"Who taught you to fence?" he asked as they strolled back to the coach.
"My father. We used to practice together for hours at a time whenever he came home. When he left, I'd practice with Mary Ellen's brothers—with anyone else who was willing—so that when my father came home again, he'd admire my skill. I suppose, since I didn't show much promise of feminine beauty, he thought it was amusing to turn me into a son. On the other hand, it's possible he simply liked to fence, and he used our matches as a way of passing time." She had no idea that the pain and scorn she felt for her sire was obvious in her voice.
"Alexandra?"
Alexandra pulled her gaze from the countryside that was sliding past the coach windows. Ever since their mock duel two hours before, the duke had been watching her in an odd, speculative way that was making her increasingly uncomfortable. "Yes?"
"You said your father didn't come home very often. Where did he spend his time?"
A dark shadow dimmed the brilliance of her eyes, then it vanished behind a deliberately offhand smile. "He came two or three times a year and stayed a fortnight or so. He spent the rest of his time in London. He was rather like a visitor."
"I'm sorry," Jordan replied, apologizing because he had made her talk about someone he could see had caused her some sort of hurt.
"You needn't be sorry, but if you could find it in your heart to think more kindly of my mother, I would appreciate that very much. My mother used to be charming and gay, but after my father died, she just sort of—went all to pieces."
"And left the burden of the household and the servants on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old child," Jordan finished dampingly. "I saw that place, and I've met your mother and uncle. I can imagine exactly what it was like for you."
She heard the angry compassion in his voice and her love for him grew because he cared about her, but she shook her head, refusing his pity. "It wasn't as bad as you seem to think."
It felt so good, so safe and secure to have someone worry about her, that Alexandra scarcely knew how to contain the tenderness and gratitude she felt for him. Unable to tell him how she felt, she did the next best thing: Reaching into the bright yellow reticule that matched her skirt and pelisse, she lovingly extracted a heavy watch and chain. To Alexandra it was sacred—the most valuable possession of the man she had adored. She held it out to Jordan and when he took it with a quizzical expression, she explained, "It belonged to my grandfather. It was given him by a Scottish earl who admired his knowledge of the philosophers." Just looking at it in Jordan's wide palm made her eyes mist. Her voice aching with poignant memories, she said, "He would have wanted you to have it. He'd have approved of you."
"I doubt that," Jordan said with certainty.
"Oh, but he would! He said I should love a noble man."
"He told you to love a nobleman?" Jordan repeated in disbelief.
"No, no. A noble man. Which you are."
Unaware that he already owned several, far more beautiful gold watches, Alexandra said, "I sent one of your footmen to my house and Penrose fetched the watch for him. Your grandmother said it was all right."
Jordan's hand closed over the watch. "Thank you" was all he said.
She had given him the two most precious things she had, Alexandra realized, her love and the gold watch. And all he had said each time was an uncomfortable "Thank you." Obviously, her gifts made him feel uneasy.
The awkward silence that occurs whenever someone realizes they've revealed too much about themselves fell over the coach.
Eventually the gentle rocking motion of the chaise, combined with the large hot meal she'd eaten earlier, made Alexandra drowsy. Despite the luxurious interior of the vehicle, however, she could find no comfortable way to sleep. She tried leaning her head against the side, but every time the coach gave a small lurch, her head banged against it and woke her up. Sitting up straight, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried leaning her head back against the squabs. The wheels hit a rut and her entire upper body slid sharply to the right. Bracing her hand on the seat, Alexandra levered herself upright.
Across from her, Jordan chuckled and patted the seat beside him. "I will be happy to offer my shoulder as a pillow, my lady."
Alexandra accepted the invitation with sleepy gratitude and shifted onto the seat beside him, but instead of merely offering his shoulder, Jordan lifted his arm and put it around her so that her head was cradled snugly in the curve of his arm and chest. My lady, Alex thought sleepily. How lovely that sounded when he said it. She was asleep almost instantly.
Twilight had fallen when she awoke to the horrifying realization that she was lying almost completely atop him. Sometime during her nap, Jordan had shifted their positions so that his back was against the side of the coach with his legs stretched diagonally across the seat Alexandra was lying on her side, wrapped in his arms, her legs tangled with his, her own arm curved around his waist.
Horrified that he might awaken and find her sprawled across him in this undignified fashion, Alexandra carefully lifted her cheek from his hard chest. Trying to think of some way to extricate herself without awakening him, she peered at him beneath her lashes. Sleep smoothed the harsh planes of his tanned face and softened the contours of his square jaw, she thought fondly. Seen like this, he looked much less forbidding, almost boyish, and… awake!
His eyes opened and he tipped his chin down, looking at her. Puzzlement registered on his features for a split second, as if he didn't quite recognize her, then he smiled—a deliciously warm, languid smile. "Did you sleep well?"
Alexandra, who had been too stricken to move, nodded and tried to lever herself up. His arms tightened, holding her. "Don't go," he whispered, and his heavy-lidded gaze dropped to her soft lips, lingering on her mouth for a long moment before he slowly lifted his eyes to her widened blue ones. "Stay here with me."
He wanted her to kiss him, Alexandra realized with mingled joy and apprehension—the invitation was there in those warm, compelling grey eyes. Shyly, Alexandra put her lips on his and felt his hand settle on the small of her back, stroking slowly upward, comforting her and encouraging her. His lips moved against hers, lightly exploring, inviting her to do the same, and when she began to follow his lead, his free hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding tantalizingly against her nape while the other hand continued sensually stroking her back.
He kissed her endlessly, long drugging kisses that shook her to the core of her being and made her want more and more. His tongue traced the line between her lips, coaxing them to part for him, then it slipped between them, lightly exploring her mouth, then gently plunging and retreating, teasing and tormenting her, until Alexandra, feverish with the need to make him feel as she felt, touched her own tongue to his lips. The instant she did, the kiss exploded. He crushed her to him, drawing her tongue into his mouth and caressing it with his own. His other hand suddenly shifted, curving round her bottom, pulling her tightly to his hardened body, while his tongue began thrusting into her mouth and retreating again and again in some wildly exciting, forbidden rhythm that sent jolts of fierce pleasure rocketing through Alexandra's body.