The Untamed Earl (13 page)

She smoothed a curl away from her forehead. “What if that doesn't work?”

“Knee him between the legs. Then come find me. I'll handle the wretch for you.” His voice was thunderous.

A thrill rushed down Alex's spine. His offer was positively tempting, but she needed to follow through with this line of questioning. She had a plan. A daring one. “What if he succeeds?” she ventured, smoothing her gloved hand down the front of her lavender gown. “In kissing me, I mean.”

Owen's head snapped up. His face had hardened into a mask of stone. “Has that happened before?”

“No, of course not, but then again, I haven't been flirting before. What if I'm superbly effective? I want to ensure that I'm prepared for success.”

Owen's hand clenched into a fist. “If some overly eager blighter tries to get you alone, say no. He won't kiss you in public.”

“Are you quite sure?” Alex prodded.

“Entirely. I'll call him out myself since your brother is still not of age.”

Another thrill shot down her spine. Lord Owen Monroe calling out an overly eager suitor on her behalf? Who would ever imagine? Well, besides her.

Alex cleared her throat. “There is one man whom I'd quite like to kiss me, but—”

“Who?” The word shot out like a crack against the nearest wall.

Alex stumbled over her words. Perhaps she shouldn't have said that. “He's the—I mean to say—He's—”

“Forgive me,” Owen replied. “You're speaking of the chap from whom you're hoping for an offer, of course.”

All Alex could do was nod. “Yes, but if another man, a man I don't want to kiss me, tries to do so, I'd like to be prepared.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Prepared how?”

“I think I should practice, if you'd be so kind.” She did her best to maintain a straight face.

Owen scowled. “Practice? What do you mean?”

Alex twined her fingers together and rocked back and forth. “I mean that you should try to kiss me and I'll practice my reaction.”

Owen's blue eyes widened once more but just as quickly reverted to their normal size. “I'm not certain—”

She crossed her arms over her chest matter-of-factly. The only way this would work was if she pretended it was all merely part of the lessons. She needed to act as if it were nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. “Honestly, Owen. You cannot teach me how to flirt and then leave me to fend off a possibly lecherous suitor on my own with no training whatsoever.” She tapped her slippered foot on the parquet floor.

He scratched his head, but she could tell by the dawning look of acceptance on his face that he was coming around to her way of thinking.
Excellent.

“Very well.” He sighed. “I'll try to kiss you and you can sidestep me and slap me with your fan. Of course, this should be done only in the most extreme set of circumstances, and again, I highly recommend you do not go anywhere alone with anyone who might make such an untoward advance.”

“I understand completely,” she assured him, trying to quell the nerves that had raced through her chest ever since he'd uttered the words “I'll try to kiss you.”

Owen straightened his cravat and squared his shoulders. Then he faced her, puffing up his chest and waggling his eyebrows in a comical manner. “You look so ravishing this evening, Lady Alexandra. Your beauty has enchanted me, and I fear I'm overcome with my passions.”

She couldn't help her laugh. “Overcome with your passions?”

He cracked a smile. “Don't make sport. I'm certain many a chap has said worse. Not me, of course. I have much more style than that, but I'm guessing at what a sop would say when he was about to make an indecent advance upon a lady of stellar reputation.”

Alex gave him a skeptical once-over. “Do you mean to say you've never made an indecent advance?”

Owen's grin was unrepentant. “Certainly not. I've made more than I can count, but never on a lady whose reputation was at stake.”

Her laughter continued. “Never on someone like me, you mean?”

“Precisely.” He bowed.

“Very well, carry on.” She fluttered her hand in the air. “What were you saying, Mr. Suitor?”

He
tsk
ed her. “Aim higher. He should at least be Lord Suitor.”

She shook her head at him. “Fine. What were you saying, Lord Suitor?”

“My passions. I am overcome by them,” Owen said in a louder-than-normal, overly dramatic voice that made Alex shake her head and laugh again.

