Chapter Twenty-Three

Though Lottie’s childhood predilection of climbing out of windows had finally proved useful, she still hadn’t mastered her fear of heights. Sheer panic had fueled her shaky descent down a conveniently placed lattice while she focused on the brick wall in front of her.

By some miracle she landed safely with only a few scratches and had taken enough money for a ticket to Surrey. It was poor form to leave Valentina behind, but Lottie knew she would only dissuade her. She would find a way to make it up to Valentina later, when the threat of marriage to Mr. Wetherby wasn’t quite so imminent. After she arrived at the tiny village train station, Lottie took a shortcut through the forest. It was late afternoon by the time she reached Haverford, bedraggled, famished, and cold; but the sight of the sprawling Tudor mansion, home to six generations of her mother’s family, warmed her with relief. Mr. Wetherby could not touch her here.

Lottie must have looked worse than she felt because Ailish, a housemaid, gasped at the sight of her while Ben, a footman, begged her to sit and immediately fetched Mrs. Houston. She had been working for the Lewis family for nearly three decades now, beginning as a scullery maid. There was no one Lottie trusted more on this earth than her.

“My goodness, Miss Carlisle!” she cried out, her large brown eyes as wide as a startled doe’s. “Don’t tell me you came all this way on foot?”

Lottie ran a sheepish hand over her hatless head and pulled away a twig. “Only from the train station.”

Mrs. Houston tsked as she cast a worried gaze over her. “Come with me. Ailish, make us some tea, then.”

Lottie followed Mrs. Houston to her sitting room where they could talk privately. She had always loved this cozy little space and whiled away many rainy afternoons by the hearth listening to Mrs. Houston’s stories of her youth spent in Ireland’s West Country. For a time Alec had joined them, until he grew too old for such things. Lottie’s throat tightened at the rush of memories.

The events of the day suddenly pressed down upon her and Lottie slumped into an overstuffed armchair clothed in faded green velvet. Mrs. Houston took the one opposite, her brow puckered with worry. She still retained much of the striking beauty of her youth, though her dark brown hair was now heavily streaked with gray. There had never been a Mr. Houston, and not for the first time Lottie wondered what had kept her here all these years, when she could have had a husband, a family, and a home of her own.

Ailish promptly arrived with the tea tray. Once they were alone again, Mrs. Houston began to pour. “Now,” she said as she handed Lottie a steaming cup and saucer, “am I right in supposing Alec found you?”

Lottie nearly dropped the china.

“No one else knows about Florence,” Mrs. Houston added.

Lottie’s eyes fell. “I know it was childish to leave the way I did, but I couldn’t spend another minute with Mrs. Wetherby. And Uncle Alfred was putting so much pressure on me to marry.”

Mrs. Houston gave her an understanding nod. “Where did you end up?”

Lottie let out a breath. “I went to the village my parents visited on their honeymoon.”

“Oh, my dear. No wonder Alec found you.” The sadness behind her words turned Lottie’s heart inside out. “But, he did not return to England?”

Lottie fiddled with the edge of her saucer as her throat tightened. “He thought it for the best,” she said hoarsely. “We…we quarreled before I left.” She had to look away from Mrs. Houston’s sympathetic gaze. “But that’s not why I’m here. It’s Uncle Alfred. He isn’t well.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“I know,” Mrs. Houston said. “But he’s being taken care of. I hired Mrs. Ragmoore myself.”

“But why did he send you away?”

A faint tremor of emotion passed over the housekeeper’s face until she mastered it. Mrs. Houston swallowed hard. “I must respect his decision.”

“His or Mr. Wetherby’s?”

“You weren’t here, Lottie,” she frowned. “It was only natural for Mr. Wetherby to handle the arrangements. The doctors thought it best if your uncle had as much peace as possible until he regained his strength.”

Lottie shook her head as her mind whirled. There was so much Mrs. Houston didn’t know. “This morning Uncle Alfred told me I was to marry Mr. Wetherby. This afternoon.”

Mrs. Houston’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?”

Lottie explained her uncle’s reasoning, along with Mr. Wetherby’s role in the charade. “I think Uncle Alfred has been in decline for much longer than anyone realized,” Lottie added, voicing the theory she had been piecing together since the previous night. It was the only thing that could explain his increasingly erratic behavior over the past year. “Mr. Wetherby likely knew from the start because they work so closely together. That meant he could manipulate the situation for his own gain.”

