Lottie’s hand trembled as she gripped the doorknob. She shouldn’t have pushed Alec to talk about his father. He would never touch her in anger—that was the only thing she could say for certain—but the force of his outburst had still been a surprise. Alec wasn’t made of stone, after all, and she hadn’t seen him lose his temper like that in years. Not since he was much younger. But for a very brief moment, she caught a glimpse of the passionate creature he had once been, of the boy who had simply blazed with life.
Even he couldn’t have put on that kind of devastation. Blistering anguish like that came only from within. Built upon a foundation forged from extreme loss. Lottie had the same scaffolds inside, but her walls were erected to protect what few memories she had of her beloved parents.
Alec’s, though…Alec’s held back pain. And rage.
I’m not upset. It was ages ago. I barely remember either of them.
They were lies. Every one.
He had spoken of his mother a little when they first met, but never his father. Lottie had always assumed he hated the man. That he had been a brute. And so she hated him, too. It wasn’t until she worked with Uncle Alfred on the collected poems that she learned anything about the mysterious Edward Gresham and came to understand that Alec’s silence wasn’t born out of hate at all, but agony.
I don’t believe I ever knew a more dedicated father, Uncle Alfred had explained. There was always a darkness to Edward, even when we were schoolboys, but Alec brought him such joy. He had been well for so long that no one expected him to fall as far as he did after the loss of his wife. I was in Venice at the time, but Edward refused to see anyone. Even Alec couldn’t pull him out of it. No matter how hard he tried. I never saw anything so heartbreaking as the image of that boy pounding helplessly on the door of his father’s study. Sometimes he spent all day at it. But Edward never let him in. Not once.
This revelation had stunned Lottie. What must it have been like to fight so desperately for his father’s life, she had wondered, and still lose?
Alec had been gone for three years at that point, and so her newfound sympathy eventually faded away; but now, in the face of his obvious grief, her heart broke all over again for him. He certainly wouldn’t want her pity, though. And it seemed that he didn’t want her help, either. She pulled open the door to reveal two maids holding a sizable tin tub, while two more carried a large cistern of steaming water between them. All four were dark-haired beauties, likely sisters, who looked incredibly perturbed to be there. Until they caught sight of Alec.
“Buona sera.” Lottie waved them in and stepped aside.
The maids marched into the room and began setting up the bath with swift, competent movements. Two poured the water into the bath, while another added a generous helping of sweet-smelling oil and flower petals from a small basket. The fourth retrieved a screen from a corner of the room and neatly arranged it by a chair laden with fresh towels. All the while, each one took every opportunity to throw brazen looks at Alec. If they had actually been married, Lottie would have been rather piqued—not that she could blame them.
Alec leaned against the balcony’s doorway with his hands in his pockets and his eyes cast down, oblivious to their attentions; his mouth was set in a hard line and his brow was furrowed in deep concentration. The setting sun bathed him in that perfect pinkish glow artists only dream of. He resembled a powerful Roman general mulling over strategy on the eve of battle.
Lottie’s heart beat even faster than before, when she stood frozen in the doorway taking far too much pleasure in his declaration.
You are very beautiful.
She had thought herself long immune to the shallow flatteries of men, so it was unsettling how badly she had wanted to believe him. But to what end? Finding her attractive certainly hadn’t stopped him from leaving five years ago. No, there was little to be gained by catching the eye of a man. Better to be treated with respect, considered an equal. Though that seemed even more elusive. Lottie began riffling through her carpet bag, if only to have something to do besides stare at him.
After the maids finished preparing the bath, Alec gave each of them a coin. They all finally deigned to speak and made a great show of profusely thanking him. The prettiest one even went so far as to place a palm on his chest, cooing, “Sei un uomo così gentile, generoso.” Alec’s only response was to pluck her hand off his person. She gave a haughty sniff at his rejection and swept grandly out of the room while the other three followed. Not one spared Lottie even a glance.
She rolled her lips between her teeth, trying to contain her laughter, but it was no use. Alec shot her an irritated look but he, too, was fighting back a smile.
“You might want to apologize to the young lady. I see a great future for you here, working alongside Signore Garda.”
Alec raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that so?” He rubbed his jaw in mock consideration. “I suppose there are some similarities between espionage and innkeeping.”
“You must admit, it would be an excellent cover.”
“That is true. You’d be surprised by how useful innkeepers are.”
Her smile faded at the unintended implication of his words. “Yes. I can imagine.” Alec must have questioned the innkeeper in Florence, a sharp-eyed British emigre. Lottie had taken pains to avoid the older man when she slipped away from the pension, but perhaps she had not been so careful.
He seemed to guess at her thoughts. “You take your time here,” he said, gesturing to the bath. “I’ll go see about our dinner. Make sure that door stays locked.”
