A Scarlet Bride (26 page)

Connor nodded his head. "I know. Even that fateful night Georgiana was seen leaving my bed, she never appeared hurt or upset. Yet Alexandra's expression was like a knife plunging into my heart."

"That's because Georgiana was a whore. I hope Alexandra is the woman who finally wipes your mind free of that woman."

Connor shrugged. "Georgiana proved just how much of a snake I could be. I wouldn't be surprised if Alexandra one day left me. After all, she never wanted this marriage. But this time I'm prepared. I will not fall in love with Alexandra, so that when she leaves it won't hurt near as much."

William leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink. "What a crock. You said yourself that this woman is different. She's the first one to stand up to you. She's the first woman I've seen to really give you a run for your money." He laughed. "I think you're falling fast and hard, my friend."

"That's why I hired you as my lawyer, William. You always give me your opinion, whether I like it or not."

"A man like you never admits that he's falling in love until it's too late."

Abruptly, Connor rose from his chair and began to pace the small office. "Alexandra is my wife, but our relationship does not include love. Love is much too vulnerable a state."

"Then why do your eyes seem to glow when you talk about her? You've got all the signs, my friend, of a man about to go over the edge."

"But I won't. I may hang on the precipice and teeter precariously, but I will not fall in love with Alexandra. I will not give my heart again."

Connor pulled his roan to a halt in front of the gray porch of his home. Swinging his leg over the horse, he dropped to the ground just as Aunt Clara came out the door and hurried
down.the
steps toward him.

"Connor, how good to see you," she said, standing before him. "I was just leaving."

"You don't have to go just because I'm home," he said, watching the genteel older woman.

"I must get home to Sydney. I hate to be gone for any length of time these days." She put her arm through his and they strolled toward her waiting buggy.

"How's he feeling?"

"Tired."
She sighed and shook her head. "But the doctor says his heart is doing better."

"Good." Connor paused before the buggy, hesitant. Fearful of looking like a complete fool with Alexandra, Connor
asked,"Mrs
.
LaRoux
,
does Alexandra like opera?
Falstaff
by Verdi, to be exact?"

Aunt Clara smiled. "Dear, she absolutely adores the opera and the theater too. If you were thinking of taking her, it would be a splendid idea. Get out in public, let society know nothing is going to separate the two of you."

Connor sighed. "She's not been very happy lately."

"I know. I just hope this latest incident will not do more damage than has already been done to her reputation."

"Yes, well, I'm concerned."

"So am I," she acknowledged. "I don't think the two of you realize the extent of the harm done to your reputations."

Was she referring to the book, the bet, their wedding, or something else he had yet to find out about? Why couldn't someone else give society something to talk about?

"I must be going, dear. The opera would be good for the both of you." She patted him on the arm. "I don't envy you at all trying to get through to my niece. Sometimes she's as stubborn as her father."

"I'm beginning to realize that," Connor responded.

He helped Aunt Clara into her carriage and closed the door.

She stuck her head out the window. "Be good to each other. I'm positive that in time things will work out."

Connor smiled and waved as the driver called to the horses and the carriage pulled away from the house.

For something that sounded so simple, with a woman like Alexandra, it was a tall order. But he couldn't help but wonder
,
what would he do if Alexandra had written
Hester's Revenge
? He shook his head. He didn't want to think about all the social ramifications, not now.

***

Several days passed before Connor found time alone with Alexandra and worked up enough courage to talk to her about the opera.
Though they at least spoke a little now, the air between them remained frigid, her voice polite and cool.
It was as if she had put up a wall of ice between them, though with others in the household she continued to be her usual warm self. Only he received frostbite each time they talked. Only he felt the razor edge of her tongue.

Finally, one morning he caught up with her alone in their sitting room.

"Good morning, Alexandra," he prompted, anxious about her reception.

"Good morning," she replied, shutting her bedroom door behind her. A blue morning gown flowed gently over her curves.

"If I could, I would like a word with you this morning."

She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Whatever about?"

He drew in a deep breath and took two steps toward her. They stood inches apart, so close he could smell the lavender scent of her skin, could see the streaks of gold running through her emerald eyes. Her tongue reached out and wet her lips and his eyes hungrily followed its path. Weeks had passed since they'd shared a kiss, weeks since that one night when they'd shared their bodies.

As if in a prison cell, he slammed the door on that memory before he lost what little charm he still possessed and dragged her into her bedroom to relive his fantasies.

"William gave us tickets as a wedding gift to the opera
Falstaff
, which is playing in Charleston. I wondered if you'd like to
attend?
" He watched her eyebrows rise in obvious surprise. "I would like to escort you, if you'll accept my invitation."

Her hand went up to her throat in a protective gesture, as if she needed to guard herself. The action annoyed him. His behavior had been callous to say the least, but she need not fear him. He had not meant to hurt her.

"I have tickets for Saturday night. Of course if you prefer, I can arrange for you and your aunt to be escorted to the theater."

He watched her face for any signs of pleasure, any sign of acquiescence.

"No," she said abruptly.

His heart stopped. She was turning him down cold.

"William gave you the tickets. We should go to the opera together, though you've never struck me as the opera type," she explained.

