Alexander was still haunted by her actions in the garden. Never would he have expected such daring from any young lady. Even at the theater, she had displayed a strength of character in the face of his silence and the blatant ogling of society. She had been so unflinching, so certain, so unafraid. He’d wanted to kiss her more than he wanted the pain to stop.
Even now it was there, a fester, a clawing need that would not abate. Alexander had the fierce urge to gather her to him, to kiss her face and throat, to taste the sweetness of her lips, inhale her scent, and make it a part of him.
The attraction he felt confounded him. Katherine Danvers was not the type of lady he would have pursued in the days he’d been “mad, bad, and dangerous.” The diamonds of the ton, women who could match him in wealth and beauty and connections, were whom he’d pursued. He and his eventual fiancée had been declared the match of the season, and all of society had praised their alliance. Yet Lady Daphne had been quite sweet and docile, her likes and wants a secret to him, and he’d never made the effort to unearth them.
Still, this burning desire to know all of Miss Danvers would not leave him be. Surely this could not be a simple reflection of his boredom with life? Though Alexander must admit the empty well inside felt like it had been given a drop of something precious. Something was different. The jagged emptiness had not tormented him these last few days. How long would it last?
Her throat cleared delicately, and a delightfully pink blush ran along her cheek. “You are staring, Your Grace.”
Her cheeks grew redder under his slow, careful appraisal.
He gave her a faint, mocking smile. “Surely you know how beautiful you are,” he returned smoothly.
The woman rolled her eyes, pulling a smile to his lips.
“You do not believe it to be true?” he asked, mildly surprised.
“I’m pretty,” she said softly. “And I’ve been told my eyes are lovely. ‘Beautiful’ is perhaps a stretch, hmm?”
His heart stumbled in his chest. “I agree, they are remarkably fine eyes, particularly so when sparkling with indignation or when they begged for a kiss. But you are also unquestionably more than pretty, Miss Danvers.”
She was unique in her boldness and beauty.
She gasped, staring at him with those wide, impossibly lovely eyes. “My eyes did not beg you to kiss me,” she whispered furiously, looking as if she wanted to hit him with the warming pan.
Alexander chuckled. “Was it the word ‘beg’ that appalled you?”
She growled low in her throat, cocking her head in a decidedly impatient and annoyed gesture. He smiled, and she narrowed her eyes, doing an excellent job of appearing threatening. Her posture did not paint a picture of a woman who accepted defeat easily.
He liked teasing her. Seeing the myriad expressions chasing across her face. They were all beautiful in their complexities. How unforgivably idiotic he was being.
The carriage lurched jarringly, throwing her forward. He grabbed her, steadying her as they came to a shuddering stop. The carriage door swung open, and they peered down into George’s worried face.
“A mountain of a tree fell ’cross the road, Yer Grace. ’Tis impassable.”
Alexander cursed under his breath. They were too far from civilization to turn around, and there was no inn close by. “What are the options?”
“We could go ’round, Yer Grace, and use the bridge. Might take a few minutes more.”
That bridge was a rickety old thing that was slated for repairs. It was a risk, and one he wasn’t sure it made sense to take. “When last did you travel upon it, George?”
“Only last week, Yer Grace.”
“If the river is swollen, we must find alternate means,” Alexander replied.
George nodded and closed the carriage door. A few moments later, they rumbled away again. Miss Danvers once more peered into the sleeting rain.
“We are soon to arrive, then?”
“Yes. Less than an hour.”
A soft sigh slipped from her. “I do not know what to expect,” she confessed.
“Neither do I.”
She slanted him a quick, searching glance. “It warms my heart to know you are similarly uncertain.”
“Does it?”