Lady Alexandra's Excellent Adventure: A Summersby Tale by Sophie Barnes Page A

he raised his hand to his rapidly bruising cheek.
    “And you bloody well deserved it,” she said, seething with rage.
    He supposed he did. Still, he never would have expected her to hit him . . . or to do it so painfully well. Besides, he hadn’t actually laughed, he’d just smiled . . . a bit more than usual perhaps. And he’d felt like laughing, but she couldn’t possibly know that, could she? Judging from her expression, perhaps she could read his mind. He met her eyes, and looked a bit deeper—beyond the anger—and what he saw filled him with guilt. She was hurt. He’d hurt her, and he’d never regretted anything more in his life.
    Blast!
    Rubbing her sore knuckles with her hand, she turned to go. He didn’t want her to—not with this bad air between them—he had to explain. She cursed under her breath and was just getting ready to step back into her room when he broke from his trance and reached for her wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. “Let go of me,” she cried in clear frustration as she tried to yank herself free.
    “Alex,” he said, pulling her toward him. “I’m sorry I laughed, truly I am . . . it was badly done of me and not at all meant as an insult. Please stay.” She eyed him skeptically, not at all ready to fall into his arms. Well, it seemed as if an explanation was in order. “The look on your face was so . . . well, you looked as if you were hoping I might kiss you, and it just seemed funny because . . . well, to be perfectly honest, you’re just about the last person I ever expected to find looking at me like that.”
    There, that should do it .
    The look on her face however, told him that he might be dangling over the railing in another second unless he did something drastic to alter her state of mind. With a quick tug, he drew her into his arms. Then, before she had the chance to launch into another verbal attack or give him yet another beating, he closed his mouth over hers.
    Heavenly .
    She struggled like a caged animal at first, but a heartbeat later, he felt the tension flow from her body and she sagged against him. He tightened his hold and pulled her closer, his right hand resting on the small of her back while the left remained upon her shoulder. She smelled of lavender.
    Testing the waters, he ran the tip of his tongue along her lips and felt her quiver—a delightful response that made his own pulse quicken. When she put her arms about his neck, he knew she wasn’t about to run away from him. He pulled back a little to take a look at her. Her eyes were still closed, her perfect lips slightly pursed from kissing. He ran the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone and watched her sigh in response. What a charming creature she was.
    Without another moment’s pause, he crushed his lips against hers.
    During the course of his life, Michael must have kissed at least a hundred women. But this was different. This was new and refreshing and it was . . . he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it felt better somehow. Strange choice of word perhaps, but there it was.
    Pressing her closer, he deepened the kiss with his tongue. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but then she sighed, allowing him to coax her tongue to follow.
    He’d know for a while now that he wanted to kiss Alexandra, but he never would have guessed just how captivating he would find it. In fact, he’d thought himself capable of keeping it brief, his only intention being to sample what she had to offer, but this was proving far more difficult than he’d anticipated. She was so soft and pliable beneath his touch—all traces of her prickly, tomboyish character completely evaporated, save for her choice of clothes. And he’d been overly surprised to discover that there was something quite erotic about the fact that she was wearing breeches. Her legs were clearly defined beneath them, but more importantly, so was her firm and perfectly rounded backside.
    His right hand drifted down to grasp onto one