37
“We can discuss this for everyone’s delectation, or you can come with me,” Vasili said with forced evenness. “I have a carriage waiting outside.”
That wasn’t at all what Alexandra was expecting to hear.
If she had been as angry as she suspected Vasili was, she wouldn’t have held off whatever “this” was, just to avoid making an embarrassing scene.
Of course, she was used to causing scenes and—and she’d better answer him before he made the decision for her.
“I was just about to leave anyway,” she told him, her own tone carefully neutral.
It wasn’t true, even if it was what she’d wanted to do ever since arriving. But she figured if she didn’t go with him, he’d just become angrier, because then he’d be making that scene she knew he didn’t want to make.
However, she nearly changed her mind about going anywhere with him.
Although he had her compliance, she still felt as if he were dragging her out of there.
But before she could make up her mind whether it would be in her best interest to remain where there were people, they were outside, and she was being shoved into his waiting carriage.
“Is it your intention to freeze me?” she asked, her tone sarcastic.
He hadn’t stopped long enough to retrieve her evening cloak, and the winter night air was damp and frigid. Inside the large, well-appointed carriage, it was not much warmer. But rather than go back for her wrap, he tossed a carriage blanket at her before he sat down.
The vehicle departed immediately with the slamming of the door, jerking Alexandra nearly off the edge of the seat. It wouldn’t take much more for her to be losing her temper.
“Explain yourself, Petroff. If I had known you had a trip to England scheduled, I would have gone elsewhere.”
“Would you? I doubt that.”
He was sitting opposite her with his arms crossed, his legs stretched out and also crossed, his eyes still aglow as he stared at her.
Whatever pleasure she had felt upon first seeing him was fast dissipating, irritation taking its place.
And that he said no more after his sardonic remark left a silence that unnerved her.
She broke it, demanding, “Well? I assume there is some particular reason you have sought me out—or did we have the misfortune to turn up at the same function as well as in the same town?”
“We’ll get to that in a moment, Alex. Right now I’m having a little trouble adjusting to seeing you, for all intents and purposes, looking like a lady. Or do you have your britches on underneath that gown?”
She couldn’t imagine why that question made her blush, but it did. “If you failed to notice, that was a ball you dragged me out of. I do happen to know what the required dress is for such an occasion.”
“No britches, then?”
She glared at him in answer. Vasili wasn’t amused.
He was, in fact, even more incredulous now than when he’d first spotted her on the dance floor.
Silk and lace. He’d had fantasies of her wearing just that, but he could never have imagined anything like this.
The artfully arranged coiffure, the long evening gloves, the deep scoop of her neckline—Jesus, her breasts, her magnificent breasts on display for any man who cared to look.
Even as that infuriated him, Vasili had to allow that he had never seen Alexandra looking more beautiful. And he resented that she had always denied him this soft, feminine side of her, that he hadn’t known she even had a side like this—except in bed.
She could dance. She could apparently converse with her peers for a while without swearing or shocking them.
And obviously she was careful not to attend gatherings where dinner was included, or she would very quickly become excluded from guest lists.
But apparently she’d been able to fool these English into believing she was a lady, or that she knew how to act like one.
He was also furious that he hadn’t been able to catch up with her before she sailed for England, that it had taken him more than a month to finally find her.
They’d lost her trail twice, first when she had begun heading for the mountains, as if she were going home, then had changed directions to travel north.
He’d sent home most of the men he had with him at that point, since it appeared they wouldn’t be needed.
Then they had lost Alexandra again, when she switched her mode of traveling to a carriage.
But between him and the eight men left in his party, it had taken only a few hours after their arrival in London to locate her hotel.
And her maid, Nina, had obligingly told him where she could be found tonight.
And now he wasn’t sure how to handle her.
His first urge, as always, was to make love to her, and that urge was stronger than ever.
Just being near her again had him hard and ready.
His second urge was to throttle her for all the trouble she had put him through.
But he had a third urge, just to hold her and tell her—what?
That he’d been worried sick that she would marry Leighton before he found her?
That he was in the lamentable position of finding himself in love for the first time in his life?
She’d never believe it after the attitude he had demonstrated just for her.
And what about her Englishman? If he had found Leighton there with her, he probably would have challenged him on the spot.
If she loved the man, if she really loved him, he wondered if he had the decency to bow out and let her have him.
His jealousy said no, that he and the Englishman couldn’t live on the same planet.
But this damn love he was feeling wanted her to be happy.
The two feelings wouldn’t reconcile. He supposed he ought to find out first if he had arrived too late.
“Is there a wedding planned, Alex?”
Alexandra drew in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he possibly have found out about her portly viscount? He couldn’t know.
“What wedding?” she asked carefully.
“Between you and Leighton.”
This was even worse. “How did you learn about Christopher?”
“From Lazar. You should have told me.”
