My Wicked Pirate. Rona Sharon
in her bedchamber, a scandal broth would surge all the way to Yorkshire, Dellamore would send half the fleet to collect her, and she would lose all her freedom hereafter. To avoid another slip of the tongue she sampled the dessert cake.
The governor cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve all been invited to my ball tomorrow night. Now, in addition to celebrating the arrival of the accomplished granddaughter of the Duke of Dellamore, we’ll be saluting this victory and many more to come. Please join me in another salute lauding our boys, Marlborough and Savoy, and the valiant troops they command on the Continent. May God bless them and keep them safe!” His salute was accepted heartily.
“What a bloody bullring Milan has become,” Greyson lamented. “When the Vipers were in power, Milan was invincible. The Sforza dukes were fierce warriors, and the Visconti cunning to the last degree. For centuries these united houses put a chill in the hearts of their fellow princes.”
Alanis bit her fork. Always beware of the Viper. What did her pirate have in common with royal Milanese dynasties that had ceased to exist ages ago? She wondered whether Eros and his sister were already gone. If only they stopped blathering, she would be in time to say good-bye…
“If Savoy vanquishes Vendôme in Milan, we just might win this cussed war after all!” the old colonel declared, his scarlet cheeks attesting to the amount of wine he’d put away.
“Jonathan Holbrook, watch your ungoverned tongue!” his wife scolded. “There are ladies present. It is bad enough you subject us to your tasteless discourses. I refuse to put up with the sort of speech I must suffer in the privacy of our home. My dear Mrs. Greyson,” she spoke to the lady at her side, “I insist we leave these warmongers to their port and cigars and take our cake in the next room. I cannot stomach another word on the subject of this horrid war.” Lips pursed, she stood up, forcing the men to their feet and the women to follow suit. “Come along, ladies. We shall leave them to their port and have a better time on our own. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Alanis’s hopes to flee upstairs were dashed, and she had to sit for another hour until Lucas rescued her and they both saw the guests out. They went upstairs in silence. A bundle of nerves, she expected him to open the door and say good night. Yet to her dismay, he followed her inside her apartment. The foyer was dark; a patch of moonlight fell on the carpet. Her eyes flew to the bedchamber door. No bar of light shone underneath. Disappointment lanced her. Eros was gone.
“If you insist on keeping your pirate in this apartment, at least let me put you in another.”
Alanis dropped her silk shawl on the sofa. “He’s not my pirate, Lucas.”
“Are you in love with him, Alis?”
His question numbed her brain. Then, with her best horrified airs she said, “Good Lord! The man is a worthless blackguard, lower than a lowly serf!” And intelligent and interesting and she wished he were here with her instead of Lucas, with whom she was stuck for the rest of her life. “Perhaps we should reconsider our betrothal. We could be making a dreadful mistake.”
“Why? Because I said I’d hang your pirate? I promise I won’t hang him until he heals. But you cannot seriously consider crying off our engagement, Alis. It would break my heart!”
“It would only affect your pride. I’ve yet to see a sign that you possess tender feelings for me. I think you have spent them all on Jasmine.” Hang him when he heals…
“I do care for you, Alis, dearly. We have much in common and a solid friendship. I cannot see why our marriage should not be a success.”
“Well, I can! Perhaps friendship is enough for you, but there is more to a marriage, much more. There should be tender moments and feelings running as deep as one’s soul. There should be longing and excitement. What you describe is as exhilarating as cold porridge!”
Lucas opened his mouth, but she had more to say. “I have always been the docile girl who stayed at home while you went about your business. In your eyes, I’m as pure as snow and loved from afar, but never the…desirable one,” she added uneasily. He’d never even tried to kiss her. In the past, she assumed he was well behaved. Now she knew the real reason: lack of interest. She recalled an old French saying of Madame de Montespan’s: Woman’s greatest ambition is to inspire Love. With Lucas she had clearly failed. On a whim, she said, “Kiss me, Lucas. Kiss me.” If his kiss proved half as ardent as Eros’s, she might reconsider giving them a second chance.
The viscount blanched. Then, hesitantly, his lips touched hers. Shutting her eyes, Alanis concentrated on the feel of his mouth. Nice, she thought, but there was nothing interesting about his kiss, which defied the purpose of the experiment. He was going to be a gentleman about it and it would not do at all. She took an additional bold step and opened her mouth to his.
Lucas tore his mouth away. Alanis froze, feeling self-conscious and gauche. What had she done wrong? He didn’t deem her worthy of an explanation, though. He opened the door and left.
Alanis remained standing alone in the darkness. She considered lighting a lamp but had no desire to encounter her reflection in a mirror. She had seen marble statues with more soul than the reserved ice queen she appeared to be. What was there to love? What was there to kiss? No wonder Lucas was reluctant. There was nothing sensual about her to inflame a man. She wasn’t the spirited Jasmine. She was the cold swan from Yorkshire. Not even worthy of a kiss.
Sobbing silently, she became aware of an odd sensation: She was being watched. Her head came up. A broad-shouldered shape, outlined by moonlight, casually leaned against the window.
“You’re still here!” she exclaimed. She was so glad to see him, it took her a moment to realize Eros must have witnessed her nightmarish scene with Lucas! Did he overhear her saying he was a worthless pirate? Did he see Lucas scorning her kiss?
Eros disengaged from the window and started toward her. Moonbeams poured over his tall, sculpted frame, delineating the fall of his hair. He stopped before her. “Come here.”
Without hesitation she walked into his embrace. His mouth claimed hers, banishing every thought of undesirability from her head, and she was fire again, burning bright and raw. His lips moved hungrily, possessively; his head angled to merge with her mouth. She felt hot and shivery at the same time, intoxicated by his kiss, by the engulfing heat and scent of his seminude body.
Eros’s mouth moved to her ear, breathing, “Ti desidero, Alanis.”
His sultry words filled her head. One didn’t need to be fluent in Italian to understand. He desired her. She rose on her toes and slid her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“You look beautiful standing in my arms in the moonlight, Amore. I should steal you away, and together we’ll explore the magical wonders of the world.”
Unsure what to make of his vague proposal, she whispered, “Where would you take me?”
“The Arabian Sea touches a secret faraway shore where pearls are as copious as the grains of sand.” His voice was deep and tempting. “There is a small town in Morocco called Agadir, where beaches are as white as snow with the most unusual purple sunsets you’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve never seen a purple sunset. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t traveled much.”
“You should. One does not quite experience life until one experiences the world.”
“I want to, more than anything. I’m afraid it is quite beyond my reach, though.”
“Why? You’re not a child. To my best knowledge you’re past the age of twenty-one. There is no reason you shouldn’t realize your dreams, Alanis. Life is too short to be wasted on regrets.”
He had a strong point, but…if it were only that easy. She slid her hands along his muscular bare chest. “Is it true you grew up in the Kasbah of Algiers?”
He tilted his head from side to side. “Not exactly, but in many ways yes. Why? Want to visit the Kasbah?” He grinned challengingly.
She