Then he was gone before Lottie could manage another word.
By the time Alec returned, Lottie had washed, dried, and changed. After a bit of dithering she had donned a pale blue tea gown, as her sensible skirt and blouse were dusty from the road. If she had still been in her cottage, she wouldn’t have given it a thought, but the lacy gown was designed for more intimate company and meant to be worn without a corset. Lottie then chided herself for even worrying about such a thing. It seemed unlikely that Alec would be scandalized, if he even noticed.
Lottie sat in a chair by the window plaiting her damp hair and watching the sky turn ever deeper shades of pink when she heard the key in the lock. The door swung open, and Alec bent down to retrieve the tray he had brought up with him. As he entered, a heavenly smell filled the room, and Lottie’s stomach quietly rumbled. It had been hours since their respite by the river, though it felt far longer.
“I’ve brought provisions,” Alec announced as he moved to set the tray down on the table bearing two plates of food, a small pitcher of water, and two glasses. “Roasted chicken. Signore Garda assured me they still use their nonna’s recipe. I—” He glanced up as she stood and paused.
His eyes moved steadily down her form with such deliberateness that it nearly felt like a caress. Lottie stood a little straighter and tried to ignore the growing appreciation in them. It did not matter. And she did not care. When she took a step forward, Alec’s eyes leapt back to her face before he immediately looked away.
“I—here,” he mumbled as he set the tray down on the table. “Here it is.”
Lottie took a seat. “It smells delicious,” she said briskly, hoping to cut the tension that suddenly filled the air. “Won’t you sit down?”
Alec shook his head emphatically, as if she had offered him poison. He took a large step back from both the table and her. “I’ll wash up. Before the water goes cold.” Lottie gave an artfully careless shrug and picked up a fork. But Alec remained in place watching her. She cast him an inquisitive glance and he snapped to attention and moved toward the tub behind her.
As she cut into the tender chicken, the screen scraped along the floor. She smiled to herself. Who knew Alec was so modest? But then came the telltale rustling of clothing being removed. Lottie’s throat suddenly went bone dry, and she poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher. Just as she brought it to her lips, there was a light splash as Alec stepped into the tub. She immediately pictured one long, well-muscled leg joining the other as he slowly eased himself into the tepid water. Alec let out a faint sigh and the water sloshed around the tub, making room for his tall frame. Lottie took a generous sip from her cup and attempted to focus on her food. It was excellent. If Signore Garda’s nonna were here, Lottie would compliment her profusely. Then again, the woman would likely be far too preoccupied by the large, naked man in the tub behind her…
Lottie gave herself a shake and cut off another piece of chicken, but as she began to chew, Alec started humming the “Major-General’s Song” from The Pirates of Penzance.
Lottie began to mutter the lyrics while she ate, all in a losing battle to distract herself.
I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I’ve information vegetable, animal, and mineral…
The light splashing was now accompanied by the steady sound of scrubbing as Alec soaped his body. An image of tanned, soap-lathered skin flashed through her mind. Lottie shook her head and continued to focus on the lyrics.
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical—
Lottie had nearly gotten through the entire song while Alec hummed and scrubbed and rinsed until she thought she might go mad. Finally, blessed silence returned and Lottie let out a little sigh of relief. But it was only for a moment.
Then the sloshing grew to a furious crescendo as Alec rose. Before she even knew what she was doing, Lottie turned around. Like the screen in her room the night before, Alec’s shadow was clearly visible; Lottie was spared the most intimate details, but there was still plenty to see. Alec’s usually wavy hair now hung in wet ringlets around his head, and the curved lines of his arms were exposed as he reached back to scratch his neck. Water cascaded down his body as he bent over to grab a towel off the chair and wrapped it around his trim waist. As Alec stepped out from behind the screen, the sight of his bare chest was so riveting that Lottie failed to turn around in time. Alec glanced over and immediately froze. He caught her full on gawking. With her mouth hanging open.
Alec had always appreciated the female gaze. Watching a woman admire his appearance was, in his opinion, an underrated pleasure. Vastly more erotic than having someone submit to his own desires. But when he stepped out from behind the screen and found Lottie staring at him with such obvious lust, it felt like a torture designed by a particularly vengeful god: being wanted by the one woman he could never have.
Alec had gone days without sleeping or eating. Had marched for miles through oppressive, unbearable heat with only the hope of water. Had played (and won) an eight-hour game of poker against two men with separate orders to kill him afterward.
But he was not strong enough for this.