“It was none of your business—”
“We are to be married!” he cut in, his anger finally there between them. “It damn well is my business if you are in love with another man!”
“We are to be what?”
“Fickle after all, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Or have you forgotten that you assured me you wouldn’t break your word? A matter of honor, or so you claimed.”
His attack had her hackles rising. “Didn’t you get my note? Your mother said you couldn’t possibly marry me, that I was a disgrace, hopeless—”
“My mother didn’t arrange our marriage. She has no say in the matter.”
“That wasn’t the impression you gave the first time we discussed ending the betrothal,” she said stiffly. “When she told me what she did, I assumed—”
“You assumed wrong, Alex, and you left without even confirming that assumption with me. And I repeat, it wasn’t up to my mother. Whether we get married or not is up to us, and depends on whether or not we are going to honor what our respective fathers committed us to.”
“You’re saying we’re still betrothed?”
“You’re damned right we are.” And before she knew what he was doing, he had her hand in his and was slipping the warm metal of her betrothal ring on her finger. “Don’t remove it again, Alex. You belong to me. I want you wearing the proof of that.”
The last was said as if it were a warning, and she heard some distinct possessiveness in his tone that confused and thrilled her at the same time.
She sat back, assailed by relief and dread, and fought to ignore them both.
She’d never get through this discussion if she didn’t keep her emotions out of it.
But, oh, how wonderful it felt to have that ring back!
Tears had accompanied her removal of it.
When she had left it behind with her note to him, it had felt as if she were leaving her heart behind, too.
She wouldn’t remove it again—but not because he’d told her not to.
“Would you mind explaining to me why?” she said, referring to his assertion that the betrothal was still on. “I gave you an out. And as I recall, you didn’t want to marry me, so why didn’t you take it?”
Because I love you!
Now was an excellent time to tell her. But she would laugh and scoff and probably say something sarcastic like “Sure you do, Petroff. You prove it to me every time you open your mouth.” And since he was still having difficulty believing it himself, how was he going to convince her?
“You didn’t give me an out, Alex. You ran off under a misconception. That didn’t release me from the betrothal, it merely put me to the bother of bringing you back. However, if it was your intention to break your word, say so now and that will be the end of it.”
“That was never my intention and you know it,” she hissed at him.
“I didn’t think so, so there you have your answer. We are still bound by that contract, still very much betrothed, and still going to be married. Or do you disagree with that?”
“No,” she said in a low mumble.
“Then your coming to England hasn’t changed your views about honor?”
“No,” she said with more volume and a glare.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She snorted at that. “Careful, Petroff, or you’ll almost have me thinking you want to get married now.”
“Perhaps I do,” he said softly.
“When pigs fly,” was her retort.
He grinned. He just knew his Alex would say something like that.
“Actually…” He paused so she would think he was only just coming to this conclusion.
“Since I have to get married eventually anyway—for an heir, you understand—it might as well be to you. After all, I’ve already devoted more effort to you than I ever have to another woman—and I absolutely adore your breasts, Alex. ”
He expected another hot retort, a blush, anything except the subdued expression he was getting. And he could have kicked himself for thinking that what he’d said would be more acceptable to her than the truth.
“Alex—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted him. “I’ve always known your position on the subject. And you’ve always known mine.”
Reminding him that she hadn’t wanted to marry him because she was in love with someone else worked to bring back the anger he’d displayed earlier, and to get his mind off telling her any more about how wonderful life was going to be with him.
She could have told him about the baby now and he could start ignoring her before they were even married.
But since that would probably delight him, she decided to be perverse and keep the news to herself.
He might have come after her, but obviously nothing had changed. So why did that “for an heir, you understand” make her feel like crying?
“You’ve seen Leighton?” he asked tightly.
“Yes.”
“I’ll kill the bastard if he touched you, Alex,” he fairly growled.
What was this, jealousy by default? “Don’t bother. He never wanted to marry me. He was waiting for me to marry someone else so he could then become my lover. He thought the same thing you did, except he knew I was a virgin and he was just waiting for me to change that fact.”
“He’s dead,” Vasili said simply.
Alexandra sighed. “I’m the one who was insulted, Petroff, not you. Just because you’re thinking of me as your wife now doesn’t mean I won’t still fight my own battles.”
“He hurt you—”
“No, he didn’t—which made me realize it was rather tepid, whatever I felt for him.”
Vasili’s smug smile at those words was irritating in the extreme, making her change the subject again. “Where, exactly, are you taking me?”
“To my ship. I didn’t like this congested, overcrowded city the first time I visited it, and I still don’t. We’ll be leaving immediately.”
“No, we won’t. My people—”
“Should be aboard by now, I imagine, with some—friendly—persuasion.”
“You’re pushing it, Petroff.”
“After all the trouble you’ve put me to, sweetheart, I’d say I’m allowed.”