Which explained why Mr. Wetherby’s aunt, of all people, had been deemed a proper companion for her. And why they needed to be married while her uncle still had some control over her finances.

Mrs. Houston brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Lottie,” she gasped. “I—I think you’re right. I saw he was growing more short-tempered, more forgetful, but I thought it was just due to his age. And Mr. Wetherby always seemed so competent. I thought he was good for Sir Alfred.”

Lottie furrowed her brow. “The only part that doesn’t fit is sending Alec for me. That could have ruined Mr. Wetherby’s plans.”

“That was my idea,” Mrs. Houston said sheepishly. “Your uncle was so worried. Mr. Wetherby offered to go, but he had never been to Italy and—and Alec was already there. It seemed like the best choice. He went searching for you immediately. Your uncle fell ill only a few days later.”

Lottie recalled the torturous look that had briefly passed over Alec’s face as he related all this to her only days before:

When I received Sir Alfred’s telegram, I nearly—

Nearly what?

Now she would never know.

“What caused you two to quarrel?” The cautious hope in Mrs. Houston’s eyes was even more wrenching.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lottie groused. “No one seems to care about what I want, or consider what I might think is best for my life.”

Mrs. Houston listened patiently to her little outburst. “Your uncle has always believed he knows what’s best for everybody,” she gently explained. “But that also comes with a sense of responsibility when things go wrong.”

Lottie sniffed at the idea. “He isn’t God.”

The hint of a smile touched Mrs. Houston’s lips. “No, he most certainly is not. I think he has finally started to realize that.” Then she hesitated. “Did you know your dear mother lingered for nearly a day after the accident?”

“I…I try not to think of that day very often.”

Or ever.

Mrs. Houston gave a thoughtful nod. “As well you should. Your father died right away, bless him. But your mother was brought to your uncle’s town house, as it was nearby. I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. They had always been so close. And after your grandparents died, he was more of a father to her than a brother. Sir Alfred did not leave her side for more than a minute. He called in every last favor he ever had and brought in every doctor available.” Her eyes lowered. “But you know how it ended.”

To her utter embarrassment, Lottie found herself brushing a tear away. How silly to cry now over something so long ago. Something so utterly beyond her control.

“I believe he has always seen you as his one chance at redemption because he couldn’t save her. He wants your life to be perfect in a way your mother’s wasn’t. That’s why he didn’t mind you being so choosy these last few years.”

“I wasn’t being choosy. They weren’t—they weren’t Alec,” she said hoarsely. Voicing the admission nearly broke her heart all over again.

“I know my dear. I tried to tell him, many times, but he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—hear of it.”

Lottie was astonished. “You talked about us?”

“On occasion. If he wished it. But we often disagreed, especially regarding Alec. He thought you two were too much together.” The housekeeper hesitated, watching her carefully. “That it would give the both of you ideas.”

“So he thought it better to separate us through lies?” Lottie fumed. “I know the truth about Alec, Mrs. Houston. About his parents.”

If the housekeeper was surprised, she did not show it. “As I said, I did not agree with all of his decisions. But I know with all my heart he was only doing what he thought was best.” Mrs. Houston’s face warmed with affection as she defended her longtime employer.

It was as if Lottie had finally discovered the last piece of a long, unfinished puzzle. “You love him,” she marveled.

“Yes,” Mrs. Houston admitted, blushing like a schoolgirl. “For many years now.”

“Does he know?”

Mrs. Houston laughed. “I should hope so, considering he’s the one who said it first.”

“I’m sorry. I…I had no idea.” It seemed impossible to think of Sir Alfred saying such things to anyone, really.

“Well, of course not. That was the point.”

“But you did not wish to marry?”

Mrs. Houston fixed her with a look. “Lottie, I’ve listened to you bang on about women’s suffrage for the last year. Are you really going to turn your nose up on me now?”

“No!” Lottie was mortified to realize that Mrs. Houston was right.

“We’ve an arrangement that suits the both of us. Your uncle has his work, and I have mine,” she said with characteristic firmness. “Besides, if we married it would only cause talk.”

Lottie balked. “What does that matter if you love each other?”

