My Lady Rival (24 page)

A lex whirled her toward him and kissed her fast and hard, then broke away. He started walking again.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me. I’m supposed to be your sister. What if someone had seen?”

A lex laughed and reached over, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. He liked the way she fit against his side: comfortable, like she was supposed to belong there. “To tell you the truth, I honestly don’t care. A ll I want to do is get to our inn, eat my supper, go to my room, and sleep until noon tomorrow.” A few minutes later—or it could have been ten or fifteen minutes later, as he’d lost all track of time and was too tired to pull out his pocket watch again—Willa said, “Did you want me to walk beside you so you could lean on me for support?”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Willa startled awake, breathless, heart pounding. She searched the darkness of the small bedchamber at the Three Crowns. Nothing there. No one. Nothing to wake her.

Sighing deeply, she lay back and turned over, hugging her pillow to her chest.

She closed her eyes.

“Willa!” A lex’s voice. A banging on the door. “Willa, wake up!” Throwing back the coverlet, Willa scooted to the edge of the bed and lit the oil lamp nearby. She grabbed her dressing gown and wrapped it tightly around her waist, then ran to the door.

A s soon as it opened A lex rushed her, picking her up and spinning her around.

“It works, it works!”

Willa gave a shriek, clutching tightly to his shoulders. It made him laugh as he spun her again, and she smiled at the joy in his eyes. He set her down. “A lex—” He picked her up and spun her around again. Three times, the dark wood of the walls and the light from the lamp blurring beyond his face. When he put her down, Willa lifted her eyebrows, waiting.

He grinned. “I’m done, I promise.”

“A lex—”

“Look at my hands, Willa.” He held up his hands, palms forward. “No dye!” Over the span of several seconds the pieces finally clicked together. “Your new process works?”

“Yes!” He moved behind her and shut her door, then took her by the hand and led her to the bed.

She understood that it was a matter to celebrate, and she had just been having a terrific dream that involved her, A lex, and a bed—one much larger than this one, though—but still . . . this was rather sudden. She was still half asleep.

“A h . . . A lex—”

“Sit down.”

She sat, then stood and opened her mouth to speak again, but he’d already whirled away, pacing the floor. “Oh,” she murmured to herself as she sat on the bed. He wasn’t thinking about romance, after all.

“I have you to thank, Willa,” he said, pointing at her and smiling as he paced.

“You do?”

“Yes. I was lying in bed after supper, trying to go to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that bloody innkeeper went on and on about this afternoon.”

afternoon.”

“Merriman, you mean.”

“Yes, him. He was talking about his mother, and how she used to create the most fabulous blackberry cobbler—”

“Berry.”

He stopped, staring at her with his brows slammed together. “What?” Willa shifted on the bed. “There were blackberries, but blueberries and raspberries, too. It was a wild berry cobbler, not just a blackberry cobbler.” He stared at her harder, then shook his head and continued pacing. “Regardless, I remember how he spoke about her complaints with it. The juice always got on her hands and clothes, staining them.”

He looked back at her. Willa nodded.

“No matter what she tried, she couldn’t remove the stains from her clothes. I was lying in bed, thinking about this, cursing the innkeeper and his mother and her blackberry cobblers—”

“Berry cobblers,” Willa interjected. Merriman’s mother had sounded like a truly wonderful woman; she deserved for her memory to be preserved correctly. A nd it made Willa feel like she was contributing something.

“Yes, yes, berry cobblers, whatever they were. I was furious that I couldn’t go to sleep because I was so tired—you saw me earlier.”

She nodded again, hoping he was going to get to the end soon. She’d just realized that her hair was unbound, and her feet were bare, and although he didn’t seem to notice, she was now very aware of her state of undress.

He smacked his hands together. “A nd then it came to me! The reason why it never worked isn’t because the process was wrong; it’s because the dye has to be sealed.”

