Gathering her skirts, she hurried back down the stairs and into the main part of the room. “Good afternoon,” she said to his backside, which was all of him that she could see as he crouched to look under her bed. His backside looked exceedingly attractive.
He straightened sharply and whipped around to face her. “Where were you?” he demanded, closing the distance between them. The relief in his face surprised her. Did he really worry that much about misplacing her?
“I was exploring.”
Lucien tilted her chin up with his fingertips and kissed her. “I like exploring.”
She couldn’t answer, because she was too occupied with kissing him back. It amazed her that a touch of lips and mouth could so affect every part of her, inside and out. “And where have you been?” she asked finally. “I haven’t seen you since yesterday.”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
“I brought you something,” he murmured finally, lifting his head.
“Hm. It wouldn’t be a key, or a saw, would it?”
“You don’t seem to have much need for those,” he said dryly. “Take a look.” Lucien gestured at a cloth-covered bundle draped across the bed. Shakespeare stalked about it, sniffing, obviously annoyed at having his territory invaded.
With a sideways glance, Alexandra pulled the covering off the mound. Rich burgundy and gray silk sparkling with beads and lace met her gaze. “It’s a gown,” she said slowly, taking it in.
“Do you like it?”
Alexandra held it up to the candlelight. “Of course I like it. You knew I would. It’s beautiful.”
“Will you wear it?”
“It’s very formal. Are you going to bring Rose’s party down to the cellar, or are you sending me out to the opera?”
The annoyed look he gave her almost made her smile. Let him be aggravated for once. She’d spent the last week in a cellar, for heaven’s sake.
“Rose would like you to be present for the announcement.” Slowly he reached out to brush a strand of her hair from her forehead. “So would I.”
She trembled a little. “And how will you explain my reappearance to Mrs. Delacroix?”
He shrugged, still caressing her cheek with his fingertips, as though he didn’t have a party and his guests and his relations and dinner and a hundred other things to worry about. “I’ll think of something.”
“Once you set me free, I won’t let you lock me up again, you know,” she whispered, trying to read the secrets in his eyes.
“I know. I hope I won’t need to.” Lucien bent his head and kissed her, so thoroughly she had to lean against his chest for balance.
He didn’t seem to be implying that he was giving up, but neither could she imagine that he’d come up with something that would cause her to stay. Shewantedto stay—with him forever, but she simply wasn’t meant to reside in London. Too many people didn’t want her there. If she could only remain because the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey deigned to lend her the protection of his name, then she couldn’t remain. It wouldn’t be right; it wouldn’t be fair—either to her or to her proud, independent parents.
“A quid for your thoughts,” Lucien said softly.
She smiled. “They aren’t worth that much. Don’t you have a dinner party to prepare for?”
With a slight frown he released her. “Yes, I do. And I’m doubling—tripling—your guard, my love. No surprises except for the ones I’m planning.”
He looked so worried that she couldn’t help chuckling. “I daresay I’ll be here for my parole. And, Lucien, whatever else happens, you’re doing a good thing tonight. Rose is very happy.”
“She doesn’t make much of a secret of that.” With a last glance he turned for the door. “She says I’m her hero. Imagine that.”
“The question is, do you like being a hero?”
Lucien paused. “Don’t tell anyone, because it’ll completely destroy my foul reputation—but yes.” He grinned almost sheepishly, looking like a schoolboy who had just pulled a prank. “I think I do. I’ll be back for you in a few hours.”
She plunked herself down on the bed. “I’ll be here.”
