Lady Alexandra's Lover (Sex and the Season #3) - Helen Hardt Page 0,33

parlor door opened.

“Lady Alexandra, you have a visitor,” Graves said.

Well, at least it wouldn’t be Mr. Landon. “Who is it, Graves?”

“Mr. Nathan Landon, my lady.”

Her stomach lurched. Had he come to tell her good-bye? That had to be it. Why would he come back here wanting more of her after he had seen her at her absolute worst? Perhaps she should refuse to receive him. That would make it easier. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to his rejection.

“I’m afraid I’m not receiving today, Graves. Tell him to send me a written message, and I shall respond in kind.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Graves left, closing the door behind him.

Ally’s nerves skittered. Goodness, just when she was enjoying a restful afternoon. Sophie had gone to her chamber for an afternoon nap, so Ally was basically alone in the large house but for the servants. She hadn’t seen Evan all day. Perhaps he was in Bath on business.

She looked up as the parlor door opened once again.

“My lady, beg pardon,” Graves said, “but Mr. Landon insists upon seeing you. He is being quite persistent. I thought it best to ask again before I had him thrown out.”

What on earth could this be about? She didn’t want him thrown out, so she had no choice. “Fine. Send him in, Graves. But he won’t be staying long.”

Mr. Landon strutted into the parlor, proud as a peacock and dressed in dark green velvet. “My lady, I was fraught with disappointment when you chose not to receive me today.”

“Well, it appears I have received you nonetheless, so no need for disappointment,” she said.

“I wish to see how you are recovering from your carriage accident. I’ve been in a constant state of worry over it.”

She warmed a bit. Perhaps he did still care for her, despite her frazzled appearance the previous day. On the other hand, he was probably just being gentlemanly. Whatever the reason, she must be a good hostess.

“Mr. Landon, it’s a pleasure to see you as always. Thank you for your concern, but I assure you I am completely fine. Just a few bumps and bruises. Our poor coachman did not fare nearly as well. He was thrown and killed on impact. I’m thankful Lord Evan and I were inside the coach. It clearly saved our lives.”

“I am so sorry this horrible incident has befallen you. May I sit?”

“Of course.” Ally nodded to the settee across from where she was sitting.

Mr. Landon instead crossed the room and took a seat next to Ally on the divan. She shuddered for a moment at his closeness. But the quiver was different than what she was used to around Mr. Landon. She trembled not from arousal, but from… Was it fear? Of course not. She had been with Mr. Landon many times before. And she certainly wasn’t feeling the rapid heartbeat of fear or the instinct to run screaming. Since she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling, she chose to ignore it.

“I’m so pleased to see that you have recovered.” Mr. Landon took her hand and lightly brushed his lips over it.

“As you can see, I’m no worse for the wear.” Ally smiled shakily.

Mr. Landon continued to kiss the top of her hand, moving to her wrist and then to her forearm as he rained the gentle kisses over her skin. She gasped, waiting for the goose bumps that usually accompanied his kisses.

They failed to erupt.

Mr. Landon looked up when she drew her hand away.

“My lady, I will be leaving for London tomorrow. I’m planning to attend the remaining balls of the season. I hope very much that I shall see you at one or more of them.”

“Sir, I do believe my stepbrother, sister, and I will be making the trip. I do so look forward to a dance with you.”

“As do I, my beautiful lady.” He took her hand once more and drew it to his lips. Instead of pressing gentle kisses onto her palm, this time he pulled her toward him, caught her in an embrace, and kissed her lips, sliding his tongue along the seam.

She and Mr. Landon had kissed on many occasions, and Ally had never hesitated to open to him. His kisses were smooth and succulent like a fine wine. But what she craved now were Evan’s kisses. His kisses were rough and passionate, raw with power and desire, not so much like a fine wine but more like a hearty Scotch whiskey, that although smooth,