Alexander blinked. This young woman was no angel. More like a devil sent from hell to plague him!
He reminded himself that, in fact, he did not have the time for this conversation with Angelina Hawkins now. His dinner guests were political allies and their wives, and Alexander had already been absent from their company longer than was polite. He would find out the answers he required later. “Thompson will indeed show you to the blue salon.” He turned to give the butler a pointed stare before moving his reproving gaze back to Angelina. “I will join you there once my guests have departed, and then we shall talk further on this matter,” he assured her grimly.
Her eyes widened. “Talk, Alexander? But I had thought—”
Alexander did not care to hear what this young woman “thought”—although her overfamiliarity and habit of launching herself into his arms at will was beginning to give him a fair indication of what some of those thoughts might be!
Chapter Two
Angelina was having the most wonderful dream. Of lying on a bed. Of being held in Alexander’s arms. His strong, muscled arms…
Her own arms moved up over his shoulders and her fingers became entangled in the dark thickness of his hair as she pulled him down to her and pressed her parted lips against his, before kissing him with warmth and passion.
Alexander, having finally rid himself of his last guest at almost two o’clock in the morning, had entered the blue salon to find Angelina fast asleep on the sofa. His efforts to wake her had proved fruitless. As it was already so late that any chance of removing her from the house, without causing a monumental scandal, was out of the question, he had decided that he had no choice but to carry her up the stairs and deposit her in one of the bedchambers on the floor above.
Only now he found himself being pulled down beside her as he placed her upon the bed! Her arms encircled his shoulders and her fingers threaded through his hair as she pressed her warm, parted lips against his. To both his dismay and delight, her actions sent a fiercely hot lick of desire coursing through his body.
“Xander?” Angelina groaned in protest as he pulled back in shock at his response. Her blue eyes were reproachful as she raised sleepy lids to look up at him. “Do you not wish to kiss me?”
Alexander scowled down at her as he was prevented from rising to his feet by her fingers still linked together beneath the loosened hair at his nape.
Angelina had removed her bonnet some time before falling asleep, revealing her gloriously golden curls. Her brow was smooth and creamy and her deep blue eyes were looking up at him in seductive invitation. Her mouth was full and sensual, and her neck long and slender above the full swell of her breasts, the low neckline of the peach gown having slipped so that it almost revealed her nipples.
“Kiss me, Xander,” she encouraged throatily as she pulled him toward her once more.
Beautiful and willing as Angelina undoubtedly was, Alexander knew he ought to stop this right now. To demand an explanation for the obvious invitation in her behavior.
Perhaps he had overindulged in the port following dinner and his wits had momentarily deserted him? Or perhaps it was just that the invitingly sensuous pout of Angelina’s lips cried out to be kissed? Just as the slender curves of her body begged to be crushed against his much harder ones! Whatever the reason—or perhaps excuse—instead of pushing Angelina Hawkins firmly away from him and leaving the bedchamber as he knew he should, Alexander found himself unable to do anything but draw her more fully into his arms.
Angelina moaned low in her throat as she felt the firmness of Alexander’s lips against her own, parting them to deepen the kiss as he pulled her roughly toward him.
Oh, how glorious it was to be kissed at last! By Alexander. It was so much more intimate, so much more arousing, than Angelina had ever imagined a kiss to be, and she found her neck arching in invitation as Alexander broke the kiss to seek out the hollows of her throat with his lips.
“Touch me, Xander!” she invited breathlessly, taking one of his hands in hers and placing it against one of her aching breasts. They swelled beneath the material of her gown, their tips swollen and sensitive as she felt the palm of Alexander’s hand against her.
But it was not nearly close enough, Angelina decided, as she ached for the feel of that hand against her flesh. She shifted the artfully designed gown and the material moved accommodatingly lower, exposing her breast fully so that her nipple pressed urgently against Alexander’s fingers.
Alexander’s gaze moved down sharply, feeling the bareness of Angelina’s flesh against his hand, desire coursing fiercely through him and causing his already hard and pulsing erection to throb anew as he looked at the fullness of her exposed breast with its tight rosy nipple. Momentary madness came over him as he started bending his head to take that luscious bud into his mouth—
Dear God…!
Alexander pulled back abruptly, jaw clenched as he straightened Angelina’s gown determinedly, before pushing her firmly away from him.
He ignored her seductive pout this time, to rise sharply to his feet, and moved purposefully away from the bedside, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he took several deep, controlling breaths before he dared face her again. “I have no idea where you…That sort of behavior is totally unacceptable, Angelina!” he finally rasped in his most disapproving tone.
Disapproval for himself, as much as for her…
He may never have set eyes on this girl before tonight, may have ignored her very existence these past three years except to pay her school fees, but Benjamin Hawkins had nevertheless placed her under Alexander’s protection. He doubted that his friend had ever envisaged that it was Alexander himself Angelina might need protection from!
“How is my behavior inappropriate?” Angelina gave Alexander a quizzical stare as she sat up to swing her feet down onto the rug beside the bed.“I am sure we will touch each other much more intimately than that once I become your mistress.”
“Once you are become my what?” Alexander glowered down at her in shocked disbelief.
“Your mistress, Alexander.” Angelina smiled. “I assure you I have applied myself most diligently to my lessons these past three years whilst a pupil at Miss Bristow’s school.”
At last, Alexander knew where he had heard the name before!
At the time of Benjamin Hawkins’s death, Alexander’s own father had also recently died, and Alexander had found his time much occupied with his newly elevated status as Duke of Stourbridge.
Even so, it had been remiss of him not to have at least visited Angelina after the death of her parents. Perhaps if he had done so he would have realized that she was not a child at all, but a young lady of fifteen or sixteen years! As it was, he had left all the arrangements for Angelina Hawkins’s schooling to his man Hopkins. Something the elderly man had later happily assured Alexander he had done by placing her in what he believed was a “suitable” school in Brighton.
But suitable for what?
Chapter Three
Angelina stood up from the bed, an apologetic look on her face. “I had thought to surprise you by arriving so unexpectedly, but I see now that I should have remained patient and waited for you to come for me.” She reached up to touch the hardness of his clenched jaw. “Do say you are not cross with me, Alexander.”
A nerve pulsed where her fingers had just touched. “I am not cross with you—”
“You are everything that is good and kind!” She beamed up at him warmly.
Good or kind were not descriptions Alexander—or, indeed, anyone else!—was accustomed to hearing in connection to himself.
That Angelina thought him to be so was most unsettling.
Alexander