“Yes.”
He leaned closer, his body flush against hers now, and whispered, “If your father knew you were here he’d lock you up from now until your wedding day.”
“Do you really think that would stop me?”
Alex laughed. Laughed out loud, causing a passing maid to glance at them curiously. Damn, but Lucia was beautiful when she challenged him.
She gave him a wary smile. “Why don’t just admit you need me, Selbourne? We need each other. You needed me last night at the Seatons’, and you can use my help today.”
God, he had needed her last night but not in the way she meant. He’d lay in his cold bed last night thinking about her, imagining what he’d do to her if she’d been there, driving himself mad with wanting her. He couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman so much. Even now, just standing close to her aroused him. He heard the blood thrum in his ears, felt his body tense in readiness, imagined the taste of her on his lips. After his near lapse on the Seatons’ terrace last night, he could no longer deny that he wasn’t in full control of himself when in her presence.
He didn’t understand it. He’d never had any interest in virgins before. Dabbling with virgins was the fastest route to the parson’s mousetrap, as Dewhurst called matrimony. And ladies on the marriage market were troublesome, demanding, and poor companions for the pleasures he had in mind.
Unfortunately, too many of those pleasures came to mind of late.
Alex took a deep breath. Lucia stood before him now, the breeze outside Schweitzer & Davidson molding her skirts to her tall, willowy form. His fingers flexed, eager to touch her, touch the skin he knew was silky and warm as a kitten’s fur in the summer sun.
Bloody hell. He would conquer this. “Your participation in this investigation is entirely improper, Lucia,” he explained—again. “Even you admit you shouldn’t be seen with me.” Alex didn’t give a damn about social conventions, but if the French operatives knew who he was, anyone in his company could be in danger.
Lucia’s eyes darkened, reminding him of those Yorkshire storm clouds again. “Yes, and I’m sure this . . . exhibition isn’t helping matters.”
Alex leaned closer, ready to either kiss her or throttle her, then thought better of both options. Perhaps there was a better way. He glanced about. Cork Street was relatively deserted, but the sprinkle of passersby would be enough to make his point.
With deliberate slowness, Alex leaned closer and rubbed his cheek against hers. She stiffened, and her gaze darted past him to the street.
“I’ll ruin your reputation, sweetheart,” he whispered. There was her scent again, the cinnamon and vanilla conjuring memories of a time when life was simple and untainted. He breathed in her ear, and her stiffness melted away in a shiver.
“My brother is more important.”
Alex grinned. Her voice had become a squeak. “And I’ll find your brother. My way. Using any means necessary. I won’t be concerned with propriety.”
“I understand,” she whispered.
“Do you? Your virtue is in danger if you continue our association.” He pressed his cheek against hers again, enjoying the velvet contrast of her skin on his. Turning his head, he placed his lips on the sensitive flesh near her earlobe. “And if you insist on accompanying me, I’ll take you where no lady should go. Houses of pleasure, dens of iniquity, my bed.” His lips grazed the skin of her earlobe. With a gasp, she clutched the lapels of his coat, and he bent to kiss her neck just under her dangling gold earring where her pulse throbbed.
He moved a fraction of an inch, his heart pounding, his blood pounding, his head pounding. He frowned. The window pounding? Alex’s head shot up, and behind Lucia, Lord Alfred Dewhurst waved jovially from the shop window.
“Damn!”
Alex jerked away from Lucia, regret seizing him when he saw her flushed cheeks and her eyes dark with arousal. Bloody hell. All he’d wanted was to scandalize her enough so that she’d abandon the ridiculous idea of helping him find her brother. He hadn’t meant it to go this far—not here in the street, at any rate—but he should have known nothing with Lucia ever went according to plan.
A bell tinkled, and behind her, Dewhurst opened the shop door.
“Selbourne, old boy!” Freddie strode forward, smile smug. “Are you coming in, or are you going to stand about in the street all day?”
Alex scowled. “Coming in.” He turned back to Lucia. “Miss Lucia Dashing, Lord Alfred Dewhurst.”
“Lord Dewhurst?” Lucia blinked, put a hand to her hair, and gave a belated curtsy. “A—a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Freddie swept off his hat and gave a low bow, tossing Alex a wicked grin as he did so. “Miss Dashing. The pleasure is all mine.” He bowed again. “In fact, I would have made your acquaintance much sooner had your brother and father allowed me close enough for an introduction.”
“Freddie.” Alex frowned a warning at his friend.
Freddie waved a hand at him, lace at the sleeve fluttering, and offered his arm to Lucia. “Miss Dashing, would you do me the honor of—”
Before he even knew what he was doing, Alex swept forward, intercepted her hand, and placed it on his own arm.
“All right, all right, Dewhurst. No need to practice your charms on my in-laws.”
