“Hunters.” The vibration of the word spread down her spine and unfurled in the most alarming places. “Your lips, innocent as they are, beg to be kissed whenever I am near. Your tongue moistens them. Your teeth worry at them. And when I stare, as I am doing now, they soften and part, like an invitation…”
Stunned, Alexandra curled her lips around her teeth as if to hide them from him. Had he really gleaned all that from her mouth? Had her lips truly betrayed her so?
He paused, glancing up. “Your eyes are always afraid, though. I think it’s because you can sense I want to kiss you, too.”
“Y-you do?”
He nodded, his own lips melting into a soft smile at the abject astonishment in her question. “Since the moment we met on the train platform, I’ve dreamt of kissing you in more than a dozen ways.”
The sound she emitted was somewhere between a cough and a gasp. Were there more than a dozen ways to kiss? How many more?
“We … we shouldn’t be speaking of such things, Your Grace.” She turned away from him, suddenly trembling at the edge of an abyss, ready to leap into madness.
He drew close, never once touching her. But the heat and strength of him stretched beyond his physical being, threading through the night toward her, endangering her composure. Her resolve.
“It’s wrong, I know it,” he murmured, his voice containing an agony that tugged at her racing heart. “I’m to announce my engagement to your friend this very night, and all I can think of is what you’d taste like. I’m more of a monster than any scars or scandals I claim. But I’ve not kissed a woman since before the jaguar. I’ve not particularly wanted to until your lips drove me to distraction.”
Unable to hear any more, she whirled around. “Would you marry me?”
The idea had sparked like a fever, an idea that could fix everything. An idea that would release them all from the clutches of their sins.
All it would cost was her soul.
“What?” The question drove him backward.
A strangled sound emitted from the room containing her friends, but he didn’t seem to notice it.
Maybe it was the moon, the whisky, or the chance for redemption that steadied her. That gave her a voice through the throes of torturous tremors threatening to steal her knees from beneath her. But she was somehow able to repeat the question with much more conviction the second time.
“If I let you kiss me, Your Grace, would you accept me as your willing bride, rather than Francesca?”
His mouth fell open, deepening the crease of the scar there. “What are you on about, woman?”
This time, it was she who advanced upon his retreat. “You said it yourself. You don’t much care for Francesca. Nor she for you. You’ve admitted to wanting to kiss me, and so it stands to reason you might want to do more. To do … everything.”
“It … stands to reason?” he echoed.
Surrendering what was left of her pride, she said, “I find that I’m in need of a wealthy husband, as my family is bankrupt and at the mercy of their debtors. My father is … he’s not well. And so I hope you will consider my offer, as the daughter of an earl, an alternative to your present course of action.”
He turned away from her, but not before she caught the compress of his lips into a tight line. “It was the duchess stipend, then, that enticed you to make this most generous offer?” A hint of derision threaded into his words.
Alexandra had to clear nerves from her throat to answer. “I’ll not lie to you, sir, it was.”
Wasn’t it?
“Nothing else?” he pressed darkly.
“Nothing else, I assure you.” She hurried to put him at ease. “I’m not after the title of duchess, the prestige, nor do I have any false expectations of love or affection. This would purely be a business arrangement, much like you had with Francesca’s father. Funds in exchange for heirs. My family is notably fertile, and—”
“What about Francesca?” His hands tightened into fists as he pressed them into the banister, leaning all his weight out toward the darkness, as though prepared to jump. “You would do this to your friend?”
“I do this for her.” Alexandra took one more step forward. “You admitted yesterday morning that you don’t like her. And you only just mentioned that she’d rather kiss a toad than marry you. What kind of future is that for either of you?”
His chin touched his shoulder. “Has she said this to you?”
Alexandra flinched at his hard monotone. What if she’d read this entire situation all wrong? What if he had wanted Francesca more than he’d let on? “Not exactly in those words…”
Tension threaded into the muscles beneath his suit coat, further straining the seams. “What words did she use, exactly?”
“Well, I don’t want to be rude…” she hedged.
“I think we’re beyond propriety.”
She had to admit he’d a salient point.
“Francesca mentioned the rack as a favorable alternative to marriage.” At his gruff sound she hurried to amend. “Though I’m certain that would apply to any marriage. Not to you, specifically.”
He crossed his arms over his impressive chest, turning to lean a hip against the banister as he regarded her with eyes the color of the frigid winter sky. The very night held its breath alongside her. The breeze died, the curtains fell still, and her racing heart seized within her chest.
Finally, he spoke in tones only amplified by moonlight. “My lady, you’ve managed to transfix and trouble me all at once.”
“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing she could think of to say, and she was surprised that it touched his mouth with amusement.
“I’m inclined—no—I’m utterly tempted to accept your proposal. But I hope I do not offend you by saying I do not know enough of your character to take you by your word.”
“No offense taken,” she answered honestly. “Neither of us has a good measure of the other to assume any trust.”
“Then let me suggest an amendment to your proposition.”
“An amendment?” For the first time since they’d met, he truly sounded like a duke. All airs and graces.
“I will be at the top of the stairs in the grand ballroom at midnight, as per the original design. I will call everyone to attention and invite my future fiancée to join me for our inaugural dance.” He pushed away from the banister and closed the distance between them in languorous strides. “You will be standing next to Francesca at the foot of the stairs, and whichever one of you ascends to take my hand, she shall have it in marriage. I will then know that the other gives her blessing.”
It pleased her that, despite his desire, he did not wish to take what Francesca might not wish to forfeit. Despite his protestations to the contrary, it was easy, in that moment, to fashion him a good man.
“That is more than passing fair.” She stuck out her hand, exactly as she’d done at the train station. “I believe we’ve struck a bargain.”
This time, he didn’t hesitate to take her hand, but instead of shaking it, he drew her toward him.
She resisted. “What are you doing?”
“Why, I’m collecting my kiss.” He leaned lower, his eyes fixed upon her lips.