One Night of Sin (24 page)

Unfortunately, Alec did not want to marry her. He had offered, yes, but only out of honor; thus, she could not honorably accept. He had already put his life on the line to save hers, and that was more than anyone could ask. She was not going to commandeer his entire future as well.

Though he would probably accept a revised, sheepish yes instead of her current no, that did not mean he would be happy with their arrangement. No, tied down and domesticated against his will, rakehell Alec would soon begin to chafe against his bonds, and Becky mused uneasily on the knowledge that that would soon make her the object of his resentment. Lord, she thought with a shudder. Even ruin was better than that.

With his hedonist’s low tolerance for boredom, it was easy to envision things going from bad to worse, the two of them living apart, she in Yorkshire while he dwelled in Town, resuming his former habits of chasing any empty pleasure. What deeper hell could there be for a wife wed to—worse, in love with—an untamed, gorgeous philanderer for a husband who could have any woman he fancied?

A man like that could leave a woman shattered. Becky intended to spend her life with someone who genuinely wanted to be with her, in return: She deserved that.

Perhaps you should have thought of that last night,
observed her conscience, where guilt had set in with a vengeance. There had to be some reasonable solution, but her heart told her that a marriage of duty would only lead to disaster. If, on the other hand, they could love each other . . .

A soft stirring in the room broke the surface of Becky’s light rest. She opened her eyes slowly and found Alec staring at her, frozen in mid-motion as he attempted to cross the room stealthily.

“Oh—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said at once in a sheepish whisper. “I just came to, er, check on you. I was going to shut the blinds.” He gestured vaguely at the windows, where the brilliant afternoon sun streamed in.

Becky gave him a languid smile and held out her hand to him. “It’s all right. Leave them. I like the light. Come.”

He obeyed.

“Checking on me, eh?” she murmured, rolling onto her side and watching him in womanly satisfaction as he walked around to the other side of the bed. “That’s very sweet.”

He had taken off his morning coat, and Becky’s gaze moved with pleasure over the sleek lines of his slim waist in his dark, buttoned vest. His loose shirtsleeves of neat linen were cuffed tightly around his wrists.

“Yes, well, actually. About that . . .” He sat down on the edge of the bed at a respectful distance, half turning to her. “I’ve been wondering all morning if you’re . . . well, if you’re all right.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said with a reassuring smile, then shook her head with a trace of regret. “I’m just . . . so very sorry to have dragged you into all of this.”

“Don’t be.” He reached over and took her hand.

Their joined hands rested on the smooth white coverlet between them.

“The truth is, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said softly, then lowered his head. “I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking this morning about some of the things you said.

“Really?” She came up onto one elbow and tilted her head, studying him. “Which things?”

“Ah, your objection to the way my friends and I treat women.” He scratched his cheek and then flashed her a quick, wry smile. “The fact that you assumed, based on my manner, that I wouldn’t care about your plight, that I was only having fun. I suppose I do come across as rather selfish now and then, and maybe sometimes I am, but . . . I do care, Becky.” He dropped his gaze. “I want you to know that. Perhaps I give the impression of a man no woman ought to trust too much, but for all that, it’s just a game.”

She watched him in patient curiosity.

He shook his head. “I had no idea the kind of trouble you were in. But I swear to you, if I had known—”

“Shh,” she soothed, reaching out to caress his shoulder. “I already know.”

He looked into her eyes. “You could have confided in me.”

“I realize that now. I feel a bit foolish, actually. Please don’t reproach yourself for me.”

“It bothers me.” He lowered his gaze, stroking her hand with the pad of his thumb. “And I think it bothers you, as well.” He sent her a wary glance from beneath his forelock and shrugged. “There’s obviously a reason you’ve refused me.”

She paused. “My refusal quite surprised you,” she remarked in a cautious tone.

“Well, yes,” he averred. “Not to boast, but Society girls have tried on numerous occasions to trap me in matrimony. The thing of it is, they don’t really know me at all. All they see is this.” He glanced around meaningfully at the opulent ducal house. “External things. My family connections.”

Becky furrowed her brow. “Are you implying they wouldn’t still want you if they knew you better?”

