Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,73
to flesh. He wanted to thrust inside her. He wanted to rid himself of this power she held over him. Now.
He pulled at her skirts, only to stagger backward under the force of her shove. Disoriented by passion, Drake grabbed for her, but she slipped beneath his arm and darted across the office.
He stalked after her. When she tried to wrest open the door, he planted his palm on the oak panel. “For Christ’s sake, Alicia—”
She spun to face him. Her distraught expression silenced him. His gaze riveted to the unshed tears in her eyes.
“I can’t resist you,” she said in bitter bewilderment. “Not even knowing what you’ve done to my brother.”
Drake felt unmanned by her tears. Wanting to comfort her and despising her effect on him, he bit out, “I’ve done nothing. If you would understand that—”
“No, you try to understand,” she said wildly, her gaze stark. “My father shot himself. He fell so far into debt from gambling that he could no longer face his family. And I fear … I fear Gerald may someday do the same.”
Chapter Seventeen
Alicia maintained the pretense of calm all the way to the back staircase. Her footsteps echoed in the narrow shaft. A wall sconce on each landing provided light for the servants, but thankfully, the place was deserted.
Wilting onto the wooden steps, she buried her face in her hands and released her bottled-up tears. She could not understand herself. How could she desire a man who preyed upon the weaknesses of others? How could she have let passion overshadow her hatred of gambling?
She hadn’t meant to hurl the truth at Drake. Few people knew the nature of her father’s death. It had been Lord Hailstock’s idea to conceal the horrifying reality, and grief-stricken, she had allowed him to handle the matter, to sort through her father’s affairs and pay off his ruinous debts. The shooting had been attributed to a thwarted robbery. If people whispered, she had heard none of it. She had kept busy caring for Mama, who had gone out of her mind with grief, and consoling Gerald, a bewildered thirteen-year-old.
She sat there for a while, weeping. Then, on the floor above, a door clicked open. Heavy footsteps descended the stairs. Drake?
She sprang up, sniffling, scrubbing at her damp cheeks. She must not let him see her weakness. He would use it to his own purposes.
But the man who came into view wasn’t her husband.
He was a tall, rangy giant clad in sober black. The leather patch over one eye made him appear sinister. The butler, she remembered. He had escorted her up to Drake’s office that day she had come to make her desperate offer.
She averted her head and waited for him to pass. But he stopped two steps above her. When he didn’t proceed, she tilted her head back to see him regarding her with faint horror.
“Wilder didna say he’d driven ye to tears.”
Making a final furtive brush at her cheeks, she forced a polite smile. “You spoke to him?”
“Aye. The dastard ordered me to find ye and take ye to yer brother.”
In spite of her distress, she felt oddly cheered by his disapproval of Drake. “Thank you, Mr.…”
“MacAllister,” he said gruffly. “Fergus MacAllister.” He thumped down the steps and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Dinna fret over yer husband. He’s a braw heart beneath all his manly blustering. His mither raised him well.”
Alicia wasn’t sure what braw meant, but she did know that Drake had nothing resembling a heart. Biting her tongue, she asked, “Did you know his mother?”
“Aye. We met in Edinburgh long ago, when she was a puir actress, struggling to support the wee bairn.” On that stunning statement, he went past Alicia and tramped down the stairs.
Holding on to the wooden rail, she hastened after him. “Drake was born in Scotland? He never told me so.”
MacAllister snorted. “’Tis no surprise. The lad’s a close-mouthed one.”
“He doesn’t speak with a brogue.”
“Nay. After his mither died, we came to London and he set himself to learning the fancy ways of the nobility.”
“How old was he?”
“Ten, m’lady. And alone in the world save fer me. Times were wretched fer him, then.” He regarded her with a piercing stare. “’Twill take patience to earn his love, ye ken.”
Alicia stiffened. Did he think she wanted Drake’s love? Or that she needed advice on her marriage?
She should be offended by MacAllister’s presumption. But he had known Drake since childhood, and she supposed that gave him a certain prerogative. Besides, she