Perhaps it was the warmth of her hand and the comfort of the gesture. Or her ease with the Holdens earlier in the evening. Or the fact that she didn’t seem cowed by his father. Certainly, at least one third of what he did next could be blamed on how beautiful she looked. All night, he’d felt certain that ordering those gowns had been the gravest mistake of his life, though now, as he sat inches away from her in the carriage, covered though she was by her pelisse, heknewit had been among his wisest decisions. As for what he did next, it would not be.
Removing the distance between them, he cupped her face, capturing her lips in a kiss he was doing his best to keep polite. She remained stone-still for a moment, a moment which felt at least as long as any opera he’d ever sat through. Finally, when Alexander began to pull back, she moved. It was slight at first, just the inclination of her head to give him better access to those wicked lips of hers. Thank God she talked so much; it gave him the perfect cover for watching her mouth. Had he known from the start how delicious her mouth was, he might never have let her speak a word for keeping it busy. He licked the seam of her lips, and she opened up for him. A groan escaped him. He wrapped his arms around her back, drawing her in closer. From her mouth, he moved his way down, kissing her throat before traveling eastward. He brushed his lips in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, producing from her the mostdelightful sound he’d ever heard. Alexander meant to do everything in his power to hear it again as soon as possible. He went back to the spot to attempt an encore, but he was suddenly being pushed away from Harriet.
Panic set in immediately. Had he gone too far? Too fast? Was she upset? Only upon their disentanglement did he notice the carriage was slowing.
“We’re home,” she whispered. It probably said something embarrassing about his mental state that he found her calling his town house “home” erotic. He shook off the thought and opened the carriage door himself. The crisp night air should have cleared his amorous thoughts, but instead it reinvigorated him.
Grabbing the carriage blanket, he jumped out of the vehicle. He reached for Harriet’s waist and helped her down, steps and footman be damned. Waving off the man, he took up her hand and hurried Harriet up the steps. If he acted expediently enough, perhaps they might continue what was happening in the carriage; perhaps the spell they’d been under wouldn’t break and the evening wouldn’t end.
He took off down the hall toward the closest, most comfortable room he could think of. Though “thinking” was a generous term for what his mind was doing.
He wished there’d been a fire in the grate burning, ready for them, but evenhewasn’t so rich as to leave a fire burning when no one was in the house. He closed the door behind him, and then, for good measure, locked it. He turned around to a blushing, delectable Harriet.
They were in the library, of course.
Chapter Twenty-One
HARRIET KNEW—SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF HER MIND, SHEknew—this was a terrible idea. Libraries led to liberties, in her experience with him, and she could ill afford to further muddy her sentiments regarding the man. She understood his actions could be chalked up to availability—she was the only lady in residence—but nothing about his demeanor suggested this was an act of convenience.
“May I?” Alexander asked, stepping closer, tossing the blanket over a nearby armchair.
Harriet had no earthly idea what he was asking permission for and every confidence she’d enjoy it. So she nodded.
Alexander bent and cradled her face in his hands before claiming her mouth again. Tasting her, nipping at her. Each kiss of his made herwant. She felt in grave danger of melting. His entire body felt hard and hot against hers. Were kisses supposed to make one feel heavy?
Then he pulled away and she almost whimpered with need.
“You can touch me back, you know?” he teased, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Mortification suffused through her at having to be informed. He was no doubt accustomed to womenwho didn’t need to be instructed in the act of seduction. Harriet froze in place.
Without appearing to give it a second thought, Alexander bent and scooped her into his arms as if she weighed as much as an embroidery hoop. No one had lifted her since she was a child. Alexander might be used to tossing women around his bedroom—or library as it were—but undoubtedly, they were not her size.
“Alexander!” she screeched, the noise unpleasant even to her own ears. She was getting this all wrong, although he seemed not to be noticing.
He set her down on a divan as if she weighed naught and stood, grinning. “So youdoknow my name?” he jested, shrugging out of his tailcoat and beginning to unfasten his waistcoat, a sight which Harriet would never tire of. Should they ever be short on funds, they could no doubt sell admission to the display.
“I believe I’ve used it before,” she replied, biting into her lip, hoping to stay fully attentive to both the conversation and the show before her.
“Only thrice,” he said, simply.
“You’ve been counting?”
“Fantasizing,” he corrected.
He undid his cravat and removed his cufflinks and then sat on the edge of a nearby armchair to remove his boots. Transfixed, Harriet watched for a moment; then, realizing what she was meant to do, began to take off her gloves. She reached down to remove her own shoes. The gown would require his assistance.
“Not that I don’t adore what you’re doing, but you can stop there.” Before Harriet could be hurt by the words, Alexander held up a hand. “Don’t fret, wewillget there. If you’d like. First, however, I thought we might try something.”
The suggestion brought no small amount of panic; if someone with his expertise was going to “try” something, she was certain to be out of her depth. A lump of nerves appeared in her throat, which she swallowed to ask, “You haven’t done this before?”
“Well, no, not exactly …” he said, continuing to undress himself, removing his breeches and then returning to sit.
“Marvelous,” Harriet trilled, sitting up next to him on the divan and placing her hands on her thighs to signal that she was ready. For … whatever came next.
Harriet was proud that her voice sounded relatively even. He smiled broadly at her and sank to his knees. Some of her nerves disappeared at the act. Or perhaps just rearranged themselves. He’d known quite well what to do with his face in that area last week.
Instead of rucking up her skirts and diving in, he watched her intently—a littletoointently. He traced a finger up her now bare arm until he reached the sleeve of her gown. He skipped over the fabric and continued his ministrations on her collarbone.
“I had thoughtyoumight touchme,” he explained, though he didn’t stop his caresses.
