When Fern looked up, Alex was not looking at the sketches. His eyes were gazing at her face, taking her in as though he was seeing her for the first time. The same way he looked at her in the library at her father’s masquerade. “I have never met anyone like you,” he whispered, raising his other hand to cup her cheek, his thumb catching the corner of her mouth.
She could see the battle raging inside him, the newly discovered longing warring against his sense of responsibility and propriety. God help her, she wanted his propriety tolose.
Fern knew she should stop what was happening, should go inside, should tell him she would never see him again, but she couldn’t.Would it be so bad if, just once, I had something special instead of Rose?
His lips met hers and her body burst into flames. His kiss was firm, needy, and he pulled away for a moment to take in her expression before catching her lips again. His tongue flicked against the seam of her lips, and she sighed and opened her mouth, eagerly welcoming the exploration of his tongue with her own.
She felt rather than heard the low growl escaping him. Alex put one hand on her waist and the other on the nape of her neck, pulling her flush against him, the notebook falling with a flutter to the ground. She savored the heat of his body through the fine wool of her jacket and skirt, pressing closer, eager for more of his touch, more ofhim.
His lips left her mouth, tipping her chin back and exploring her jawbone, her neck. She gasped when his teeth caught her earlobe, licked the curve of her ear, languishing in the hollow where her ear met her jaw. “You’re amazing,” he murmured against her skin. She grabbed the fabric of his lapels and pulled, desperate to have him even closer. He brought his eyes back to her face, to her parted lips, her wide eyes, and kissed her again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth.
In his arms, Fern believed his words. She felt perfect exactly as she had been made. Not less than, but enough. With Alex, she was more than enough.
Deep inside the house, a dog began barking. Alex jumped back, blinking repeatedly. When she dared to look at Alex she saw his ashen face as he averted his eyes, running his hand over his mouth as though he wished to erase her touch.Oh lord, she thought, her throat tightening,I’ve done something truly horrible.
She fumbled with the door handle, desperate to get inside. “I need to go—”
“Fern, I’m sorry,” Alex stammered. “I was—”
“Please, forget it happened.” Fern’s hands were trembling so violently she could barely grip the doorknob. But why did she desperately want to kiss him again?
“I can’t just forget.” He hesitated. “Will you tell Rose?”
Of course.This wasn’t about Fern, after all. He wanted to protect Rose, and the relationship they were building. The kiss they shared was an aberrance, not a reflection of his feelings for her. Rose would win, once again.
“I don’t tell her everything,” Fern said, her voice icy. “You needn’t worry.”
“But will I see you tomorrow?” Worry lines creased from the edges of his lips which moments ago had caressed hers. “We only have three days until your meeting, do you want to prepare?”
Her dream of Oxford was so close. In three days she could be part of the shining beacon of knowledge she had worshiped for most of her life, but only if Alex helped her.
But she could not destroy Rose’s dream for hers. Rose wanted to marry him, and Fern would not break her heart. Rose and Alex made sense together. Rose was destined to be the bride, the happy wife, and Fern… She was destined to be alone. She had to let him go.
“I’m sorry, I have other plans.” Her heart protested every word. “Your own presentation is coming up, you needn’t waste your time.”
“It’s not a waste, I enjoy being with you, and the work is both of ours—”
“Good night, Mr. Carroway,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
Alex stood in the moonlight, looking gloriously handsome and rumpled, hurt radiating from his expression. “Of course,” he finally mumbled. “Good night, Miss Fern.”
Chapter 21
WhenAlexthrewhimselfdown on the worn leather chair in Henry’s apartment, his entire body ached. His head was pounding when he arrived at Pembroke and grew worse when he had to explain to a new guard on duty why he had Lord Henry’s horse in the first place at the late hour. Even worse was the persistent ache from unresolved lust, only exacerbated by a twenty-minute ride on horseback.
Henry handed him a glass of whiskey and lounged across from Alex in a matching armchair, looking annoyingly at ease. “With that expression, I am willing to wager you have gotten yourself into quite a heap of trouble,” Henry said with a smirk.
Alex grumbled a low curse. For their entire relationship, Alex had been the logical one, the staid and stable friend, the person who got Henry out of trouble and never got himself into it. Alex knew Henry would enjoy gloating over the reversal in fortune, but it was still bloody irritating.
“I’m certainly in it now,” Alex replied, drinking deeply from his whiskey, wincing as it burned down his throat. “You know I’ve been courting Rose Waverly.”
“And incomprehensibly she is responding well, so I’ve heard.”
Alex narrowed his eyes at the cut but continued. “Her father has offered to write me a recommendation to the School of Economics.” He sighed. “I think she wants me to ask her to marry me.”
Henry sat back in his chair, his face spreading into a grin as he raised his glass. “Well, congratulations are in order! I never would have thought you would be the one to catch the fair Rose, but well done!” Henry paused, taking in his friend’s pinched expression. “But I take it you’re not completely thrilled with this arrangement. You told me you fancied yourself in love with her.”
“I am. I was. I don’t know.” He noted absently that the whiskey burned less the more he sipped.
