"You haven't understood a word I've said," Alexandra said desperately. "The fact of the matter is that if I marry you, you'll make me as unhappy as you are—and if you make me unhappy, I'll undoubtedly retaliate by making you unhappy, and in a few years, we'll both be as sour as your grandmother. Don't you dare laugh," she warned when his lips twitched.
Taking her arm, Jordan walked with her along the flagstone path that separated the rose beds and led to an arbor filled with trees decked out in spring blossoms. "You've failed to take one vital fact into consideration: From the moment I carried you into the inn, nothing in your life could ever be the same again. Even if your mother was only bluffing about putting us both through a public trial, your reputation is already destroyed." Stopping at the entrance to the arbor, he leaned against the trunk of an oak tree and said in a detached, impersonal voice, "I'm afraid you have no choice except to do me the honor of becoming my wife."
Alexandra chuckled, diverted by his ever-present, courteous formality, even now when she was bluntly refusing his hand in marriage. "Marrying an ordinary girl from Morsham is hardly an 'honor' for a duke," she reminded him with cheerful, artless candor, "and despite what you so glibly said when we last parted, you are not my 'servant.' Why do you say those things to me?"
He grinned at her infectious merriment. "Habit," he admitted.
She tipped her head to the side, an enchanting, spirited girl with the wit and courage to spar with him. "Do you never say what you really mean?"
"Rarely."
Alex nodded sagely. "Apparently, speaking one's mind is a privilege reserved for what your grandmother disdainfully refers to as 'the lower classes.' Why do you always seem to be on the verge of laughing at me?"
"For some unfathomable reason," he replied in an amused drawl, "I like you."
"That's nice, but it isn't enough to base a marriage on," Alexandra persisted, returning to her original concern. "There are other, essential things like—" Her voice trailed off in horrified silence. Like love, she thought. Love was the only essential.
"Like what?"
Unable to choke out the word, Alexandra hastily looked away and shrugged noncommittally.
Love, Jordan silently filled in with a resigned sigh, longing to return to his interrupted meeting with his grandmother's bailiff. Alexandra wanted love and romance. He'd forgotten that even innocent, sheltered girls of her tender years would undoubtedly expect a little ardor from their affianced husbands. Adamantly unwilling to stand out here like a besotted fool and try to persuade her to marry him with tender words he didn't mean, he decided a kiss would be the quickest, most effective, and most expedient way to fulfill his duty and neutralize her misgivings, so that he could resume his meeting.
Alex jumped nervously when his hand suddenly lifted and cupped her cheek, forcing her to give up her embarrassed study of the entrance to the arbor.
"Look at me," he said in a low, velvety, unfamiliar voice that sent tingles of apprehensive excitement darting up her spine.
Alexandra dragged her eyes to his tanned face. Although no one had ever attempted to seduce or kiss her before, she took one look at the slumberous expression in his heavy-lidded eyes and knew something was in the wind. Instantly wary, she demanded without preamble: "What are you thinking?"
His fingers splayed sensuously across her cheek, and he smiled—a slow, lazy smile that made her heart leap into her throat. "I'm thinking about kissing you."
Alexandra's fevered imagination promptly ran away with itself as she recalled the novels she'd read. When kissed by the man they secretly loved, the heroines invariably swooned, or abandoned their virtue, or blurted out professions of undying love. Terrified that she would make just such a cake of herself, Alexandra gave her head an emphatic shake. "No, really," she croaked. "I—I don't think you should. Not just now. It's very nice of you to offer, but not just now. Perhaps another time when I—"
Ignoring her protests, and struggling to hide his amusement, Jordan put his fingertips beneath her chin and tilted her face up for his kiss.
He closed his eyes. Alexandra's opened wide. He lowered his head. She braced herself to be overcome with ardor. He touched his lips lightly to hers. And then it was over.
Jordan opened his eyes and looked at her to assess her reaction. It was not the naively rapturous one he expected to see. Alexandra's eyes were wide with bewilderment and—yes—disappointment!
Relieved that she hadn't made a fool of herself like the heroines of the novels, Alexandra wrinkled her small nose. "Is that all there is to kissing?" she asked the nobleman whose fiery kisses purportedly made maidens despise their virginity and married women forget their vows.
For a moment, Jordan didn't move; he studied her with heavy-lidded, speculative grey eyes. Suddenly Alexandra saw something exciting and alarming kindle in those silvery eyes. "No," he murmured, "there's more," and his hands encircled her arms, drawing her so close that her breasts almost touched his chest.
His conscience, which Jordan had assumed was long dead, chose that unlikely moment to suddenly assert itself after years of silence. You are seducing a child, Hawthorne! it warned in acid disgust. Jordan hesitated, more from surprise at the unexpected presence of that long-forgotten inner voice than from guilt at his actions. You are deliberately seducing a gullible child into doing your bidding because you don't want to bother taking the time to reason with her.
"What are you thinking now?" Alexandra asked warily.
Several evasions occurred to him, but recalling that she'd scorned polite platitudes, he decided to be truthful. "I'm thinking that I'm committing the unforgivable act of seducing a child."
Alexandra, who was relieved rather than disappointed that his kiss had not affected her, felt laughter bubble up inside of her. "Seducing me?" she repeated with a merry chuckle and shook her head, sending her curly hair into fetching disarray. "Oh, no, you may put your mind at ease on that score. I think I must be made of sterner stuff than most females who swoon from a kiss and abandon their virtue. I," she finished candidly, "was not at all affected by our kiss. Not," she added charitably, "that I thought it was gruesome, for it wasn't, I assure you. It was… quite nice."
"Thank you," Jordan said, straight-faced. "You're very kind." Tucking her hand firmly into the crook of his arm, he turned and led her a few steps into the arbor.