He lifted his eyebrows and looked away. “You didn’t.”

“Alec.”

“No, it’s all right. Don’t make excuses for me. If I had been the sort of man you could have readily trusted, you would still be a virgin. Instead, I’ve ruined you. I’ve learned to live with many sins, but I don’t know how I’m going to live with that one.” He searched the ceiling as though the answers might be written above. “I wish you’d marry me. It would make me feel a damned lot better, anyway.”

“Look at me.” Becky sat up as Alec reluctantly met her forceful gaze. She reached over and caressed his clean-shaved cheek, trying to chase away the brooding look in his eyes. “I don’t regret what we did.”

For a long moment he absorbed this, and slowly lowered his lashes. At length, he heaved a sigh, his lips twisting in a sardonic half smile. “You scare me,” he said flatly.

She smiled. “I know.” Moving closer, she draped her arms around him, careful not to touch his bandaged cut, concealed beneath his shirtsleeve. “Fortunately, I’ve already seen that you are heroically brave, Alec, so I trust you will not run away in terror of little old me.”

“I’ll try.” He turned his face to press a little kiss into her palm and then got up restlessly, crossing to the bay of windows.

Becky watched him in affectionate silence.

“Whatever I am today, it’s not what I intended to become,” he said after a long pause, staring out the window. Then he let out a low snort of laughter and drawled, “Even such a jaded scoundrel as I had dreams of greatness at eighteen.”

Becky gazed tenderly at him. “What was your dream, Alec?”

“I wanted to join the cavalry,” he said in stark, quiet honesty, sending her a rueful smile over his shoulder. “Give Boney a thrashing.”

She smiled back at him in fond warmth. It was all too easy to imagine him as a bold cavalry officer, swaggering out of the Horse Guards, too dashing to bear in that handsome uniform. Cavalry men were notoriously cocky, with a reputation for enjoying life to the full while it lasted; they tended to die gloriously, and young.

“So, why didn’t you?”

“It was not to be.” He turned toward her and leaned against the deep window frame. “Robert insisted I could not be spared for ‘cannon fodder.’ As head of the family, his word is usually law.”

“He refused to buy you a commission?”

“Not exactly. It was . . . more than that. You see, Rob inherited his title at the age of seventeen. He’s always been more father than brother to the rest of us. The dutiful sort. Starchy, ultraresponsible.”

“What, then, did you two have a falling out?”

“Quite the contrary. One thing that resulted from my mother’s defection was that it made us all band together with unusually fierce loyalty to one another. Well, Jack still has problems, but that’s another story. The rest of us have always made quite a close-knit tribe.” Alec shrugged. “As we boys grew into men, Jack went off to sea, the twins joined the army, and when it finally came my turn to do something with my life, Robert said that given the others’ slim chances of survival, I must consider myself next in line for the dukedom. The nominal ‘spare.’ ”

“Gracious.”

“I know. Can you imagine me a duke?” He laughed bleakly. “He said that if the others died, and if anything happened to him, as well, I’d be the only one left to watch over the family concerns. He was convinced—with good reason, perhaps—that our middle brothers would not be coming back alive. As mighty as the all-powerful Hawkscliffe appears, the big brother in him simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing all of us after he had practically raised us himself. Starchy as he is, family has always come first for Rob.” Alec shook his head slowly, his face half in light, half in shadow. “After all that he had done for us, I couldn’t put him through that. So I put my shiny saber away and I stayed.”

Becky was quiet for a long moment. “Your devotion to your family is to be admired.”

He shrugged, brushing off his own valor. “As I said, I owe Rob a great deal. He was little more than a boy himself when our mother was lost, but he held our family together. He is the finest man I know,” he said softly. Sauntering over to the round-backed armchair nearby, he sat, resting his elbows on his knees. He steeped his fingers and smiled idly, mysteries churning in his eyes behind his droll stare. “So, while my brothers went off to become heroes of the nation, I took to the easy life in Town and set out to become a London peacock.”

“A peacock?” she echoed as a smile skimmed her lips.

