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Alex had never witnessed such blatant envy within a family. There was no doubt in her mind that Sebastian wished nothing but ill for his brother. It angered and sickened her. She knew for certain that she could never confide in Sebastian her suspicions that someone was trying to kill Drake. He was no ally, but an adversary.
Sebastian interpreted Alex’s dark silence to mean that his barb had hit its mark, that she was infuriated by the possibility that Drake might still have other women. Good. If his implication had made her doubt Drake’s fidelity it would drive her to his own bed that much sooner.
Discreetly he brushed the bare skin atop her bodice with his fingers. “Do not look so mortified, my thorny little rose,” he soothed. “As I have told you before, I will always welcome your attentions. It is charming and refreshing to see so lovely a woman champion Drake’s cause. I much admire your display of loyalty.”
Something inside Alex snapped. “Then perhaps you should acquire some yourself, you unprincipled snake!” She recoiled from his touch and walked off, not turning to see his reaction to her words.
Sebastian looked thoughtfully, expressionlessly, after her. For now he would let her play her little game of indignant virtue. But in time she would be his.
Alex took deep breaths to control her temper. She would not allow Sebastian to deter her from her purpose. Come hell or high water she would uncover the identity of the person who had tried to kill Drake.
With a dazzling smile she approached Alicia and Stephen Lyndale, who were engaged in light, breathless chatter, having just finished a frolicking reel.
“Oh, Alexandria,” Alicia said, still laughing. “This party is delightful! Stephen and I were just saying that it is a pleasure to enjoy a dance together without colliding with other couples. A small gathering like this one is a welcome change after the rapid pace of the Season and the cluttered house parties of the fall.”
“I am pleased that you are enjoying yourselves,” Alex said with sincerity. She truly liked Alicia, and had taken to Stephen immediately as well. He was the only man in the room, save the elderly Lord Kensgate, who looked at Alex without lust burning in his eyes. In fact, Stephen was totally absorbed in his wife. The tender glances he bestowed upon Alicia revealed his obvious and deep love for her. Seeing their closeness, Alex felt a momentary twinge, of envy. How she wished Drake would gaze at her with such love.
“You are looking a bit pale, Alexandria.” Stephen’s voice held genuine concern. “Are you feeling well?”
Alex smiled up into his kind face. “Yes, of course, Stephen. I suppose I am still shaken by Drake’s accident today.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Thank heaven he seems to be none the worse for it, though.”
Alex followed his gaze to where Drake remained in animated conversation with Eric Ravensley. Only now a flushed and simpering Arabella stood beside Eric, staring up at Drake as she hung on to his every word.
A surge of anger shot through Alex like a bolt of lightning. Was Eric blind? His wife was openly ogling his friend right beside him! As she watched and fumed, Alex saw Arabella inch closer to Drake until her half-naked bosom was almost touching his arm. That did it. If Eric had no pride, Alex did.
She turned back to Stephen. “I agree. Drake seems to be quite himself tonight. Would the two of you excuse me, please?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but walked purposefully across the room as the musicians began the first notes of a waltz. Alex was certain that neither Stephen nor Alicia would harm anyone, least of all, Drake. It was time to investigate the Ravensleys … and to stake her claim on her husband at the same time.
She reached Drake in time to hear Arabella say, “Oh, how I love to waltz. But Eric does not succumb to decadence quite so readily as I.” She licked her lower lip suggestively, then giggled. “So it seems I am in need of a partner for this dance.”
“Then we will not hold you from your search, Arabella,” Alex broke in, positioning herself possessively by Drake’s side. “Since Drake has promised this waltz to me, we’ll be out of your way at once.” She smiled innocently at Drake’s startled but amused expression. “Darling?”
He recovered immediately. “Of course, princess. I am all yours.” He nodded their excuses, then, smoothly guided Alex onto the dance floor, chuckling as he took his wife’s hand. “Darling?” he teased, looking down into her flushed face. They both knew she had never used that particular endearment in the past. “Funny,” he mused aloud, “I do not remember discussing this particular waltz, though it is a pleasure to dance with my wife,” he assured her. In truth he was touched by her obvious display of jealousy, for it was a further indication that she cared.
Alex hastily changed the subject. “Is your arm causing you any pain?” The anger had waned, her real concern for Drake warming her eyes to a deep smoky gray.
“My arm is fine.” His smile abruptly faded. When she looked up at him that way he felt everything inside him melt. Hell, she reduced him to a callow schoolboy, a burning mass of raw emotions. All evening he had struggled unsuccessfully to bring himself under control. Every time one of the men ogled her, Drake felt irrational and raging jealousy pump through his blood. He wanted to kill the offending bastard, to shout to the world that Alex was his. She looked so damned beautiful tonight, like an enchanted fairy-tale princess. His burning emerald gaze caressed her face and shoulders, then settled on the deeply cut neckline that seemed to expose far too much of her throat and breasts.
He frowned, desire warring with jealousy, pride, anger, tenderness—all heightened to a fever pitch. “Your gown is rather revealing, is it not?” he inquired in a tight voice.
Alex blushed at his meaning, then lifted her chin defiantly. “I happen to adore this gown,” she retorted.
“So do I,” he agreed, his jaw set. “What little of it there is.”
Her eyes flashed, more so because he was right. “I am sorry that my attire displeases you, your grace.”
He stroked her thumb with his, though his mood was as fiery as hers. “Careful, princess,” he warned softly. “We are newly married and supposedly very happy. So smile and look totally besotted with me; hang on to my every word. All of our guests are watching us.”
Alex controlled her fury with great effort, aware that he was goading her. Apparently he was angry about something, perhaps her gown. But whatever the reason, his earlier good humor had vanished. She forced a smile to her lips and endured the remainder of the dance in tense silence.
The waltz ended, and Alex stepped away from her brooding husband.
“I will mingle with our guests now, Drake,” she told him, glancing about the room. Already her mind had returned to the problem at hand—uncovering the identity of the person who had attempted to take Drake’s life. “There is no need for you to dance with me, since I have obviously annoyed you. I will find other partners.” She lifted her skirts and moved off.
Drake caught her arm. “You will dance with me whenever I deem it necessary.”
