Ever since last night, Alec had burned to touch her again, to taste her luscious mouth and feel those trembling arms clinging to his neck as her rose water scent engulfed him. Now he’d have his chance.
“Very well.” Approaching him with more boldness than sense, Katherine lifted her face. “Take your cursed ‘reward’ and let’s go.”
Foolish female. If she believed she could get around him that easily, she was in for a surprise. Alec wasn’t about to let her play with him and escape unscathed.
With a chuckle he clasped her chin, taking a moment to relish the fine softness of her skin. Then he ran his thumb over her lower lip with a sensuous stroke. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I start to kiss you, you hear your mother on the stairs, and it’s over before it even begins.” He dropped his hand. “Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll choose when, where, and how to take my kiss.”
The flash of alarm in her face settled into annoyance quick enough. “As you wish, Alexander the Great. So when will that be?”
“I’ll let you know.” He grinned, then bent his head until his mouth hovered so close to her ear that he could smell the rose water in her hair. “But don’t worry, my demanding Miss Merivale—I promise not to bring you home without one.”
She jumped back so quickly that she nearly tripped over the tea table, and the becoming blush staining her cheeks told him all he needed to know. She wanted him to kiss her, whether she’d admit it or not.
Donning her I’m-a-proper-miss-and-don’t-you-forget-it expression, she turned toward the door. “Then we might as well go. If we leave now, we’ll have just enough time to make it.”
“Make what?” her mother demanded from the doorway, the requested pink shawl trailing from her arm.
Panic leaped instantly in Katherine’s face. Her eyes cast Alec a silent appeal he was sorely tempted to ignore. But that wouldn’t gain him anything.
He flashed her mother a cordial smile. “Make a…er…present. I was just telling your daughter about the gift I had made up for you at the Soho Bazaar.”
“Really?” A girlish smile lit Mrs. Merivale’s features.
Actually, he’d had it made up for Katherine, but under the circumstances…
Reaching into his coat pocket, he drew out a painted fan. “The man was painting scenes by request, so I thought of what you said last night about enjoying London balls and…voilà.”With a little flourish, he offered it to her.
“Why, Lord Iversley, how thoughtful of you.” She examined the sticks with a mercenary eye. “Carved ivory, very nice. It must have cost you a pretty penny.”
Thank God the woman didn’t know ivory from bone.
Mrs. Merivale opened the fan, then frowned. “But the couple is dancing alone on a balcony.” She peered at it. “Ithinkthey’re dancing. I can’t quite—”
“There was no time to paint more than two figures,” Alec put in hastily, hoping she wouldn’t notice until later that the couple was kissing. “But I’m sure every fellow who dances with you wishes he had you all to himself.”
Mrs. Merivale laughed her raucous laugh and told him he was a shameless flirt, but at least no more questions ensued about their destination.
The shawl was proffered and refused by Katherine, who said she’d decided against it. Moments later they headed down the steps with a maidservant to serve as a chaperone. Fortunately, he’d used some of his meager funds to hire an extra pony. By God, this courtship business got more expensive by the hour.
“That fan wasn’t intended for my mother, was it?” Katherine whispered, as they descended the stairs.
Pleased that she’d figured it out, he cast her a look of mock outrage. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
“I’m accusing you of doing whatever suits your wicked purposes.” But a small smile graced her lush lips, sending a hot rush of need straight to his loins.
“You were the only one to benefit from it.”
“True.” Her smile broadening, she squeezed his arm. “Thank you, not only for agreeing to take me to the reading, but for hiding it from Mama.”
Pure mischief seized him. “Does that mean I gettworewards later?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Too bad. Now I’ll have to make the one be worth all my trouble.”
Chapter Seven
One act of gallantry is worth any number of compliments.
