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“It is not all romance. I have made grave mistakes and, no doubt, caused a great deal of pain and anguish to my family. My father in particular had grand expectations that would have been cruelly spoiled by my behavior.”
“Yes, any parent can be disappointed. But, you have lived. May I ask how old you are? I only ask because you look so young to have experienced such adventure.”
“An impertinent question to be certain but…I am eight and twenty years old this year,” Harold told her. “Enough years to waste in the dives of Europe and then on its battlefields before returning to England to face my duty.”
“You were a soldier too?” Alice said breathlessly.
Harold held up a hand. “Yes, but there I draw the line. See romance and adventure in the mistakes of a callow youth if you wish. But the work of a soldier is no tale for young maidens. It is too serious for that. Far too…real, I fear.”
Alice’s face became serious then and she nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to make light of it. Harold, you must know that in just a few minutes of conversation with you, I have glimpsed a much larger world than I have ever known before. I fear that I got carried away.”
Harold smiled, finding himself leaning towards her once again. “Forgive me, Alice. It is a…sore subject for me. But you weren’t to know that. I should not have snapped.”
“You didn’t. Merely set me straight when I was being impudent. That is entirely fair,” Alice said.
There was a strength to her that, set against her feminine delicacy, was intensely attractive. Harold felt that he wanted to control her, physically dominate her. But at the same time, he wanted to protect her, shield her from all the injustices of the world and the cruelties of the society into which she had just been introduced. It was a curious contrast of emotions. The desire to roughly tear her dress from her body, and the need to hold and protect her.
Light flooded into the room once more as the doors to the library were flung wide.
“Alice?” came a man’s voice. “Alice? Are you in here?”
Footsteps came into the room and before either Harold or Alice could move, a man appeared at the end of the bookcase. He stopped dead at the sight of them, heads inclined towards each other, hands inches from touching. Anger swept over his face, at first directed towards Alice, who leaped to her feet.
“Alice! What on earth do you think…?” he began.
Then his gaze fell onto Harold. For a moment, his mouth hung open as his eyes bulged and his face darkened. Harold rose smoothly. This was the man he had seen escorting Alice down the stairs and he presumed must be a close relative. A brother, probably. As far as he knew, he had never met the man but was curious about the extreme reaction that his presence seemed to have caused.
“Get away from her!” the man roared.
“Simon!” Alice cried. “What has gotten into you?”
Simon strode towards Alice and seized her by the arm, wrenching her away from Harold.
“Calm yourself, sir,” Harold said, exercising tight control over a surge of anger at seeing Alice manhandled so.
Alice was trying to free herself from Simon’s grasp and he tugged her wrist so hard that she stumbled and fell against the bookcase. Harold’s control slipped and he reacted without thinking, lunging forward, and tearing Simon’s grip free of his sister. At the same time, he delivered a backhanded slap to Simon’s cheek. Alice gasped, her hand going to her mouth as Simon staggered, steadying himself with a hand against the bookshelf.
Harold breathed through gritted teeth, feeling the call to action setting his blood afire.
No! This cannot be. I am not that man. And I do not start fights in libraries.
He turned to Alice and offered a hand. In contrast to Simon, whose fingers trembled where they touched the cheek that had been struck, Harold’s hand was steady as a rock.
“I do not know what your brother is so afraid of,” Harold said, intending the words to be a further stinging blow. “But, I am sorry this has happened on your special evening. Let me help you up.”
Alice took his hand. It was the first direct contact between them. Her fingers were soft, impossibly soft, and warm in his grip. He felt that his own hand was a giant paw by comparison to her delicacy. She pressed her fingers against his, eyes meeting his and holding long enough for a silent message to be delivered.
“Thank you, Harold. I do not know what has gotten into him either. Perhaps he has mistaken you for another.”
“I mistake him for no man other than who he is. A rogue and a blackguard!” Simon snapped. “Alice, you will come with me and you will not see this man again.”
CHAPTER9
Alice moved to her brother’s side, glaring at him. Harold placed his hands behind his back, as much to keep a grip on himself as to show Simon he intended no more violence. His stomach churned from the lack of control he had demonstrated.
How long has it been since that has happened? All that time, keeping myself under tight control and it is all undone. And by what? A beautiful face?
There was more to it than that. Harold knew the limit of the self-control he exercised. Pretty faces were ten-a-penny. Alice was far more than that. Beautiful and innocent and adventurous. An uncommon woman.
