hand and drew her inside.
"This house belongs to Mister Carl yle's childhood friend, the Duke of Grandstone," he said as they stepped into the opulent foyer. "The Duke opens it for a few days once a year and let his close friends use it whenever they visit Bath."
At her reluctance to proceed any further, his fingers tightened around hers. "Don't worry—no one is here. The Duke and his family are in Cornwall."
Alexandra conceded and followed him inside. He showed her the spacious drawing room where the duke entertained his guests and gave her a quick tour of the rest of the richly appointed home. Finally, when he had run out of rooms to show her, he kissed her hand and asked if she minded staying in the house with him until it was time to depart.
"Not at all," she replied, happy to oblige and put her sore feet up, befo re she realized what he was truly asking of her.
"Oh, you meant..." She felt the warm flush bloom in her cheeks. The butterflies in her belly must have fluttered all at once, because she suddenly felt her gut turn inside out.
He did not reply. For what seemed like forever, he just looked at her.
She gulped. The intensity of his gaze revealed everything —the urgency, the daunting savagery, and potency of his desire.
Her entire body, all the way to the tips of her toes began to tremble. A mixture of fear and e lation chased through her mind. Fear—at the naked ruthlessness of the hunger evident in his eyes; elation—at the power she had over him for being the object of his passion.
The knowledge produced a contrasting wave of incertitude that swayed her self-confidence. Could she manage him —a man so virile, his sexuality surrounded him like an aura—and slake his exigent need, his fervid lust—more than once tonight?
She suppressed the mounting panic in her belly and lowered her lashes.
His gaze did not falter. She'd never seen him so grave —yet so earnest. He kept his silence, unsmiling as he riveted her in a disconcerting stare. His expression spoke for itself. She knew—he was waiting for her to decide if she would have him, or if she would change her mind and decline.
God help her —she would not. She would never refuse him. Ever . This time her resolve was stronger. She wanted him. Loved him. She was sure of that now. Nothing in the whole universe—not even herself—could stop her from being with him. No matter what came out of it, she had no wish to dwell on the consequences. She would not be one of those women who lived with regret, agonizing over the constant nagging in one's heart, wondering—what could have been. What should have been—what if?
No —not her. Not tonight.
She bravely lifted her eyes and returned his gaze with a look that spoke volumes of how she felt about him. Her speech had deserted her, but she did not care —there were simply no amount of words sufficient to justify how alarmingly in love she was with him.
He blinked, his gorgeous eyes softening. The tension left his face and he relaxed his shoulders. His adorable dimples appeared on his cheeks. She reached out and gently d ipped a forefinger in one.
He caught her wrist and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly on her rapidly beating pulse. Then, without another word, he led her to a bedchamber done in blue and gold.
~
Allayne watched Anna as he lit the fragrant logs in the fireplace. She moved about the palatial suite, touching a pillow, running a finger over the back of a chair, glancing at the gilt-painted ceiling, before finally peering out the window at the scenery below.
He went to her and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"It's so beautiful," she said breathlessly, admiring the view. The street lamps below illuminated the magnificent building as evening rolled in, casting the architectural masterpiece in a golden glow interspersed with mysterious
"This house belongs to Mister Carl yle's childhood friend, the Duke of Grandstone," he said as they stepped into the opulent foyer. "The Duke opens it for a few days once a year and let his close friends use it whenever they visit Bath."
At her reluctance to proceed any further, his fingers tightened around hers. "Don't worry—no one is here. The Duke and his family are in Cornwall."
Alexandra conceded and followed him inside. He showed her the spacious drawing room where the duke entertained his guests and gave her a quick tour of the rest of the richly appointed home. Finally, when he had run out of rooms to show her, he kissed her hand and asked if she minded staying in the house with him until it was time to depart.
"Not at all," she replied, happy to oblige and put her sore feet up, befo re she realized what he was truly asking of her.
"Oh, you meant..." She felt the warm flush bloom in her cheeks. The butterflies in her belly must have fluttered all at once, because she suddenly felt her gut turn inside out.
He did not reply. For what seemed like forever, he just looked at her.
She gulped. The intensity of his gaze revealed everything —the urgency, the daunting savagery, and potency of his desire.
Her entire body, all the way to the tips of her toes began to tremble. A mixture of fear and e lation chased through her mind. Fear—at the naked ruthlessness of the hunger evident in his eyes; elation—at the power she had over him for being the object of his passion.
The knowledge produced a contrasting wave of incertitude that swayed her self-confidence. Could she manage him —a man so virile, his sexuality surrounded him like an aura—and slake his exigent need, his fervid lust—more than once tonight?
She suppressed the mounting panic in her belly and lowered her lashes.
His gaze did not falter. She'd never seen him so grave —yet so earnest. He kept his silence, unsmiling as he riveted her in a disconcerting stare. His expression spoke for itself. She knew—he was waiting for her to decide if she would have him, or if she would change her mind and decline.
God help her —she would not. She would never refuse him. Ever . This time her resolve was stronger. She wanted him. Loved him. She was sure of that now. Nothing in the whole universe—not even herself—could stop her from being with him. No matter what came out of it, she had no wish to dwell on the consequences. She would not be one of those women who lived with regret, agonizing over the constant nagging in one's heart, wondering—what could have been. What should have been—what if?
No —not her. Not tonight.
She bravely lifted her eyes and returned his gaze with a look that spoke volumes of how she felt about him. Her speech had deserted her, but she did not care —there were simply no amount of words sufficient to justify how alarmingly in love she was with him.
He blinked, his gorgeous eyes softening. The tension left his face and he relaxed his shoulders. His adorable dimples appeared on his cheeks. She reached out and gently d ipped a forefinger in one.
He caught her wrist and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly on her rapidly beating pulse. Then, without another word, he led her to a bedchamber done in blue and gold.
~
Allayne watched Anna as he lit the fragrant logs in the fireplace. She moved about the palatial suite, touching a pillow, running a finger over the back of a chair, glancing at the gilt-painted ceiling, before finally peering out the window at the scenery below.
He went to her and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"It's so beautiful," she said breathlessly, admiring the view. The street lamps below illuminated the magnificent building as evening rolled in, casting the architectural masterpiece in a golden glow interspersed with mysterious
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