Forever My Love(104)
"You're welcome," came Alec's voice right next to her ear, and she jumped as his hands settled at her waist. "There's no more time for us tonight. But there are several things we have to discuss. No longer will I lust and scheme after you like a demented, oft-thwarted Don Juan. We'll talk tomorrow, during the boating and water festivities in the afternoon." "I think we should try to forget about tonight." "You know that's impossible. Don't be difficult, sweet—just agree with me for now."
She sighed and leaned back against him. "Where should we meet?"
"I'll find you." He turned her around and kissed her deeply, and she was unable to hold back her response. As her mouth clung to his, a fresh fire flickered between them, and Alec cast a vaguely wistful glance at the sofa where they had lain. "Oh yes… I'll find you easily," he murmured, bending his head to nip at her bottom lip very gently with his teeth. He doubted that the sum total of all the satisfaction he had felt in his üfe could equal this moment. She was his, and finally she knew it as well as he, and somehow, some way, he would find a way to keep her.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
« ^ »
Will there be any thin' else you need, miss?" Mary asked, and Rosalie shook her head.
"Thank you, that will be all." She sat at the dressing table, picking up the ivory-handled brush that the maid had just put down, drawing it through her hair in a distracted gesture. She was reluctant for Mary to leave, since the maid had provided an effective barrier between her and Rand ever since they had retired from the ball. He had been watching her with a sharp and exasperated gaze all evening, and though she knew him well, there was no way of predicting how he was going to react to her obvious attempt at subterfuge. Sometimes Rand would confront a problem between them with disconcerting directness, while at other times he would merely watch and wait until he had enough information to corner her.
She looked into the mirror, watching him walk up behind her. His rich blue robe gleamed in the muted lamplight. Her eyes, darkened to violet-blue, met his tawny ones in the mirror.
"What did he say?" Rand inquired, noting the pulse that beat so agitatedly at the base of her throat.
"What did who say?" Rosalie asked faintly.
"Ah… now, that's an interesting question. Would you mind answering it?'
It was fast becoming obvious to Rosalie that she could keep up the pretense no longer. "You know about… tonight?" She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue."Unlike your little friend Mira, you are a poor actress, my love. I admit that I would not have you any other way, but it is more than I can tolerate to see you trying to hide something from me. Yes, I know about Canning. Five minutes after you danced with him, you both slipped out of the room. God help England if Canning isn't more subtle than that on his missions of foreign diplomacy."
"Rand, you certainly don't think I was meeting him in order to—"
"I have no doubt of your fidelity to me," Rand interrupted dryly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Since you have no vested interest in foreign policy, I assume you spoke to Canning about one particular resident of France."
"Yes… I had to ask him about finding a post for Brummell as consul at Calais. My father is in desperate straits, and since neither you nor he will allow me to support him emotionally or financially, I had to think of something to do."
Rand's dark, blunt-featured face looked as if it was carved out of mahogany. "Who came up with the idea of Brummell serving as a consul?" he asked with ominous gentleness. Rosalie's shoulders drooped slightly, and she looked away from his reflection.
"Alvanley. When Mira and I went to visit my mother in London, we had arranged to meet Brummell and Alvanley that night."
A quiet growl of displeasure came from Berkeley's throat, and then an annoyed sigh. "Saints' blood… you're not telling me that you were cavorting around London with only Mira for companionship that night? Good Lord, woman, with all the crime that… No, you wouldn't put yourself in that kind of danger. You wouldn't."
"I did," Rosalie admitted in a small voice, and he put a hand over his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. Then he looked at her, not with anger as she had feared, but with a disturbed frown that wrenched at her heart."Do you think there is anything more important to me than your happiness?" He sighed, his hazel eyes dark and troubled. "The subject of your father has always been a point of contention between us, Rose, and it's time we resolved it. I will not prevent your seeing him, and I will not interfere in your relationship with him. It is your right to handle that relationship in any manner you desire. But I will not allow him to compromise your safety, nor will I allow him to take advantage of you—"