shower in the rain to cool his simmering arousal.

The woman was his stepsister, not to mention a genuine pain in his arse. She was beautiful though, with a body that would tempt even a monk. She was tall, which fit his large frame well. He’d gotten a glimpse of her shapely legs yesterday when they peeked out from her toga. Long and slender, they could wrap all the way around him as he…

No, no, no!

“Are you going to answer?”

He’d have to bluff again. She’d stopped him the last time. Perhaps she would again. “I’ll show you what’s under my toga. Or do whatever else you’d like.”

She lifted her lips into a saucy grin. Lord, she was tempting. Her light brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Hmm. I’ve tired of that. Clearly you don’t want to show me what lies thereunder. I shall think of something else.”

He stood. “I’m going to have a dipper of water. I’ll be waiting with bated breath for your challenge.”

The water cooled his parched throat, but unfortunately did nothing for his erection that threatened to poke through the linen. Damn it all. He shouldn’t have stood up. Fortunately, his back was to Alexandra as he dipped water from the slipper tub. Once he was reasonably certain his arousal wasn’t visible, he set the dipper down and quickly moved back to his chair.

“Still thinking, are you?”

She smiled, her cheeks rosy. “Yes, yes. I’m thinking.”

“May I ask you another question in the meantime?”

“Of course. Do go ahead.”

She fidgeted with her fingers on the table. Was she happy not to have to think of another challenge for him? It certainly seemed so. His stomach rumbled. First time he’d thought of food in a while. Her game had at least been good for that. Would this damned rain never stop? He had to get out to find some kind of sustenance for them, and then he had to get help.

“How often did you go hungry as a child?”

She bit her lip. Dear Lord, he wanted to suck that lower lip between his own and…

“Why must you drudge on and on about my childhood?”

“Sorry.” He smiled. “You said I could ask another question, so I’m not answering yours.”

“For goodness’ sake.” She rose, walked around the table, and stood directly in front of him. “We never starved, all right? But we certainly never had six course meals with footmen serving them. Mother insisted we have a tutor, Miss O’Hara, but we couldn’t keep her for long. We had two servants near the end—a housekeeper who doubled as a maid for my mother, and Millicent, a maid who served my sister and me. You’ve no doubt seen her. She’s still my maid today. I wouldn’t trade her for anything. Now may we end this discourse on my past? Please?”

Her cheeks were fiery red, her eyes ablaze with gold flecks. His cock nudged the linen.

“Very well. No more questions about your childhood. And I’ll ask for no more questions about my experiences with the fairer sex, including whether I’ve been to a brothel.”

“Goodness. Deal.” Then her lips turned up. “I’ve thought of a challenge for you.”

He sucked in a breath. It would be a killer, for sure. He nodded.

“I want you to kiss me.”