in one another’s arms.
In his arms, she felt…beautiful. She forgot that she was short of stature and a bit too plump for Society’s dictates. Forgot that she had a smattering of freckles along the bridge of a slightly bumped nose.
She moaned, which allowed him to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She stiffened at the unexpectedness of the sensation, until a wave of heat crashed over her, engulfing her in a conflagration. Alexandra tentatively touched her tongue to his. When he groaned in approval, she responded in earnest.
She twined her hands about his neck and angled her head to better avail herself to the full onslaught of his expert kiss. She wanted more. Needed more. But didn’t know what more was.
Then just like that, he set her away from him. The sound of harsh, fast breathing filled the room. Nathan’s chest rose and fell; her heart raced. She couldn’t say whose breath it was.
He devoured her with one long, lingering stare, as if he were attempting to ingrain the image of her on his memory. “Goodbye, Alexandra,” he said softly.
And then he was gone.
Alexandra stood rooted to the spot he’d left her, chilled by trepidation and uncertainty. An ominous shriek rent the air, followed by the quick rhythmic click of boot steps, cementing the fear in her belly.
Her father, the portly Marquess of Tewkesbury, filled the doorway, his face florid with barely suppressed rage, her mother sobbing at his side. He brandished a paper in his hand.
“What—”
“Where is that scoundrel?” her father bellowed and took a quick turn around the parlor, his eyes conducting a sweeping scan of the room.
“Mother?” Alexandra looked to her pleadingly.
Her mother was incapable of words and instead shook her head and blubbered into a handkerchief.
Her father strode over to Alexandra and thrust the paper at her. “Here,” he barked.
With hands that shook, she unfolded the copy of the Times .
Her father jabbed a finger halfway down the front page. “Take a read there. That’s the gentleman you fell in love with.”
Fear stabbed at her, making it difficult to breathe. In spite of her father shaking the paper at her and insisting she read the damning story in print, and despite her mother’s noisy sobbing, Alexandra couldn’t make her fingers move to accept the paper.
“Take it!”
She took it and…
Lord W reported that the Earl of P placed a wager in the books at White’s with the timeline of when he’d wed Lady A, the granddaughter of the Duke of D. The information recorded by Lord P was—never.
A whistle hissed from between Alexandra’s teeth, as the paper fluttered uselessly from her fingers, spilling to a miserable heap on the floor.
“Whatever shall we do?” her mother cried. “How will we ever show our faces out in Society? That cad has marked you as unmarriageable, ruined your name, Alexandra.”
Alexandra watched her mother’s mouth moving, heard her father’s rambling tirade, but could not process either of the thoroughly confounding words. The sting of betrayal robbed her of clear thought.
“I must send around our regrets for Lord and Lady Williams’ annual ball. Oh, and you do know how I so love Lady Williams’s soiree.”
Her mother’s pronouncement only vaguely registered through the thick haze of confusion Alexandra moved through. “No.”
Her father folded his arms across his chest, eying her with a mocking condescension. “No? After he’s made a laughingstock of your name, you’d still show your face in front of Society.”
Alexandra tossed her shoulders back and squared her jaw. “Yes.”
That was just what she would do.
Because of both her mother’s friendship with Lady Williams’s and her desire to attend one of the most revered social events of the winter, Alexandra had convinced her they should continue with their plans of attending Lady Williams’s ball. Alexandra couldn’t quite stifle a sense of guilt. Her intentions for the evening were not
In his arms, she felt…beautiful. She forgot that she was short of stature and a bit too plump for Society’s dictates. Forgot that she had a smattering of freckles along the bridge of a slightly bumped nose.
She moaned, which allowed him to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She stiffened at the unexpectedness of the sensation, until a wave of heat crashed over her, engulfing her in a conflagration. Alexandra tentatively touched her tongue to his. When he groaned in approval, she responded in earnest.
She twined her hands about his neck and angled her head to better avail herself to the full onslaught of his expert kiss. She wanted more. Needed more. But didn’t know what more was.
Then just like that, he set her away from him. The sound of harsh, fast breathing filled the room. Nathan’s chest rose and fell; her heart raced. She couldn’t say whose breath it was.
He devoured her with one long, lingering stare, as if he were attempting to ingrain the image of her on his memory. “Goodbye, Alexandra,” he said softly.
And then he was gone.
Alexandra stood rooted to the spot he’d left her, chilled by trepidation and uncertainty. An ominous shriek rent the air, followed by the quick rhythmic click of boot steps, cementing the fear in her belly.
Her father, the portly Marquess of Tewkesbury, filled the doorway, his face florid with barely suppressed rage, her mother sobbing at his side. He brandished a paper in his hand.
“What—”
“Where is that scoundrel?” her father bellowed and took a quick turn around the parlor, his eyes conducting a sweeping scan of the room.
“Mother?” Alexandra looked to her pleadingly.
Her mother was incapable of words and instead shook her head and blubbered into a handkerchief.
Her father strode over to Alexandra and thrust the paper at her. “Here,” he barked.
With hands that shook, she unfolded the copy of the Times .
Her father jabbed a finger halfway down the front page. “Take a read there. That’s the gentleman you fell in love with.”
Fear stabbed at her, making it difficult to breathe. In spite of her father shaking the paper at her and insisting she read the damning story in print, and despite her mother’s noisy sobbing, Alexandra couldn’t make her fingers move to accept the paper.
“Take it!”
She took it and…
Lord W reported that the Earl of P placed a wager in the books at White’s with the timeline of when he’d wed Lady A, the granddaughter of the Duke of D. The information recorded by Lord P was—never.
A whistle hissed from between Alexandra’s teeth, as the paper fluttered uselessly from her fingers, spilling to a miserable heap on the floor.
“Whatever shall we do?” her mother cried. “How will we ever show our faces out in Society? That cad has marked you as unmarriageable, ruined your name, Alexandra.”
Alexandra watched her mother’s mouth moving, heard her father’s rambling tirade, but could not process either of the thoroughly confounding words. The sting of betrayal robbed her of clear thought.
“I must send around our regrets for Lord and Lady Williams’ annual ball. Oh, and you do know how I so love Lady Williams’s soiree.”
Her mother’s pronouncement only vaguely registered through the thick haze of confusion Alexandra moved through. “No.”
Her father folded his arms across his chest, eying her with a mocking condescension. “No? After he’s made a laughingstock of your name, you’d still show your face in front of Society.”
Alexandra tossed her shoulders back and squared her jaw. “Yes.”
That was just what she would do.
Because of both her mother’s friendship with Lady Williams’s and her desire to attend one of the most revered social events of the winter, Alexandra had convinced her they should continue with their plans of attending Lady Williams’s ball. Alexandra couldn’t quite stifle a sense of guilt. Her intentions for the evening were not
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