“And what do you propose to do about them? Do you intend to declare yourself?” she asked.

He pulled her into his arms, and Alex abruptly stopped laughing. Her breath caught in her throat.

“No. I intend to do this.” Owen's mouth swooped down toward hers. Alex knew … this was the moment she was supposed to sidestep him, was supposed to move away, deliver a crushing setdown, slap him with her fan, slap him with her hand. Both hand and fan were at the ready, even. But the moment his mouth moved toward hers, all she could think about was feeling his warm lips against hers. She didn't move away, not an inch, and Owen's mouth met hers in a hot, tangled kiss.

At first it was as if a tiny bolt of lightning froze them together. The shock of it caused them to root to their respective spots. But then Owen moved his lips, and Alexandra's hands slipped up his shirtfront and around his neck, anchoring him to her. His mouth shifted over hers. Her lips parted and his tongue boldly stroked inside. Alex's knees buckled.

Owen's large hands were there to catch her and instead of pushing her away, he pulled her up against his hard, muscled body, and Alex moaned. Owen's mouth slashed over hers, and his tongue slid inside her mouth again and again, owning her. He groaned, too, and Alex clung to him, afraid she would fall to a heap on the fine floor if she let go of his strong neck. He smelled like expensive cologne and a hint of smoke and wood spice. She laced her fingers together behind his neck and leaned up into the kiss even more.

When Owen finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily. So was she.

His eyes were wide with surprise. “You didn't move.”

“You kissed me.” She pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to correct the fact that she couldn't breathe properly. What a kiss that had been! Entirely knee-weakening. Just as she'd hoped it would be. Just as she'd dreamed it would be. Ooh, perhaps being daring
was
an acquired skill. She certainly liked it so far.

“I kissed you because I thought you were going to slap me.” Owen eyed her as if she were some exotic species of animal he'd never seen before.

But the unspoken words hung in the air, too, along with the lust from their kiss. He'd kissed her far longer and with far more aplomb than he'd needed to in order to simply be staging a kiss from an overactive suitor. She wanted to ask him why he hadn't stopped, but at the same time she didn't want to know. She couldn't bear it if he told her he hadn't wanted to kiss her. No. She would just leave it alone.

“I forgot to slap you,” she admitted.

They stared at each other. Attraction leaped between them. Alex looked away first. What else could she say to him?

He scrubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “I suggest you take my original advice. Stay away from suitors who ask you to go anywhere with them alone.”

All she could do was nod jerkily and press her burning lips together.

“Do you have what you need to court Lavinia?” she asked with a slightly shaking voice.

“I think so.”

“The ball is tomorrow night,” she breathed. That was an idiotic thing to say.

“Do you think you can employ what we've discussed?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Is the man whom you fancy going to be there?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Unexpected tears stung Alex's eyes at the thought of their meetings here in Cassandra's ballroom coming to an end. What if everything Alex had told him didn't work? What if Lavinia changed her mind and fell madly in love with him? What if her parents forced Lavinia to marry him regardless? Oh, there were so many possibilities. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him for herself. Why had she thought any of this was a good idea?

Because she'd wanted to spend time in his company at any price. That's why.

“Me, too,” he replied. “I'll see you there.” He pulled her hand up to his lips, and Alex closed her eyes to savor the feel of it. “Save the first dance for me.”

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Owen tugged off his cravat while he waited for his valet to respond to his call. It was time to dress for the Rutherfords' ball, but the thought made him vaguely uneasy. He did not look forward to spending time with Lady Lavinia. Good God. The things Alex had told him over the last few days about her sister. Why, the woman was a complete muddle. He'd been somewhat encouraged to hear that she didn't mind forcefulness, drinking, and a bit of gambling, but to hear that she expected him to write her poetry, sing love ballads, and was frightened of horses, well, that was more than disappointing. And she wanted a rock? Truly? The lady was clearly a bit mad.