Mrs. Houston gave her a kind smile. “Oh Lottie. You’ve no idea what it would be like for me. People would say I tricked him into marriage. That I was putting on airs. He would lose the respect of his peers and I of the staff. I would never be accepted as the mistress of a house I once worked in. And I don’t want that. For either of us.”

“But isn’t it hard being here while he’s in London?”

Mrs. Houston’s smile slipped a little. “More than I could ever say. He doesn’t want me to see him as anything less than the man he was.”

Lottie grasped her hand. “I understand, but in this case I think you shouldn’t heed his wishes.”

“Thank God you came here. We’ll need to contact your uncle’s solicitor immediately.”

Lottie nodded in agreement. Mr. Jenkins was her solicitor as well.

Mrs. Houston then leveled her eyes. “I’m also going to contact Alec.”

“Why?” Lottie tore her hand away. “This isn’t any of his concern.”

“But if your uncle has been in decline for this long, and if Mr. Wetherby did know and said nothing, then his work may have been compromised,” she pointed out.

Lottie’s breath caught. She hadn’t thought of that.

“And besides, even if you did quarrel, Alec would want to know if you were in danger. No matter what happened in Venice, he still cares for you.”

Lottie stared at the unlit hearth. “Perhaps he did once, but he feels nothing more than a sense of obligation toward me now.”

Mrs. Houston clucked her tongue. “I don’t believe that for a minute—”

“He said those very words, Mrs. Houston. After I told him I loved him.” Fresh anger and hurt flooded her veins with such force she vaulted from the chair. “That I had always loved him. That I didn’t care about his parents or his past. But he wouldn’t hear any of it!”

Mrs. Houston motioned for her to sit back down. “It’s true I don’t know the circumstances, but I think you need to understand how his past has shaped him. You may truly not care about the differences in your station, but I imagine Alec would find that difficult to accept.”

“What differences?” Lottie spat. “We are both the children of gentlemen.”

Mrs. Houston gave her an exasperated look. “Tell me you aren’t that naive. He is illegitimate. His own family does not recognize him. That has always haunted him.”

Lottie crossed her arms. “He hardly seemed ‘haunted’ while he was explaining that our friendship was based on nothing more than convenience,” she muttered. She had gone over their exchange so many times that his look of mild irritation was burned into her brain. It was free of turmoil. Of devastation. She might as well have been a persistent fly, or an overzealous saleswoman.

“Is that what he told you? And I suppose the whippings he received were for fun as well?” She let out a laugh of disbelief. “No, Lottie. Nothing about your friendship was ever convenient. But he has always sought to protect you, above all else. Since you were both children. Your bond was extraordinary even then. We all saw it.”

Lottie angrily shook her head. “It was nothing of the kind. Alec made that very clear.”

“He’s used to thinking of himself as a burden, especially to you.” Then Mrs. Houston dipped her chin. “And believe me, I can understand why.”

A fresh wave of misery broke over Lottie. She could not accept that Alec had turned her away out of selflessness. That so many of his choices had been made to preserve her standing in a world she had never cared for. Or that their parting had been one last attempt to save her reputation. Couldn’t he see that in doing so he robbed them both of love? No. Even Alec would not be bullheaded enough to do such a thing.

“Inform him of Mr. Wetherby’s actions, if you must,” Lottie said as she turned toward the exit. “But please, I beg you, tell him nothing of me.”

Mrs. Houston called after her as she hurried out of the sitting room. But Lottie could take no more revelations today. She bolted up the stairs, barely registering the grand portraits of so many dour-faced ancestors as she raced toward her room. Until she turned a corner and her mother’s familiar green-eyed gaze brought her to a halt. The formal portrait had been commissioned shortly after her mother’s eighteenth birthday, in accordance with Lewis family custom.

Lottie stepped closer and closer until she could reach out and brush the heavy gilded frame with her finger. Ada Lewis would meet John Carlisle less than a year after this was painted. It seemed unthinkable that Lottie was nearly the age her mother was when she died. She had possessed a tranquil wisdom that made her seem ageless. But Ada had been a young wife and mother, with a life very different from her daughter’s.

And what would she say now?

Lottie abruptly turned away from the portrait. Her room no longer seemed like a welcome refuge. It was full of reminders of the parents she had lost, of the life she had never gotten to have. But one place remained where she could truly be alone.

  

The fairy cottage was only a short distance from the main house, but it was tucked away in a hidden glen few knew about. Dusk was approaching as Lottie picked her way along the path overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. The cottage itself was covered in thick tangles of ivy, all but forgotten over the years.