He grinned, unable to contain his elation. "I'm not, but the tickets are a gift and with you I'm willing to try."

She gazed at him, a stunned expression on her beautiful face. "Why are you doing this?"

Shrugging, he ran his finger along the curve of her jaw. "I thought we could use some time together, doing something entertaining."

She backed away from him until he could no longer touch her.

"Don't take my agreeing to accompany you as anything significant. This means nothing more than we're going to the opera." Her voice was as cool as the north wind in January.

He held up his hands as if he were surrendering. "I understand completely. We're just going to the opera."

"That's right."

Connor put his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to dwell on why it was so important he get Alexandra back in his arms. It was frightening that she had so quickly found a way to integrate herself so completely into his thoughts, his life. In the time since she'd found out about the bet, there had been an emptiness, a hollow feeling he couldn't quite dismiss.

They were going to the opera, but if he had his way, this was just the first step toward her returning to him. And this time it wouldn't be for just one night. This time, he wouldn't let her slip away.

***

Had she lost her mind? She'd agreed to attend the opera with Connor and though she loved the theater, tonight was about so much more than that. Not only would she be spending time alone with the man, leaving her vulnerable to his charm, she was certain this was part of a larger scheme to return her to his bed.

Connor had shown her a new side of herself she had never known existed until that one night they had shared together. When she thought of that night, she felt such a myriad of emotions. Their joining had been more than just sex. For Alexandra that night had been a replacement of bad memories with good ones. An example of how it was meant to be between a man and a woman. That night had shown her she was capable of loving again.

But returning to his bed would be impossible, for the pain of his betrayal was still fresh. It still hurt that he would place a wager to win her favors like a common whore.

She picked a piece of lint off her blue silk gown. A front gore insert in the skirt was made of darker blue velvet and trimmed with lace. The sleeves hung precariously off her shoulder and came to a gather at her elbow, where the same velvet clung to her arm down to her wrist.

Picking up her perfume bottle, she dabbed a drop of lavender water behind her ears and along the top of her breasts. The neck was cut décolleté, exposing the creamy white tops of her bosom. Her hair was piled atop her head, loose dark curls falling down around her shoulders.

For a man she had no desire to please, she was putting a lot of effort into looking her best. She wanted her appearance to leave him staggering. She wanted him to see everything he had given up with that ridiculous bet.

But she couldn't help but wonder what
would she
do if he made an amorous move toward her tonight. No matter what Connor had done, part of her was eager for his company, longed for his touch, and missed his kisses. Though she had barricaded her heart, there was no way to chain her mind. And though she was loath to admit it, she anticipated their sparing. Yet she would have to be on guard that his easygoing nature did not lead them down a sensual path that could only convey more heartache and pain.

Had she forgiven him for the bet? He'd said it was made before he married her, said it was done before he really knew her. She was trying to forgive
him,
she was trying to put it behind them. But still, it was hard.

A gentle rap on the door let her know it was time. She checked herself in the mirror one last time, and picked up her fan.

As she swung the door open, the breath left her body as she gazed at Connor, his black suit hugging his muscular body. His outfit was completed with a black matching top hat that he carried in his hand. Warning bells rang throughout her head, echoing in the emptiness of her heart.

The man was handsomeness personified.

No wonder her body reacted instantly at the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand. No wonder women fawned all over him. Handsome was much too mild a word to describe his rugged good looks and brawny build. Handsome could never describe the innate charm that seemed to ooze from his pores. Handsome was a word for mere men, not someone like Connor.

Alexandra swallowed and tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

He handed her a prettily wrapped box. "I thought you might like this."

Opening the box revealed small bejeweled opera glasses. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

He had a sheepish look on his face, complete with a boyish smile. "I didn't know if you owned a pair."

"Not here. Most of my possessions are stored in New York at my father's house." The gift brought a smile to her lips that she couldn't quite contain. "Thank you. That was thoughtful."

He held out his arm. "Shall we go?"

For just a moment, she hesitated. Did she dare let herself touch him? Hadn't he already wreaked havoc on her senses once tonight?

She steeled herself for the instant awareness his touch always brought and placed her hand on his arm. Glancing up into his eyes, she said, "I'm ready."

Downstairs, she was surprised to see the landau Connor usually drove was not out front, but in its place was a brougham with one of their servants sitting in the driver's spot. The brougham was an enclosed box that kept the weather and dust to a minimum.

She swallowed nervously. It would take them an hour to drive into town.
An hour of sitting across from one another inside a small box in the dark.
Her heart flittered with anticipation.

God, what was wrong with her? Connor was a devilishly handsome rake, who stimulated her with intelligent conversation and wit, but she was a woman in control. What was she afraid of?

Plenty! For one thing, her body's reaction to his blatant charms and good looks.

They reached the carriage and Connor opened the door. He took her hand, but instead of helping her into the coupe, he lifted the back of her hand to his lips. "You look absolutely ravishing tonight, Mrs. Manning. I'll have to guard you zealously to keep the young bucks away."

"Thank you," she replied, her heart beating an unsteady rhythm as she gazed into the velvet blue of his eyes. How in the world was she going to get through this night if he kept staring at her with such sultry looks?