But who would know her better than her sister, and a sister who was obviously motivated to assist him? For the life of him, Owen couldn't understand why Alex was the one having trouble in Society. She was beautiful, funny, intelligent, and full of pluck. Her sister might be more classically lovely, but that had never been Owen's sort. He much preferred a lady who surprised him, which Alex had continually done since he'd met her.

Owen sighed and paced across his bedchamber. It didn't matter, did it? Alex wasn't the one he was set to marry, and besides, she'd made it clear that she already had her eye on some chap. That was why she was so intent upon improving her status in Society. Not only that, but Owen's father had implied that the duke intended his daughters to marry in order of their age, and Alex was younger, which also explained why she was intent upon helping him. The sooner Lavinia was matched, the sooner Alex could set about becoming betrothed herself.

Owen couldn't help but dwell upon the references Alex had made to the man of her dreams. She'd even admitted that she'd like to kiss him. And possibly meet him in the conservatory. He smiled at the memory. That had been refreshing, too. Most young innocents would simper and affect demureness. Not Alex. Owen briefly wished he hadn't interrupted her answer when he'd asked who the man was yesterday. Whoever he was, he was one lucky bastard. Owen hoped the man knew it. Not to mention the unidentified man bloody well owed Owen a drink or three for taking Alex's shrewish elder sister off their parents' hands, clearing the way for his suit of Alex. Owen scowled. Why did that thought make him feel vaguely angry … and a bit jealous? He was never jealous.

No matter. No doubt he'd been contemplating Alex more than he would normally consider a young virtuous lady because their mutual goal had kept them in each other's company of late. In fact, other than his mother and Cass, he'd never spent so much time with a female outside of bed. It was a unique situation, to be sure. And one that was causing him no end of confusion.

But there were two other things that kept popping up in his mind over and over. He couldn't seem to banish them. The first was Alex asking him what he hoped to accomplish in life. It was a question his father had asked him on countless occasions. A question that usually made him want to go out and drink until he forgot it. But when Alex asked, for the first time, Owen had actually wondered at the answer himself. He'd had a thought, a time or two, about some of the things he'd like to do one day when he assumed his seat in Parliament. He'd bloody well die before he admitted it to his father, but Owen had been reading the papers and paying attention to politics for years. He just never permitted anyone to know it. Only his valet knew he scoured the papers and all the political pamphlets he could get his hands on. “Don't confuse me with someone noble,” he'd said. “I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” Alex had answered. “Whether you know it or not.” Those words haunted him. How was it that Alex, of all people—sweet, innocent, young Alex—could see in him something he couldn't even see in himself?

The second thing Owen couldn't forget was that kiss. The one he'd shared with Alex yesterday in Cass's ballroom. The one that should never have happened. The one Alex should have slapped him for, should have pushed away from. Instead, she hadn't moved an inch … almost as if she'd … wanted it. It was ludicrous, but the thought preoccupied him. Not to mention he'd tossed and turned in bed all night, completely racked with lust over an innocent he should never have touched. It didn't help matters that he'd been without the company of a woman since—by God, since he'd met Alex. That was interesting. It seemed the little innocent was twisting him into knots.

His valet entered the room just then. “I've pressed your formal evening attire, my lord. I thought perhaps the sapphire waistcoat.”

“That's fine,” Owen replied, still trying to shake Alex from his thoughts.

“You'll be attending the Rutherfords' ball this evening, correct?” the valet asked.

“Yes.” Owen pulled his shirttails over his head to change into the fresh ones. “That's right. I'm about to make a wallflower the most sought-after young lady in London.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Alex was going to cast up her accounts tonight. She was certain of it. Hannah had dressed her with painstaking care. She wore a shell pink gown of satin with tiny embroidered flowers around the high waist, capped sleeves, and embedded pearls along the bodice. Her hair was caught up in a chignon with a few tendrils curled around her cheeks. A pearl necklace and a delicate matching bracelet completed the ensemble. The young woman who stared back at her in the looking glass, however, appeared more anxious than beautiful, as far as she was concerned.