Lottie’s grandfather had erected the tiny cottage as a playhouse for his youngest daughter and was partially inspired by Marie Antoinette’s model village in Versailles. Ada had christened it the “fairy cottage” when she was a child, and the name stuck. It was not a grand building by any means. Nothing more than two small rooms. But it had been sturdily built from area stone, and the thatched roof still appeared intact. Lottie found the cottage key in its usual spot under a large stone planter by the entrance and brushed away the accumulated dirt.

She couldn’t remember the last time she visited. Had it really stood empty all these years? The door would not budge until Lottie applied her shoulder with some vigor, and when it abruptly swung open she nearly toppled onto the floor. She shook out her skirts and took in the space. It smelled of damp and moss, but otherwise was just as she remembered. The larger of the two rooms contained a little wooden table, two chairs, and a lantern, while the other housed a camp stove and narrow cot.

The cottage’s lone diamond-paned picture window was partially covered in ivy, letting in only a bit of fast-fading daylight. Lottie found a remarkably dry pack of matches in the table’s drawer and set to lighting the lantern. Once the room was cast in a comforting glow, she curled up on the window seat, tucked her skirts around her legs, and rested her head against the glass.

Her heavy sigh filled the room. Mr. Wetherby had been thwarted, and she had every faith that Mrs. Houston would inform the suitable parties, but instead of planning her future and reveling in the independence she had sought for so long, here she was hiding away again in another cottage. But the loneliness that had once been so constant she’d barely noticed now chafed against her skin, rubbing her bruised heart raw. And there would never be any relief. She wanted something that was beyond money, beyond machinations and subterfuge. She wanted to be needed by a finite heart, even if it meant enduring pain when it ceased to beat. She wanted to give love and be loved in return, even if it meant giving up possibilities. She no longer wanted to live for herself alone, guided only by her own desires, but to be deeply known, like she had once been.

And she could not have it.

Eventually Lottie dozed off, but her dreams provided no respite. Alec was here in the cottage, wrapping her in his strong arms, murmuring her name against her ear. Lottie’s heart ached so badly for it to be real that she was wrenched awake. But, strangely, the dream did not end.

She blinked up sleepily into Alec’s face. “You…you can’t be here,” she whispered in confusion. He was a thousand miles away.

Alec’s eyes filled with hurt and he gave a brief nod. “I’m sorry. I needed to know you were safe. I’ll go.” He began to pull away but Lottie’s fingers dug into his arm, her body already recognizing what her mind could not.

“This is real?” She feared uttering the very words would make him vanish.

A relieved smile broke across his face. “I’m afraid so,” he said. When she pressed her face against his shoulder, she could have sworn he whispered Thank God.

“How,” she gasped. “How did you get here so quickly? Mrs. Houston only just contacted you.”

“I’m not here because of her.” Alec clasped the nape of her neck and she wanted to cry from the tenderness of his touch. “I left Venice the day after you did. I came here for you.” He crushed her even closer. “But when I got to London, I discovered what Mr. Wetherby had planned. Rafe and I came just as the vicar was arriving. I nearly lost my mind when I realized you went through the window.” Alec gently tipped up her chin. “I thought you were afraid of heights.”

“I am,” she said. “But I really didn’t want to marry that man.”

Alec smiled. “I can understand that.”

“But…you knew to come here?”

“I had a hunch.” He shrugged, as if his ability to find her across continents was perfectly normal.

She pressed against him once again as hot joy fanned out from her heart through every limb. “Mr. Wetherby must have been very angry,” she said after a moment.

Alec drew her away from him, his expression grave. “He’s been arrested. Those codes you were deciphering didn’t come from your uncle. Wetherby was selling sensitive information. Rafe wants to charge him with kidnapping in addition to conspiring with foreign agents. He will likely hang.”

A shudder rented through her as she recalled the man’s words: Being poor is a tedious business. I intend to avoid it at all costs

And now he would pay with his life.

“My God. Did my uncle know?”

“It doesn’t appear so. He has had a rather large number of lapses in judgment lately. Most likely he has been in decline for much longer than anyone realized.”

“Yes, I thought the same.” Lottie glanced down and ran a finger along the lapels of his jacket. “You saw him, then?”