Truly. She had no idea what he was talking about. But he looked delicious standing there, his dark hair wild and his shirt unbuttoned so that she could see the deep V of his chest. He wore no waistcoat or jacket, no cravat either, and now that Willa was fully aware of her own state of undress, she was even more fully aware of his state of undress. A nd they were alone together. In her bedchamber.

With her door closed. She was sitting on the bed. A nd he wasn’t ravishing her.

Willa gave a small sigh. “I see.” Of course she knew that he wouldn’t be interested in ravishing her in the least. He was excited about the fact that his new process that would make him thousands upon thousands of pounds finally worked, and that was important. He also didn’t like her very much even though he could lust after her—as evidenced by the carriage incident—and that might have been a reason to influence his decision in not ravishing her.

Even knowing all this, it was still a tad disappointing to stare at the man she wanted to be ravishing her, wishing that she could ravish him, while he continued to talk incessantly for ten more minutes about dye and sealing and chemicals and heat and whatnot.

A ctually, he went on for twenty more minutes. Then he suddenly stopped and stared at her.

stared at her.

He stepped forward with a frown and took her hand. He looked at their two hands joined together, then up at her face. “Thank you, Willa.” He paused, then cursed. “I left lamps burning in the factory. I must go before the disastrous occurs and a fire starts. MacFadden would have my head if his mill were destroyed—” He smiled at her and caught her up in his arms, spinning her around once more, then laughing as he set her down. “No, it will be my mill soon.” Willa braced her hand against the bed pilaster. “If it’s not destroyed by fire.”

“Right.” He opened the door. “Thank you, Willa. Thank you for everything.” She smiled again; his joy was infectious, even if she hardly felt like what she’d done merited his praise. Well, except for the Merriman bit. That had been pure genius. “You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met, and his smile faded as he stared at her. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him, and Willa flopped back upon the bed with a shuddering sigh.

A lex Laurie had succeeded in creating a process for nonsaturation that would change the world for dye makers—and, more specifically, for him. He would be rich beyond measure and successful.

He was happy, she should have been happy, and . . .

It was a horrible time to realize that she was in love.

Willa was dreaming.

Even in the dream she knew it was a dream, and somehow this made the dream even more pleasant. She could choose not to wake up. She could stay in this dream with A lex forever if she wished.

“Willa.”

She loved the way he said her name. A s though it were a secret shared between only the two of them, something precious and cherished.

She walked toward his outstretched arms, freely moving, without hesitation. She didn’t have to pretend that she’d rather be somewhere else. She didn’t have to protect her heart any longer. They would finally be together.

“A lex.”

She said his name even though her lips didn’t move.

Then they were at Woolstone’s cottage again, except that in her dream she didn’t sneeze. She told him this, and he smiled at her while holding her hand.

They walked through the garden and he picked flowers for her—roses, yes, but lilies and orchids and daisies, too. He tucked one behind each of her ears, then more in her hair.

The Willa that knew it was a dream became impatient. She wanted him to kiss her.

A nd so he did.

Plucking out one of the flowers he’d just placed in her hair, he brushed the petals beneath her chin, tickling her, as his head bent. His lips—

petals beneath her chin, tickling her, as his head bent. His lips—

Willa’s eyes flew open. The black void of the small inn’s bedchamber greeted her.

She groaned. The dream had disappeared.

Huffing, she turned restlessly onto her back and stared into the dark above. It wasn’t fair. He’d been just about to kiss her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his lips on hers—

“Willa!” A lex’s voice. He was knocking on her door again.

This time Willa didn’t move as quickly. She didn’t want him to know she was thrilled to see him, after all. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling, stretched her toes toward the end of the bed. A rched her back and rolled her head from side to side.

She sighed, pleased with her own apparent nonchalance regarding A lex’s reappearance. She might be in love, but that didn’t mean she needed him. It didn’t mean she would run to him with excitement every time he was near.

“Willa!”

Oh, God. What if the factory truly had been on fire?

Willa tore the covers away and rushed to the door, not bothering with the lamp or her dressing gown or anything else. She flung the door open, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, and stared at A lex.

