The shrewdest of gazes leveled on her. “Perhaps kissing friends,” he murmured, his eyes alight with amusement and interest.
Kitty felt a rush of heat, a fiery ache. She was increasingly, unwillingly captivated. She and a duke…friends. How laughable.
He wanted something else from her—what, she couldn’t perceive, but she was sure of it. “There will be no more kissing,” she whispered, because clearly his lips were not impotent. “Unless you are proposing to make our engagement a reality. I am a respectable lady, Your Grace.”
She had no notion of why she said that, but icy civility replaced the provoking amusement in his eyes.
“Never that, Miss Danvers,” he murmured. “I will never marry.”
Chapter Six
Miss Danvers’s eyes were exotically slanted, her orbs the golden brown of whiskey fringed in thick ebony lashes. Cat eyes. A man could drown in her eyes. Slowly, inch by inch.
“Never? You’ll never marry?” she whispered, her gaze skimming over his face and down the length of his body in a caress he felt as if she’d touched him.
“Correct,” Alexander murmured, his interest growing in shocking leaps and bounds. “Nor will it be a topic of discourse between us again.”
Her eyes widened. The picture Miss Danvers presented was one of artless loveliness. The deep blue silken ball gown clung alluringly to her petite frame, hugging her curves. She was small-boned, curvy, with a tiny waist, and heart-stoppingly lovely. A thick band of rose silk encircled her waist, and the low neckline of her gown was embroidered with flowers in delicate seed pearls. The creamy expanse of her shoulders drew his eyes to her décolletage.
But it was her face that encouraged study. Her cheekbones were elegantly slanted, with classic delicate bones and a faintly haughty nose. She was the possessor of the blackest wavy hair he’d ever seen, supple, flawless skin, full mouth. Miss Danvers caught her soft lower lip between her very white teeth. She had a small overbite. Her lips were too full and pouting.
Alexander couldn’t say she was beautiful in the conventional sense, but she was arresting.
He’d not lied when he mentioned the powerful force of curiosity that had compelled him to travel to London. Each newspaper mention had been a taunt, a beckoning lure, an artfully worded invitation, a curse, and Alexander had almost driven himself mad with the need to confront the charlatan impudently using his name and arousing his long-dead soul in such a manner.
Yet here he was, and his curiosity had not abated. It had multiplied, infinitely, with no possibility of it ever ending, with so many confounding needs and wants desperately seeking to be assuaged.
How terribly droll yet fascinating.
This encounter had already revealed much about Miss Danvers.
She’d never been kissed. No young buck or seasoned rake had ever tried to seduce her, or if they had attempted to, they had abysmally failed.
She seemed to approach life with grace and humor. More than once she’d attempted to introduce levity into their unexpected encounter, despite the frantic fluttering of her pulse at the base of her throat.
And the most astonishing revelation: He’d truly expected a hardened lady used to deceiving the world to get ahead. Yet Miss Danvers glowered with a unique innocence and appeared too soft and sweet to be real.
Alexander caught a glimpse of vulnerability in Miss Danvers’s unguarded expression before she lowered her eyes. And his admiration for her mettle soared. Few ladies would deal with his appearance without descending into hysterics. But then her outrageous exploits as his supposed fiancée had already informed him of her daring nature and spine of steel for someone so young.
She was gentle and proud, and in her eyes, he saw shame she’d had to lower herself to such deceptive manners to support her family. But a stubbornness borne from adversity let him know she would do it all over again.
Though Alexander’s body remained unmoved, she aroused his mind. He wanted to know more…everything about her until this perplexing hunger was sated. And suddenly he needed to possess her more than his next breath.
Foolish, of course, as he had nothing to offer her, certainly not pleasures of the flesh. His title, perhaps, but nothing more. There would never be a babe to fill her arms, he would never see her soft and replete with pleasure, and eventually, the cold loneliness would chain her—as it had imprisoned him for so long.
Her gaze flicked behind him, then settled once more on his face. She lifted her chin, clearly attempting to be brave. “I believe it is time for me to return to the ballroom, Your Grace.”
“Then go,” he murmured.
Her lids lowered, shadowing her expressive eyes. She dipped into a curtsy. “I bid you good evening…Alexander.”
How soft and curious and achingly tender she sounded.
And that bit of sweetly offered intimacy when she had been so reluctant before sealed her fate. “I believe I shall enjoy the duration of our attachment, Miss Danvers. I shall call upon you tomorrow at Portman Square by noon. I will be received with all cordiality.”
She stumbled slightly, her hand darting out to grip the padded armrest of a chair for balance. “Your Grace…I…”
“We will discuss the terms of our engagement then.”