Page 58 of A Stolen Heart

“You’ve probably caught cold in that dress,” Sebastian commented dryly. “There. Now you can stand up.”

He tossed the scarf to the floor and put his hands on her arms, pulling her out of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, and she buckled against him. His arms went around her to hold her up.

“I’m all wobbly,” Alexandra said with a little laugh, wrapping her arms around him.

Her breasts pressed into his chest, and her warm breath drifted over his skin at the open top of his shirt, sending a rush of heat slamming straight into his loins.

“Mm,” Alexandra murmured and twisted a little against him.

He drew a sharp breath. “Bloody hell, Alexandra! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured with a throaty laugh. “But doesn’t it feel good?”

She leaned back and looked at him. She was smiling, her lips moist and inviting, curving upward seductively. Her eyes were huge and velvety, the color of night. She was softer than he had ever seen her, and—and there was something definitely wrong. For a moment he wasn’t sure what it was, just a feeling, perhaps, but then he began to see the signs. There was a slackness to her face, particularly her mouth, a hazy, almost somnolent look to her eyes, and she swayed a little as she stood. The dark velvetiness of her eyes came from the fact that her pupils were huge, as if she were in Stygian darkness, not a lamp-lit room.

“My God!” he breathed in horror. “They’ve done something to you! They’ve drugged you!”

She nodded in that same slow, overly firm way she had before and said in a small voice, “I know. I’ve been sleeping and sleeping. But not so much now. The last few hours I’ve been awake. I just feel so…so languid.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Thorpe. I’m useless; I can hardly stand. And my brain isn’t working very well.”

He set his mouth grimly. “Don’t worry. I can carry you if I have to.”

“Mother!” She grasped the front of his shirt. “I forgot—is she all right?”

“She’s fine. Don’t worry about her. The main thing is to get you out of here. I’ll take you home and pour some coffee down you. That ought to help.”

“I hope so. I feel so odd.” She shivered and began to run her hands up and down her arms. “Hot one minute and cold the next. They gave me something else about—” She frowned. “I don’t know, a while ago. But it didn’t make me feel sleepy. It’s what makes me feel so odd, not numb, but tingly and—and itchy.”

A blush flooded her face, and she turned away, putting her hands up to her cheeks to cool them. She felt as if she were on fire. For the past while, a strange urgency had been growing in her, making her hot and stirring up all sorts of odd, vibrant sensations. The itch she felt was not the sort that one might have on an arm or leg, but an itching deep inside, a hunger and yearning that ached to be appeased.

When Thorpe had entered the room and she had recognized him, she had been flooded with joy and relief. Whatever they had drugged her with had left her sleepy and languid, unable most of the time to move or talk coherently, but still she had known, despite her enforced acquiescence, that she wanted very badly to be out of this situation. Otherwise, something terrible was going to happen to her, and she was going to be powerless to stop it. When Sebastian walked in the door, her fears had fallen away. She had known deep within her that he would take her away from this evil place and that madwoman Magdalena.

However, the surge of joy she had felt on seeing him had only made this other feeling worse—this throbbing and burning that seemed to be centered between her legs. Even as she had uttered the words, she had known that what she wanted to feel was Thorpe’s hand there, between her thighs, where she ached the most. It was, she knew, an utterly lewd and licentious desire.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what had made Alexandra blush, but for some reason, his body responded with a surge of heat. He turned away abruptly.

“We better get you out of here.” He walked to the door and eased it open, peering out the crack. “It’s clear. Come on.”

He turned to Alexandra and saw that she was standing beside the bed. She began to walk toward him in a slow, dreamy way, weaving as she came. He watched her, feeling his manhood respond to the sensual vision she created. It was impossible to see her lush body in the sheer material, breasts cupped by the high waist of the dress, nipples dark and straining against the cloth, hips swaying beneath the floating skirts, without thinking of slow, steaming sex. Of long, hot nights in tangled sheets, of endless kisses and the fragrant juices of lovemaking. Sebastian let out a little sigh. What was wrong with him that he could think of making love to a woman in a situation like this, with danger all around and no time to spare? Even worse, it seemed to him the mark of a roué, a libertine or worse, to want to take a woman who was drugged!

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to the door. Setting her behind him, he again looked into the corridor. To his amazement, he felt Alexandra plaster her body against his from behind, encircling his waist with her arms. He snapped the door shut.

“Alexandra! What are you doing?” Her hands were moving slowly up and down his chest, slipping beneath his jacket and burning through his shirt. “Stop it.”

He turned, trying to ignore the myriad sensations that were awakened as their bodies rubbed against each other, and grabbed Alexandra’s wrists. “We have to leave,” he told her, enunciating each word as if he were speaking to a recalcitrant child. “All right?”

She nodded. “I know. I just…wanted to touch you.”

“God.” Her words almost undid him worse than her touch. He set her away from him, opened the door, took her by the wrist and led her into the hall. They had passed the next room when he heard voices from the far end of the hall, echoing in the stairwell. There was a murmur of male voices and a woman’s high-pitched laugh.

Sebastian’s first instinct was to run, but he knew they could not make it to the end of the hall without being seen, especially given Alexandra’s wobbly state, and running would arouse suspicions more than anything else. It was better to playact, he decided, and so he dropped Alexandra’s wrist and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly against his side.

She looked at him wonderingly.

“Shh. Someone’s coming. Pretend I’m a customer.”

“A customer?”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned his head against hers, nuzzling her ear.