Her pale blue confection, with its well-placed bows and lacy undergown, was a far cry from the sensible skirts and blouses she had worn the previous two days. It was just the right combination of sweet and sensual; the overrobe gave the appearance of demure innocence while the open front still called attention to those delicate curves that lay beneath only a few flimsy layers. For once, Alec had been grateful for a tepid bath.
Now his scalp tingled with the kind of predatory awareness big cats must feel when they spot a tasty gazelle. A fleeting look, a suggestive remark, or an accidental touch was one thing, but Alec had not prepared to be outright ogled by her.
Lottie’s cheeks turned an impressive shade of crimson while they stared at each other, and after the longest moment of his life, she finally turned away. “Oh, goodness. I’m sorry!” She buried her face in her hands.
Alec took a step toward her before remembering he wore absolutely nothing besides a towel. “Hold on.” He let out an irritated huff and quickly retrieved a clean shirt from his bag. Alec moved back behind the screen, though it was doubtful even Lottie would be bold enough to turn around for another eyeful now, and dressed with a speed usually reserved for life or death situations. He had absolutely no idea what to say.
Your conduct must be as gentlemanly as possible. At all times.
He had assured Lottie it would not be a problem, but apparently it was not his own conduct he needed to worry about. His skin was still damp from the bath, but the very thought of those plump lips parting for him once again, of her velvety tongue boldly tangling with his own, made him hot everywhere. Alec pressed a hard hand against the front of his trousers. At the moment the only thing stopping him from throwing her over his shoulder and taking her to bed was that second condition. But one word of encouragement from her and he would tear that bloody dress off with his teeth.
Even if she is attracted to you, it won’t last.
He might as well have leapt back into the tub. Lottie might have been openly admiring his figure, but that didn’t change anything between them. Though he could concede that she might have had feelings for him that went beyond friendship before he left, she had made it abundantly clear over the previous day that she didn’t trust him and hadn’t denied that a man was involved in her flight from Florence. She might have even purchased that very dress with him in mind. Even as Alec acknowledged the fellow had excellent taste, his stomach twisted with a strange mixture of jealousy and sympathy. He was quite familiar with using pleasure as a distraction from heartache.
And how poorly it worked.
He didn’t want that for Lottie. No doubt her interest was merely due to the novelty of their situation, and it would fade with a little more time. So time was what he would give her. Alec took a deep breath and gave himself a shake before he emerged from behind the screen, now fully dressed. Lottie hadn’t moved an inch. Her face was still buried in her hands. Alec took the seat opposite her. Better not to talk about it. To act like it was nothing. Because it was nothing. And, in the meantime, dinner still needed to be eaten.
After a few moments, she looked up. “Wh-what are you doing?” Her complexion had begun to return to its normal color, as bewilderment replaced embarrassment.
Alec shrugged and took another bite, praying this strategy would work. “I’m starving. Are you going to eat that?” He pointed to her remaining piece of chicken with his knife.
Lottie stared at her plate and then back to him. “Oh. No, you can have it.”
Alec reached over and speared it with his fork. As she continued to watch him eat, the tension slowly eased from her shoulders. He finished and sat back in his chair, taking care to meet her eyes with an open, friendly expression. Perhaps that was all it would take. It had to.
But then Lottie began to frown. “Al—”
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. Dear God, he couldn’t listen to his name on her lips yet again. “You don’t need to explain. Everyone is curious now and again.”
Her frown deepened. “Curious?”
Alec tried to ignore the incredulous note in her voice with an encouraging nod even while he wondered what, exactly, she had done with this mysterious suitor of hers. He could practically see the questions hovering on her lips, and the longing in her eyes that betrayed a deep ache that could only be soothed by intense, physical pleasure. At some point during her silence, Alec’s hands had found their way to the edge of the chair and he dug in hard, waiting for her answer. If she pushed him right now, even a little, he wasn’t sure he had the will to deny her. And then there would be hell to pay for them both.
Then, finally, thankfully, Lottie blinked and nodded. “Yes. Right.” She rose to clear their dishes.
Alec released a long breath and relaxed his grip, but it would be another few seconds before he could stand. After Lottie had stacked their plates on the tray, she glanced toward him. “I think I’ll retire now. It’s been a long day.”
“Very good.” He remained seated and ran through the plans for tomorrow in his head, but all the while he listened to the sounds of her washing up and changing. It was soothing to hear someone go about their evening routine, and his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.
After a few minutes, she appeared from behind the screen, now wearing her nightgown and an ice-blue silk wrapper. It was a good deal plainer than her tea gown, but the lack of accoutrements meant there was little to distract the eye from her figure. He resumed his iron grip on the chair, but Lottie paid him no mind while she rummaged through her carpet bag and pulled out a book.
“What have you got there?” he asked in a strangled voice.
Lottie showed him the cover. “Hints to Lady Travellers: At Home and Abroad.”
