Something was shifting between them. Subtly changing. Becoming more than a battle of wills. More even than an intense, fiery attraction.
Alexander was starting to feel perilously close to caring about the girl.
Caring far, far more than he should.
This thought finally brought Alexander crashing back to the reality of the situation they were in. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips from hers, grasping her shoulders and gently pushing her from him.
Olivia gazed up at him, her eyes glazed with passion, a look of wonder in them, and Alexander felt his heart stutter at that look.
“Damn,” he whispered softly. He had no clue how to deal with this.
To his surprise, she smiled ruefully.
“My sentiments exactly.”
Alexander cleared his throat, suddenly as nervous as a green lad his first time with a lady.
“Yes, well, we — we cannot stand about all day doing — well, doing, or not doing something. Or nothing. Wait, what?”
Olivia was staring at him as though he had run mad, which he very probably had.
He was tying himself into knots, stammering nonsensical gibberish. And all because his blood had travelled considerably farther south than his brain.
“Alexander, what exactly are you talking about,” she snapped impatiently.
Her acerbic tone and its familiarity served to bring him back to himself somewhat.
He heaved a sigh, got his scrambled thoughts into some sort of order, and then, finally, was able to answer with equanimity.
“You drive me to bloody distraction, Olivia Darington. More than anyone I’ve ever met. And you, a mere slip of a girl.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open, and Alexander could have kicked himself. Why had he gone and confessed such a thing?
“But that is neither here nor there,” he hurried on before she issued what would no doubt be a caustic rejoinder. “Now, why don’t you finally tell me what you wanted me for?”
Olivia didn’t answer for some time, choosing instead to gaze at him as though he’d grown another head. He couldn’t blame her really.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, she shook her head slightly, and he noted the glint of battle sparkle in her chocolate-brown eyes.
They really where beautiful, those eyes. She didn’t deserve them. He’d never paid that much attention to them before, but he was captivated by them now. Of course, they had been more beautiful when they’d been rendered blank by his ministrations but—
“Fincham!”
The screech of his name brought him back to earth with a thud. Oh right, she’d been speaking.
“Are you quite alright?” she demanded, hissing out a frustrated breath. ”Because if discussing strategy is a little beyond your mental capabilities, I’ll just deal with this myself.”
Ah, there was the little hell-cat he’d come to know and lo—
Alexander felt his eyes widen in horror. He was going nowhere near the end of that thought.
“What in God’s name is thematterwith you?” She stomped her foot and Alexander was disgusted with himself for finding it rather endearing.
“Forgive me. I — ah — over imbibed last night,” he said quickly.” And did you just stamp your foot at me?”
He grinned at her sudden obvious discomfort.
“O-of course not,” she stammered. “Ladies do not stomp.”
