Forever My Love(4)

Momentarily stunned, Mira looked up at him, her heart hammering and seeming to rise up high in her chest. An indescribably pleasant fragrance clung to him, a subtle mixture of male skin, clean linen, and the faintest touch of bay rum. His gray eyes were very close as they met hers, and she couldn't help noticing how beautiful they were.

"Oh, how clumsy I am," she said breathlessly, her voice muffled by his coat.

"No, not at all. Anyone could have—"

"I'm glad you were so quick, or I might have been—"

"—yes, the floor is very—"

"—I don't know how to thank you for…"As she looked up at him, they both became still. He was still holding her close, much too close against his body, and Mira knew somehow that he was as acutely aware of her as she was of him… but a man like him was forbidden to her, would always be forbidden. "You… you may let me go now," she said reluctantly.

His arms did not loosen. "Are you steady on your feet yet?" he asked gently.

"Yes, I think so."

"You should be more careful," he murmured, still

holding her. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt." Her body was so soft and yielding against his that Alec found himself unwilling to release her. Dozens of ques­tions ran through his mind. He wondered who in the hell she was, why he hadn't seen her before… he wondered why she stared up at him so uneasily and what she would do if he kissed her. What a temptation she presented! Her velvety brown eyes were dark and filled with secrets, and she seemed so eager to fly away that his hold tightened on her. "What is your name?" he asked, his dark head lowering slightly.

"My lord, please." She pulled away from him in a startled movement.

Alec let her go reluctantly, beginning to smile as she flushed and averted her gaze from his.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes gleaming with warm amusement. "It seems we've both made a misstep. I'm usually much better mannered."

"And I'm usually very surefooted," she said.

"I believe that."

"Thank you for… catching me. I must be going downstairs now—"

"Wait," he said, making an impulsive move as if to take her arm, and then his hand fell by his side. "What is your name? Are you one of Sackville's guests?"

Mira wanted to shrink away from him in sudden discomfiture. So he didn't have any idea of who she was. She knew what was coming next, and yet her pride would not let her run from him.

"My name is Mira," she said stiffly. "Yes, I'm one of Lord Sackville's guests, more or less a permanent one. I live here, in the turret."

Alec could not believe his ears at first. She was Sackville's mistress? His silver gaze turned to ice as it traveled from her head to her toes, noting her smoothly confined hair and the beautiful garment she wore, the

well-outlined shape of her body and the pristine pale­ness of her skin.

"I was just talking to him about you," he said, his voice noticeably cooler. "Somehow I had imagined you to be much older."

"It seems you were mistaken."

"It seems I was very mistaken," he agreed softly.

"I must be going," she said, turning away, until his voice stopped her.

"I've heard that you tend to hide away up here."

"Yes," she replied without looking at him.

"Why?"

"Because I like to be alone."

She could feel his eyes lingering on the wide boat-shaped neckline of her gown and the smooth swell of her breasts. His gaze had previously held the warmth of admiration; now it contained a searing insolence.

"I can't help wondering about something," he mur­mured. "What were you before?"

"Before?" she repeated warily.

"Before you became Sackville's mistress. A girl from the village who was willing to sell herself for fine clothes and a room at the manor? Or an impetuous merchant's daughter, hoping to entice Sackville into marrying you but ending up as his—"

"Neither," Mira interrupted, favoring him with a disdainful smile. So it seemed that Falkner was the same as the rest of his peers, eager to pass judgment on other people, contemptuous of the lower classes… so certain that he himself was above reproach. "Please excuse me, my lord. I would not soil your immaculate presence with my company any longer."

She left him there while he stared after her, his mouth set and his handsome face cold.

Alec adopted a mask of charm and agreeability that night as he and the sixty-odd guests of Lord Sackville sat at the immense table in the eating room. His mood was only superficially pleasant, for inwardly he still

brooded about the girl in the rose gown… Mira… and he became more disgusted by the entire situation as he thought about it. How could she have agreed to become the mistress of William Sackville, a man more than twice her age? Could she actually cherish some tender feeling for the older man, or was it entirely a financial arrangement? It must be for the money, he decided savagely, remembering the expensive cut of her gown and the delicate beading on the bodice and sleeves. Yes, she was mercenary, as all women were at heart.