Her muscles limp, she crawled next to him. An odd little sack lay next to his now flaccid penis. She reached to touch it.
“A French letter,” he said.
Of course, she knew about French letters. They protected against pregnancy and against some nasty diseases one could catch from sexual contact.
She should be glad he had taken such a precaution. But for some reason, the sight of the item unnerved her. He’d said he was taking her, claiming her. Why did he not want to join with her free of barriers? After all, they had done it before.
But before she could ask, Evan let out a soft snore next to her. She chuckled lightly, snuggled into his arms, and closed her eyes.
* * *
Evan awoke, stood, and walked to the window. The moon still shone brightly, a full silvery-white sphere lighting up London. He turned and gazed at Alexandra, so beautiful and innocent in sleep.
He had acted irrationally. But seeing Landon about to put his mouth on her had awakened a beast within him. Landon would not have Alexandra. She would be Evan’s. After all, he had planned to find a suitable husband for her. Who would be more suitable than he himself? This time he wouldn’t give her an option. He turned and stared out the window once more.
“Evan?”
He spun around. Alexandra sat up in bed, her full breasts hanging gently, beautifully.
Evan walked back to the bed and sat down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s no matter.” She patted the space next to her. “Come, lie down.”
She was so beautiful, so welcoming. Sometimes Evan thought there were two Alexandras—the one he knew by day, who spoke quickly and without thinking, whose actions were often irrational and illogical, and then this Alexandra, the one he knew at night, the one who made love to him like a vixen, with everything she was, who accepted him, who gave in to his needs and met them with her own.
Which Alexandra was he in love with? For this was love. This was the feeling he had grasped for but that had never materialized with Rose. And now it had hit him like a steam engine, taking him over.
He smiled. There were not two Alexandras. He was in love with every part of her, even her impulsiveness and self-centeredness. It wasn’t even self-centeredness, really. Her childhood had been hell, and she was determined never to relive it. What he had mistaken for self-centeredness was impulsiveness, strength, and the willingness to go after what she wanted at all costs.
Oh, she was beautiful, outside and in. Her strength alone was e
nough to make him love her.
He turned to her, brushing his hand across her cheek. It was time to say the words.
“Alexandra…”
She arched her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“I love you.”
She opened her mouth, but he placed two fingers upon her lips, quieting her.
“I love you and only you. I have fallen so hopelessly in love with you that I can’t imagine life without you.”
She smiled, her perfect beauty radiant in the moonlight streaming in from the window. “I love you too, Evan.”
His heart soared. They would be together. They would be married. He pressed his lips lightly over hers.
“Come back to bed now,” she said. “Being with you is so wonderful. I adore it, and I adore you. There is absolutely no reason why we can’t continue our liaison once I marry Mr. Landon.”
Confessions of Lady Prudence
by Madame O
Dearest Amelia,
Unfortunately, Lars was occupied during my next art lesson, and Christophe did not bring Mr. Peck with him either. Fortunately, I was able to persuade Hattie to join us.