“Oh, yes, I forgot.” She sighed and turned in his arms. “You want to look the devil himself, and you often succeed with those black looks you give me.”
“If I give you black looks, it’s only because you deserve them.”
She sat up. “And how did I deserve them at Ethan and Francesca’s wedding? You nearly scared me to death with your stern, elderly expressions.”
“Elderly?” He chuckled. “I was—what— twenty-four?”
“I thought you were quite old and decrepit,” she lied.
“And I thought you were a brat who needed a spanking.”
“I probably did.”
“And wouldn’t I have loved to be the one to give it to you. Even then I wanted you.”
Lucia’s breath caught and her heart hammered in her chest. “I thought you didn’t notice me,” she whispered.
“That’s because you were fourteen, and ignoring you was the best way to keep my hands off you,” he murmured, lips close to her ear. “You were dangerous then.”
“And now?” she breathed, afraid to hear his answer.
His mouth met hers in the dark. It was a gentle kiss, tender, and full of checked passion. When she tried to deepen it, he pulled away.
“This is all there is now,” Lucia said. “I’ll marry Dandridge and you’ll—do what you do, and we’ll nod at each other at balls, and you’ll never touch me again.” She heard the sob in her voice and tried to swallow the tears. A year from now she’d see him leading some other girl onto a dark terrace, and she’d wonder if he kissed that girl the way he’d kissed her last night.
“It might be like that, but you might also marry a man you respect and forget about me.”
Lucia wanted to laugh. Forget Alex? That would be like forgetting she had five fingers on her hand. He was too much a part of her now.
“You don’t have to marry Dandridge, Lucia.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, pulling away from him. “I can’t cry off. If I did, my family—”
“Are you going to live your whole life trying to please your father? You never will if you’re always trying to be something you’re not.”
She gasped and sat back, stunned. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, stunned by how accurately he had seen the whole situation. Her first impulse was to deny it, deny everything, but she couldn’t. All her life she’d been trying to please others. She resented it, and resented her family for forcing her into a mold she didn’t fit. But she was also afraid—afraid of the consequences of not pleasing them. Hot tears welled up, stinging her eyes, burning like the pain in her heart. Who was he to judge her?
“Lucia.” Alex touched her arm, but she jerked away. “I don’t want to see you make a mistake.”
“Oh, I think it’s far too late for that.” She could almost feel Alex flinch at her words. They both knew she was talking about him. He had hurt her, and she wanted to hurt him back. But not like this.
“Alex—” she began, reaching for him. But her arm froze, and she twisted to face the door.
“Footsteps?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God, Alex.” She rose shakily to her feet. “The ship’s docked.” He swore and was instantly on his feet, legs braced apart, ready. “Stay close to me. Do exactly as I tell you.” He moved in front of her, his body caging hers.
The footsteps paused, and a key rattled deafeningly in the lock, then a sliver of light sliced through the darkness as the door creaked open.
Chapter Twenty
Three men crowded into the small cabin, and Lucia clutched at Alex’s back. Two of the men held pistols and another a lantern. “Don’t try anything, Selbourne,” one of the men rasped in French. “We’re armed.”
“Go ahead and kill me. They’ll be one less spy to try in Paris.” Alex’s voice was indifferent, but from the way his muscles bunched beneath her fingers, she knew he was as tense as she.
“Then we’ll just hurt you real bad.” The man chuckled. Lucia peeked at him and saw he wore a patch over his left eye. Alex yawned and spread his arms in invitation.