He let out a snort. “I suppose they’ll print anything these days.”
“This book hasn’t gone out of print in nearly ten years. Women do travel, you know. And often alone.” Then Lottie raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea you had become so conservative.”
“I’m nothing of the sort,” Alec protested. “I didn’t realize there was a demand for such information.”
“Well, it may interest you to know that I’m hardly an outlier. Haven’t you heard of Gertrude Bell, or Isabella Bird?”
Alec shot her a sour look. “Yes.” Isabella Bird’s extensive world travels had made her a household name, not to mention the first woman allowed to join the Royal Geographical Society. Why, Sir Alfred knew the woman personally. And Alec had quite enjoyed Bell’s Persian Pictures. “I’ve no objection to adventuresses.”
“Just as long as I’m not one of them?”
Alec narrowed his eyes. Those women were different. They had built their whole lives around discovery—and it hadn’t come without a personal price. “I certainly hope you aren’t intending to travel farther east. It’s dangerous.”
Lottie pointedly ignored his gaze as she moved to the bed. “Whatever I do after this is not any of your concern.”
Alec opened his mouth and then quickly shut it. He longed to challenge her, but with what? She was absolutely right. He pulled a hand through his hair, strode over to his own battered bag, and spent the next several minutes taking his frustrations out on his toiletries. After a few satisfying bangs, he cut a sidelong glance at Lottie. She had removed her wrapper and was tucked under the covers reading by the light of the little bedside oil lamp.
He imagined her cuddled up on a narrow camp bed in a canvas tent while a sandstorm raged outside, perfectly content. Was that really the kind of life she wanted?
“You aren’t going to sleep on the floor again, are you?” Lottie didn’t bother looking up as she flicked a page.
“What?” He was distracted by a trail of freckles that ran down the side of her neck before disappearing beneath the nightgown’s neckline, like the world’s most erotic treasure map.
She met his eyes and shrugged as if she had suggested something utterly harmless, like opening a window. “The bed is massive, and you do look tired.”
Alec shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
Lottie gave him a pitying smile. “You’re being rather silly about this. We won’t be anywhere near each other.”
Alec cleared his throat by way of answer. It was a fair point. The bed could easily sleep four, but it wasn’t the size that worried him.
“Besides,” she added slyly, “it’s not as if we’ve never slept next to each other before.”
Of all the times to call upon their shared past…
“That was different!” he sputtered.
Lottie canted her head and studied him, as if he was a coded message to crack. “How so?”
Alec gritted his teeth so the words wouldn’t slip out: You didn’t have breasts yet.
The summer he was twelve and she was eight, they had spent the night in a little playhouse in the woods that Lottie called her “fairy cottage.” They ate tinned food and slept side by side in two camp beds pretending they were American pioneers. It was entirely innocent, but when the gamekeeper discovered them the following morning, Alec was sent to Sir Alfred’s study, where he was promptly caned without any preamble. Alec made no protest and shed no tears, but he did not forget his guardian’s parting words: I’m a patient man, Alec. But you need to learn your place. And it is not with her. He was then sent back to school even though term wouldn’t start for another month.
When he returned for Christmas, Lottie nearly made herself sick from crying so hard. She didn’t stop until Alec hid them behind a curtain in the library and pulled her onto his lap.
After a time, she calmed down enough to speak: “Promise me you won’t go away ever again,” she sniffled into his shirt. “Promise you won’t leave me.”
“Not if I can help it,” he vowed, full of the kind of righteous anger only the very young can muster.
But there was nothing he could do then. Neither of them was in control of their lives. And Alec could not afford to anger his guardian any further. He knew very well there was nowhere else for him to go. After that, Alec always made sure to keep a proper distance between himself and Lottie, especially in Sir Alfred’s presence. When she grew a little older, she understood and reciprocated. They were still friends, of course, but an invisible wall grew between them. It wasn’t until the night of her ball that he dared to hold her so close once again.
Lottie still stared at him, awaiting his answer. “We were children,” he growled.
And that was all he intended to say on the subject.
Before she could make one of her snippy replies, Alec turned away and pretended to look for his coat. “There are a few more things I need to do this evening. Get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“And I want to check on Lorenzo. Make sure he’s settled.”
There. She wouldn’t argue with that.
The rest of his plan involved staying the hell out of this room until she was fast asleep. Alec pulled on his coat and headed for the door. Her expression had softened into something resembling acceptance. “All right.” But just before she turned back to her book, disappointment flickered in her eyes. Alec’s fingers slipped against the doorknob before he resumed his iron grip. So be it. Let her be disappointed by him. She should be used to it by now.
“Don’t wait up for me,” he said as he flung open the door and stamped out of the room.