Helen Dickson - Carrying The Gentleman's Secret

She watched his smile. It was a most appealing smile. Her resolve hardened automatically at the sight of it. After today she knew well enough what degree of complicity an appealing smile was able to conceal. Henry had taught her to discount any warmth she might feel for another human being. To feel that way led to weakness, which could be fatal.

Hot colour flooded her cheeks and she took a step back abruptly. ‘Either I am mad, sir, or you are,’ she said, keeping her voice low so as not to overheard by others drifting in and out of the hall. ‘What kind of woman do you think I am? I do not want to sound ungrateful for your kind attention, but I feel that now you are either carrying gallantry too far or pitying me to the extreme.’

‘I am not being gallant, Miss Brook, nor do I pity you,’ he said, his eyes held by this vibrant, graceful woman who was so close he only had to raise his hand to touch her. ‘That has nothing to do with it. I assure you I am completely serious.’ He spoke softly, so cool, so self-assured, holding her gaze.

‘Yes, I can see you are, and if you wonder at my decision to turn you down it is because I have a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.’

‘Not so well developed, otherwise you would have seen through Henry from the beginning,’ he murmured.

‘No doubt you think that because Henry picked me up from the back streets of London I am fair game. You are mistaken. How can you suggest anything so improper? I am not a whore. I am not for sale. If you were any sort of gentleman, you would not have said what you just did.’

The savagery in her tone startled Alex. ‘It was merely a suggestion. I thought that after all that has happened today you might not want to be alone.’

‘I like my own company, Mr Golding. Henry has turned out to be most unworthy. If I agreed to what you suggest, I could well be uniting myself with another equally unworthy.’

Alex’s jaw tightened, and he stepped away from her. So, she thought she could impose on him with her ladylike airs. But then, furious with himself, more than with her, after all she had been through that day, he understood how insulted she must feel by his improper suggestion. ‘If you are going to cast doubt on my good intentions, then there is nothing more for me to do than bid you goodnight and wish you a safe journey.’

‘Goodnight, Mr Golding,’ she said in a shaky, breathless voice, trying to ignore the dull ache of disappointment in her chest, regretting this new turn of events that had ruined the closeness that had developed between them throughout the meal.

Alex looked at her face, drawn by the candlelight reflecting softly in the depths of her eyes and the appealing pink of her lips slightly parted to reveal shining white teeth. His conscience rising up to do battle at what he had suggested, he tried flaying his thoughts into obedience, but he could smell her perfume in the air, which weakened his resolve.

He had known and made love to many beautiful women, but he could not remember wanting any of them on first acquaintance as he wanted Lydia Brook. What was it about her that he found so appealing? Her sincerity? Her innocence? Her smile that set his heart pounding like that of an inexperienced youth in the first throes of love? He told himself that what he felt was the ache of frustrated desire, but whatever it was he could not deny that she affected him deeply. Almost without conscious thought, as she was about to turn away he found himself reaching for her.

Lydia was surprised when he suddenly took hold of her arm and drew her into a curtained alcove beneath the stairs. The light was muted, the space small, forcing them together. She gave a sharp jerk, trying to pull herself free, but his arms went around her, drawing her close.

‘Please,’ she gasped, lifting her head and dragging her eyes past his finely sculpted mouth to meet his gaze, suspecting he was going to kiss her. ‘This should not be happening.’ Raising his hand, he gently brushed her cheek with the tip of his finger, moving it down with sensuous slowness. Her skin grew warm with pleasure.

‘I know,’ he said, bending his head to whisper quietly against her hair, and she impulsively turned her head slightly to meet his cheek with her own. ‘Just one kiss, Miss Brook. Where’s the harm in that?’ The contact with her flesh was electric. He raised his head, his smouldering eyes gazing down at her face as if he were memorising it, then they fixed on her lips.

Quite inexplicably Lydia’s heart gave a leap of desire and, when her gaze settled on his mouth, she was lulled into a curious sense of well-being by his closeness as a rush of warmth completely pervaded her and her lovely eyes became blurred. ‘Just a kiss, then,’ she whispered.

‘Just a kiss, Miss Brook,’ he murmured in a husky whisper.

Very slowly, he lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her face. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, and at his touch Lydia trembled slightly—with fear or with excitement, she didn’t know which—but she did not draw away as he lowered his head the final few inches, and placed his mouth on her soft, quivering lips, cherishing them with his own, slowly and so very tenderly. His gentleness kindled a response and a warm glow spread over her, but also a fear began to possess her, a fear not of him but of herself and the dark, hidden feelings he aroused within her.

Suddenly his arms encircled her and she was drawn closer to his hard chest, moulding her body to his rigid contours. A flame of white heat rushed through her. She allowed him to hold her in his embrace, feeling the strength of him against her as slowly his warm parted lips, tender and insistent, continued to claim hers, moulding, caressing and possessive.

The shock of his kiss was one of wild, indescribable sweetness and sensuality, violent yet tender, evoking feelings Lydia had never felt before. She felt her body ignite as she responded eagerly, pressing herself closer still and opening her mouth to receive his. He smelled of brandy and cologne, and it intoxicated her senses. Blood pounded through her veins and her stomach tensed, but she didn’t try to move away. Imprisoned by his protective embrace and seduced by his mouth and strong, caressing hands, which slid down the curve of her spine to the swell of her buttocks and back to her arms, her neck, burning wherever they touched, Lydia clung to him, her body responding eagerly, melting with the primitive sensations that went soaring through her. Nothing in all her twenty years could have prepared her for his kiss and she became lost in the joy, the heat and the magic of the moment.

A soft moan interrupted the quiet space, and Lydia realised it came from her. Suddenly her world had become exquisitely sensual, where nothing mattered but this man and what his mouth locked hungrily on hers and the closeness of his body was doing to her.

Alex held her unresisting, pliant young body close, his lips caressing her cheek, her jaw, before finding her lips once more. He was a virile and an extremely masculine man, well used to the pleasures of the flesh that were available to him. But this woman confounded him. She was pure, untouched innocence, a woman who had never known a man’s intimate embrace. As her mouth fed his hunger, his body strained towards her.

When he finally released her lips they were both breathing heavily. Standing unmoving, as though still suspended in that kiss, her lips moist and slightly parted, slowly Lydia began to surface from the dangerous cocoon of sensuality where the absolute splendour of his kiss had sent her and where she had no control over anything.

Tenderly, Alex caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She was utterly lovely, breathtakingly so, and he was moved by emotions almost beyond his control, wanting so very much to kiss her again, but this time with all the hunger and passion that threatened to engulf him. He told himself to slow down, to be content with what she was willing to permit, not to push her into anything, but at that moment his desire was to continue to be close to her, to savour the sweetness of her. He was seized by an uncontrollable compulsion to make love to her—reluctant to allow this glorious young woman to slip through his fingers. He cupped her face in his strong hands, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and tilting her face to his.