“We talked for a long while.”

Lottie hesitated, but Alec needed to know the truth. “Did he tell you about your mother, and the work she did for him?”

“He did.”

Lottie pulled back and stared into his eyes. The coldness that had always accompanied any mention of his parents was entirely gone. Now he looked broken. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I learned everything from him yesterday. That must have been so upsetting for you.”

Alec dipped his chin, as if her words embarrassed him. “It was something of a comfort to know the truth behind why she left, but I’ve realized I let her absence dictate far too much for too long.”

“Alec, you didn’t—”

He held up a finger to her lips. “Please, just listen before you say anything. I know I don’t deserve such an indulgence, but I’ve had a long time to think on everything these last few days.

“It would be so easy to blame all my troubles on Sir Alfred, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling angry or bitter over the mistakes of others.” He paused as his eyes lingered on her face. “Or continue letting those mistakes dictate my life. Like I did five years ago.”

Lottie had to take a long breath before she could speak, and even then her voice still trembled. “What do you mean?”

Alec tilted her chin once more, and the tenderness in his gaze was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. “What you said in Venice. You were right about everything. About me. I spent all these years trying to make myself forget you. Trying to force everything I ever felt for you into nothingness.” Lottie tried to glance away, but Alec stopped her. “But it didn’t work. Lottie, it never worked.” He began to gently stroke her cheek and she remembered to breathe. “The morning after your ball, I came to Sir Alfred and asked to court you properly. I said that though I had always loved you, at some point I had fallen in love with you. Irrevocably.” His words were strangely humbling. How long she had ached to hear them. Lottie reached up and covered his hand with her own. Alec cleared his throat and looked away. “But then I walked away at the first sign of trouble.”

Lottie couldn’t stand the guilt that now seemed to consume him. “You were deceived.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “Sir Alfred said I could have told him to go to hell that day, and he was right. I could have told you the truth about my parents as soon as I found out, but I ran instead. I chose to put my life in danger rather than reveal any weakness to you. I told myself I was doing what was best for you. That it was a sacrifice. But I didn’t trust you to accept me. Because I was a coward. And I didn’t deserve you for that reason alone. Never mind the hundred other ones.” He raked a desperate hand through his hair, further rumpling the already disheveled waves. It looked as if he had barely slept in days. Just like her.

“I’ve spent all these years thinking—knowing—I wasn’t good enough for you. I always blamed it on things beyond my control—my circumstances, your uncle, my parents. But it was my fault all along.” He let out a weary sigh. “I let other people’s opinions determine our future when I should have fought for you. For us. Instead, I diminished your feelings and ignored my own. And I will always consider that the greatest mistake of my life.”

“Oh, Alec,” Lottie whispered thickly. She could not let him shoulder this burden alone. “I should have made more of an effort to understand your silence about your past instead of taking it so personally. I don’t blame you for keeping the truth about your parents to yourself. You were in an impossible position.”

“It’s no excuse,” he burst out, turning away in anger. “I destroyed everything between us that morning in your uncle’s study. Then again in Venice. And I wish to God I could take it all back. To start over with you, but I can’t––”

“You’re being much too hard on yourself.”

He stubbornly shook his head, still refusing to look at her. “But you would never have done that.”

Impossible man.

“Only because I never had the chance to!” Lottie let out a frustrated cry as she reached for him. “I’d like to believe that I would have accepted you without worry five years ago. That I wouldn’t have cared about your parents or my reputation. That I would have taken Uncle Alfred’s disappointment in stride and run off with you. But I was a different girl then. And more concerned with what people thought of me than I’d like to admit.”

She gripped his shoulders and forced him to meet her eyes. He was no longer the boyish young gentleman who had wooed her one evening. The careworn man that stared back had a few more wrinkles and had likely seen things she could never imagine. But he was also the man who had bounded up a mountain to find her, who made sure she saw Venice, who brought tears to her eyes both in pleasure and pain––and been prepared to die for her.

In so many ways, they were still the same people who had slept side by side in this very room years and years ago. But they had grown so much since then. Perhaps more than they ever would have if they hadn’t been forced to part.

She brought a hand to his jaw and stroked the rough bristle. “I think we both needed time to become who we are today. And I’m grateful for it. I only wish that you hadn’t had to endure so much pain.”

Alec stared for a long while, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Very well. If you insist on being less than perfect, I’ll try to accept it.”