He didn’t smell like smoke. His face wasn’t streaked with soot or ash. No signs of burns on his skin or clothes.

Willa exhaled a shaky breath and sagged against the door. “A re you all right?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping toward her. “I forgot this.”

A nd then he kissed her.

Kissing Willa was one of the smartest things A lex had ever done; in fact, he should have done it earlier that evening. Yesterday. Every minute of every day since the last time he’d kissed her.

Cupping the delicate bones of her jaw between his palms, he walked her backward into the darkened bedchamber and closed the door with a kick of his foot. The darkness of the room seemed to ease the tension from her body; she melted into him as if his kiss, his touch, everything he wanted to do to her in the inky black nothingness surrounding them, would forever be a pleasant little secret between them.

A lex drew back. He didn’t want to be dismissed so easily in the future.

“I’m going to turn the lamp on,” he said, laughing low when she made a mewling sound of frustration. The light flared in the glass, a steady but dim flame. Still, it was enough to see her, and that was all he needed.

A lex didn’t ask her to come to him, because he couldn’t be certain that she would obey him. Instead he went to her, drawing her between his arms as his hands sifted through her long, gloriously golden hair. He’d never seen another woman’s hair like it; he wanted to wrap himself in her hair, to use it to keep her always within his reach. He thought of telling her that he would never let her go, always within his reach. He thought of telling her that he would never let her go, but it sounded like a lie, something to be said when a man held a woman in his arms.

No lies. No words, if he could help it. Nothing to make her break away or doubt him.

Her lips were restless, seeking his over and over though he tried to settle against her, to assure her that this time he wouldn’t dismiss her. He’d been a fool to think he could protect them both so easily.

“Willa,” he whispered against her lips.

Very well. One word. But only her name. That was all he needed. He pressed it against her mouth again, then on her cheek, the underside of her jaw . . . lower, to the side of her throat. Her hands pulled and tangled in his hair, clutching him toward her. She didn’t speak, either, not even his name. Only her small staccato whimpers and breathy little sighs floated through the air, urging him on when he pushed her against the edge of the bed like a hasty lover, when his hand cupped and squeezed her breast like a young, inexperienced boy.

“Willa.” He kissed the name to her shoulder, then laid his forehead in the crook of her neck.

He felt the subtle movement at her throat as she swallowed. “A lex? I’m not sure

— A re we—?”

He breathed in the scent of her, wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. She felt so slender and fragile to hold. How had he never noticed before?

Lifting his head, he caught her gaze and moved them until he could see her eyes in the lamplight. He knew what he wished to do. It was the same thing he’d wished ever since he’d first met her and saw her smile. He wanted her for himself.

He desperately wanted to keep her, as his and his alone.

But their lives weren’t where they were three years ago, when he might have been able to promise her the next day, or the next day after that. A ll he could offer was this: one reality inside of a dream that could never be.

“I want to give you every day for the rest of our lives, but I can only give you tonight.” He looked into her eyes, their color the same as when he’d first complimented her, the bluest blue of the Mediterranean ocean he’d sailed upon before arriving in Italy. “Tell me to go and I’ll go. A sk me to stay and I’ll stay.” He bent his head to kiss her once more, then drew his arms back and stepped away.

“Tell me what you want, Willa.”

Tell me what you want, Willa.

“That’s a dangerous opening, Mr. Laurie,” she said, smiling.

“Not Mr. Laurie,” he corrected her. “I’m A lex right now.” She nodded, suddenly uncertain of him. Of herself, most of all. “Yes. A lex.” He waited for her to speak when she would have preferred for him to kiss her again. She, who desired control of her life most of all, wanted him to take it away at the moment when it was offered to her.

He offered her options. A lex Laurie was a gentleman, despite the fact that he He offered her options. A lex Laurie was a gentleman, despite the fact that he tried to disguise himself as a self-seeking commoner most days. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Her answer was immediate, without hesitation. Of everything she did want, she knew it wasn’t for him to go.