He nodded in self-deprecating amusement and sat back in his chair, lounging in his luxurious way. “We Knight brothers, you see, are, as a rule, always the best at what we do, so, naturally, I had to be the best damned strutting cock there was.”

“I see. And what did that entail?”

“Living fast and wild, playing hard, spending my winnings like water. Taking mad dares for no better reason than the moment’s thrill. Seducing anything in skirts—well, never mind that. Launching into duels for any pinprick to my honor.”

“Really? You’ve been in duels?”

“They can’t be avoided when you live that way. Oh, I’ve had my share of enemies, believe me.”

“So, that’s why you’re such a good fighter.”

“Don’t praise me,
cherie,
” he said dryly. “My ego, I’m told, is already larger than the moon.” He rested his cheek on his fist, gazing at her. “But it seems I did succeed on rather a grand scale. Leader of the pack. Captain of all London rakehells, they called me. Oh, yes, I quite gloried in my celebrity for a while. Then the war ended, the heroes came home—”

“Your middle brothers all survived?”

“Yes, thankfully. I wasn’t needed at all. Then Robert sired a son to carry on the family line . . . and ever since then, well, hell, I have no idea what I’m even here for.” He let out a low snort and looked out the window. “Lord, why am I telling you all this?”

She got up and went to him, seating herself on his lap. She draped her arms around his neck and regarded him matter-of-factly.

Alec just looked at her, his cheek still resting on his fist. Though his tone of voice had remained as wryly nonchalant as ever, his expression now was a little apprehensive, and slightly glum.

She gave him a hug and then kissed his cheek. “You’re so much more than just a London peacock, Alec Knight. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a fairly wonderful man.”

“Mm.” He considered this. “I warned you about complimenting me.”

“Too bad. It’s true.”

“Fairly wonderful?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll take that.”

She smiled at him, smoothing his golden forelock out of his eyes, offering silent, uncomplicated affection. He seemed to relax gradually under her touch.

“My dear Alec,” she offered at length, shaking her head. “Of course there’s a reason you’re here. You just haven’t found it yet.”

“Maybe I have,” he answered, looking into her eyes with new, steamy intent. He wrapped his arm around her hip and pulled her more securely onto his lap.

They studied each other in a long, searching stare, until she quivered, resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes. “Alec.”

“Becky,” he breathed.

She thrilled to the sensation of his hand climbing up her side. She shifted restlessly on his lap and tilted her head, offering her lips.

He cupped her nape. “God, I want you.” He kissed her deeply, his other hand traveling up and down her back. She responded with a soft, eager moan, tightening her gentle hold around his neck.

Desire threatened to rage out of control in mere seconds. Alec stopped himself and pulled back, shaking his head. His eyes were closed; he wore a pained look on his face. “We can’t do this anymore. You do realize that?”

“We can’t kiss?” she protested, panting.

“Kiss . . . perhaps. But nothing more.” As his eyes swept open, he held her in a tantalized stare.

“Why not?”

“Angel, don’t tempt me.” He caressed her lips with his fingertip, his gaze following his hand. “You are not mine. A man can be forgiven once for an error made in ignorance, but now that I know the truth, it would be wrong.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong,” she whispered, but he merely hushed her, laying his finger gently over her lips.

He shook his head. She acquiesced, bowing her head obediently. For another moment or two his eyes glowed with the deep luster of sapphires. He licked his lips unconsciously, and Becky looked away, suppressing a groan.

The knowledge that their bond must be more than physical if it was to succeed helped bring her back to her senses. Their close association until their quest was done was going to be torment, but somehow she managed to rise from his lap and remove herself to the safer distance of the bed.

He smiled knowingly at her, sharing her frustration, then he reached into the breast pocket of his waistcoat. “This should cheer you up.” He tossed over a thick wad of paper banknotes held together with a gold clip bearing his monogram.

“Good heavens, Alec! Where did you get all this?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” he teased. “Everything’s arranged for Brighton. We’ll take a post chaise at midnight and get there in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can’t double that tonight at vingt-et-un.”

“Where?”

“A gambling hell I know. I make a point of playing where the tables aren’t rigged.”