“Perfection is not what I aim for, Alec,” she said gently. “And it is not what I expect from you, either.”

“No, but there is something you should expect from me: an apology. For everything I said in Venice. I was so cruel to you, but believe me, I never meant a word of it. I was angry and ashamed, but more than anything, I was scared. But it’s still no excuse. I should have treated you better.”

Lottie bowed her head at his admission. “I forgive you.”

Alec gave her a pained look. “Give me the chance to earn such a gift, will you?” he said hoarsely. “I came here with no expectations. I only wanted to apologize. To make sure you were safe. And to say that being able to call you a friend has been the greatest honor of my life, Lottie Carlisle.”

Lottie’s gaze grew watery as her heart burned for him. She didn’t want some other Alec who hadn’t made those mistakes, or even the man she had known five years ago. She wanted only this man. This Alec. As he was now.

As the tears began to spill down her cheeks, Alec reached out and brushed them away with his thumbs. His touch lingered there before he cupped her face in his hands. “And I will spend the rest of my days trying to deserve it. But I want you to be happy more than anything, in whatever shape that may take. Just know that I am here. I will always be here for you. As whatever you wish.”

She frowned slightly through her tears. “Are you making me a proposal of…friendship?”

Alec brought her hands to his lips. “I don’t dare ask for more,” he said with a kiss. “But my feelings are unchanged from five years ago.” As their eyes met, he suddenly shook his head. “No. No, that’s not true at all. I love you so much more, Lottie. I didn’t think it possible, but I do. You’re so brave, and kind, and strong––” He paused and shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you with this,” he added. “It isn’t fair to––”

Lottie pressed a finger to his mouth. She was consumed with a fierce tenderness for this man who still, even now, placed her own desires above his. “Consider this my acceptance,” she said as she pulled his head down to hers. “Of all that you are. And everything you will be,” she murmured before pressing her lips to his.

Lottie had intended the kiss to communicate the sweetness in her heart.

I love you. I want you. Forever.

But it soon turned heavy with need.

Their bodies writhed and twisted together on the small window seat, each angling for the most pleasurable position until Alec managed to press Lottie’s back against the window frame. Then he tore his mouth from hers.

“I shouldn’t let you forgive me so easily, Lottie,” he panted, “but dammit, I’m such a fool when it comes to you.”

Lottie raised an eyebrow. “Respecting my ability to make decisions doesn’t make you a fool, Alec. It makes you my partner.”

He groaned as he sank heavily between her thighs. “I can happily live with that.” He caught her lips in another deep kiss. Waves of aching need rolled through her until it felt as if her entire body was made of fire. She began to hike her skirts up in rough, jerky movements, determined to sate this impossible hunger. But the movement seemed to wrench Alec from their cloud of lust. He pulled back, his eyes as hot as coals. “No. We can’t do this now,” he gasped. “Mrs. Houston is waiting back at the house.”

Lottie could hear the slight note of hesitation in his voice. She ran her fingers through the front of his hair and Alec stretched into her palm, like a cat begging to be scratched. “But then we might not have another chance to be alone together.”

Then he arched a brow. His gaze was so sharp, so intense, that Lottie felt it in her bones. “Now that you’ve accepted me, you think I have any intention of not marrying you as soon as possible?” His incredulousness sent a delightful shiver through her. “I’ve wanted this too much for too long.”

Lottie grinned. “Yes, my thoughts exactly.”

Alec let out a chuckle and threw up his hands in resignation. “Fine, I’ll respect your decision. But may I suggest we move to the camp bed at least?”

“I defer to your excellent judgment in such matters, seeing as your knowledge supersedes my own.”

Alec gave her an amused look as he pulled her to her feet. “Perhaps.” Then he wrapped a hand around her waist and drew her close. “But I suspect it will always feel like the first time with you,” he whispered against her ear, his voice both rough and warm.

“I’m beginning to think your father might not have been the only poet in the family,” she said as she moved them toward the ancient camp bed.

Alec smiled softly as he kneaded the nape of her neck with his warm fingers, weakening her knees even more. “I just needed to find my muse.”

Her eyes prickled at the potent mix of burning desire and endearing fondness swelling within her. “And I’m so happy you did.” She sat down and pulled Alec’s mouth toward hers once again.

And this time he offered no resistance.