He was all in black, tall and strong and magnificent. The sight forcefully reminded Alexandra of the Greek statues in the museum. A sculptor couldn’t begin to do justice to Lucien Balfour, though; no piece of stone could possibly capture the glint in his eyes, or the arrogant, confident tilt of his head. She’d always thought that in strength there would be safety, but she knew that being in Lucien’s arms would be dangerous—dangerous to the remains of her reputation, to her hard-won independence, and to her heart.
“You’re staring.”
She blushed furiously. “My apologies. You look very nice this evening.”
Immediately he closed the distance between them. “‘Nice’? Define ‘nice.’”
Damnation. Alexandra stood, so he wouldn’t look so formidable looming over her like that. “I believe your education would have been sufficient to provide you with numerous definitions for the word, my lord.”
He pursed his lips, his gaze taking in every inch of her. “I like your hair loose like that,” he said, and slowly reached out to run his fingers along the strand that hung down her shoulder.
She shivered. “You’ll be late,” she reminded him. “And you shouldn’t be in here.”
“Don’t be missish.” His arm lowered, but his gaze never left her face. “I gave you Monday off,” he said, his soft voice taking the censure from the words. “Not tonight. Attend to your duties, Miss Gallant.”
“I would be serving Rose better if I stayed behind.”
He frowned. “Show a little backbone, Alexandra.”
She blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“Not blunt enough?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t be a coward.”
“I amnota coward.”
“Prove it.”
“This is not for me; it’s for Ro—”
“Now you’re just stalling.Iam Rose’s guardian. Andyouare accompanying us, either in your stockings and over my shoulder, or in your shoes and on your feet.” He tilted her chin up with his long fingertips. “Is that clear?”
Short of stomping about and throwing things, neither of which was likely to do any good, she seemed to have little choice. “Give me a moment, then.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll wait here.”
Kilcairn was clearly in a bullying mood, and though she would have liked to put him in his place, she seated herself and began putting up her hair. Small shivers ran up and down her spine and made her fingers shake every time she looked in the mirror and saw him standing there, watching her. He continued to observe her as she returned the necklace to her throat and fastened her shoes, as if the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey had nothing better to do than pay absolute, utter, and complete attention to her.
“I should hire a maid for you,” he said, leaning forward to lift a last hair clip off the dressing table and hand it to her.
“You don’t think my toilette is adequate?”
He shook his head. “You should have someone to brush your hair for you.”
“I’ve brushed my own hair since I was seventeen,” she said, trying to cover the tremor in her voice. She almost preferred his direct assaults; they were easier to defend against. “Shall we go?”
Lucien nodded. “After you.”
She preceded him down the hallway, still trying to calm the uneasy quavering of her insides. The looks and mutterings didn’t bother her; she had encountered them before, she told herself. It was nothing new, nothing different, and nothing to worry about. Just who she was trying to convince, she had no idea, since she wasn’t listening to any of it.
“No one will give you any trouble tonight,” Lucien’s low voice murmured as they reached the foyer. “I won’t allow it.”
Alexandra stopped. She was almost grateful for the offer of support, because it reminded her that she couldn’t rely on anyone else’s whims to keep her head above water. She’d learned to swim all by herself. “Thank you, my lord, but I can look after my own interests. I am not some shivering peagoose.”
“You’re shivering now,” he said in the same soft voice.
“I am n—”
“Thank goodness you’re coming!” Rose pranced forward and grasped her hand. “Now I shan’t worry about anything.”
