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He placed a finger under her chin and tilted it up. The sheen in her eyes tore at his heart. “Dear girl, I came here foryou. Now, tell me. Why are you in your room?”
She shook her head. “It’s so silly. Really.”
“Tell me.” He gripped her shoulders and leaned his head closer to hers. Lord, had her eyes always been such a brilliant shade of green? However had he not noticed?
“It was only something Lord Exeter said,” she demurred. “He was trying to be funny. I think.”
“What did he say to you?”
Lottie’s eyes widened at his dark tone, then she looked away. “He remarked on the number of guests in attendance, then said they all must have come to get a glimpse of Sir Alfred, as I certainly wasn’t the draw,” she explained with a wince, flushing with embarrassment at the memory. “He’s right, of course. I’m hardly the most promising debutante of the season, but he said it in front of so many people. And most of them laughed…”
Alec inhaled slowly, controlling the anger that suddenly thundered through him. Her familiar rosewater scent further calmed him. “He’s not a wit. He’s anass.Forget about him.”
Lottie’s lips parted in shock, but then her gaze turned adoring. Alec nearly lost his breath. She hadn’t looked at him quite like that since she was a young girl. He’d forgotten how powerful her admiration made him feel. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled with a dangerous new awareness.
He patted her arm. “Come. I want a waltz.” The idea of going back downstairs where any man could dance with her, touch her, whisper sweet words to her, was suddenly unbearable. But they needed to get out of this room before he was tempted to keep her there.
“Oh, no. I feel so silly now—”
Alec grabbed her hand and pressed his thumb against her wrist. Her pulse was steady, strong, and swift. “Please, Lottie. Do it for an old man like me.” He moved his thumb in small circles and her heart beat even faster. As she stared at him, the very nature of the air seemed to change. They were no longer Lottie and Alec, but something more. Something that had been building for years, steadily growing without either of them noticing. But it had been there all along, biding its time. In every letter, every charged silence, every accidental touch.
And Alec could no longer ignore it.
“All right,” she said softly.
He smiled and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was. Because it always had been.
Alec let her enter the ballroom a few minutes ahead of him to avoid any hint of a scandal, then proceeded to dance with her not once, but three times. Sir Alfred’s frown seemed to deepen a little more with every turn, but Alec was tired of living to please that man. Not if he could live to please someone else.
As the night wore on, Alec laughed harder than he had in ages, while Lottie radiated with a happiness he hadn’t seen in years. And slowly, all his reservations dimmed. Though he bore no title, was not even recognized by his own family, and had no inheritance beyond the pittance his father’s copyright earned, he had a world-class education and, more important, a driving hunger to succeed. Perhaps that could be enough.
By the end of their final waltz, Alec had made a decision. He drew Lottie a touch closer than propriety deemed appropriate and lowered his voice. “May I call on you tomorrow morning, before I return to Scotland?”
She beamed up at him. “Of course. Did you think to slip away without saying a proper goodbye?”
Alec grinned. “I could neverdreamof doing such a thing.”
If there was even the slightest chance she would have him, he was going to marry Lottie Carlisle one day. And no one would stop him.
Chapter Five
Alec awoke to purple dawn breaking across the Tuscan sky and a nasty crick in his neck. He was twenty-eight. Far too old to sleep on a cold stone floor. He sat up with a grunt and rubbed his throbbing shoulder. A bullet had gone clean through the top over two years ago during a skirmish in a Turkish market, and Alec was usually fastidious about the injury, but that simply hadn’t been possible last night. Then his eyes fell on the very reason for his negligence.
Lottie slept peacefully, her hair splayed across the pillows like a lush, russet crown.
He had risked his life countless times over, fought hand-to-hand with men hell-bent on killing him, looked death straight in its black, bloodless eye, and he had always kept his head. But catching just a glimpse of Lottie behind the dressing screen last night, knowing how close he was to her barely clad figure, had strung him tighter than a bow. Hours later and he was still ready to snap. He felt like the favored target of a vengeful, ancient God. Having his heart cut out every night only to awaken and find it whole again.
Alec imagined climbing in beside her and drawing her sleeping form against his chest. He would bury his face against her neck, her hair, her soft skin, and wake his wild maiden slowly with gentle kisses until she gave him a drowsy, knowing smile. Then he would roll her body beneath his own and all her treasures would finally be his.
If only they could stay right here, forever.
Alec pressed his head against his palms and breathed deeply, ridding the fantasy from his mind. For that was all it was. He certainly hadn’t imagined Lottie’s full-bodied flinch when he held her hand last night, nor the look of sheer terror when she thought they might have had to share a bed. And thank God for that.
All he had to do was bring her to London. They could be there in four days. If he bungled this up in any way, Sir Alfred could end his career. Then Alec would truly be left with nothing.
Their past hadn’t mattered in five bloody years. And it couldn’t matter now. He had responsibilities that went far beyond his pitiful, boyish desires. Keeping Lottie safe, and safe from him, was chief among them.
“This is an assignment,” Alec muttered. “An assignment. An assignment…”
