Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,81
pluckings are richer.”
“You can’t have decided to be a gambler at age ten,” she said logically. “There had to have been another reason to uproot yourself.”
“Fergus and I wanted a grand adventure. So we joined a theatrical troupe here in London.”
“The theater? You were an actor?” How strange to imagine him in the artificial life of the stage. Yet it made sense. He would follow in his mother’s footsteps; he would gravitate to the world he knew.
“I wasn’t an actor,” he said. “I worked behind the scenes, doing odd jobs. I hardly even remember what.”
He spoke dismissingly, as if his rough childhood years were of no consequence. He settled onto her, heavy and hot, his hands gliding up and down her body. But she wasn’t ready to acquiesce. “Is that where you met Lazarus Cheever?” she asked.
“Yes—” Drake bit off his words, and through the gloom, she felt the force of his stare. “How the devil do you know him?”
“We were introduced at your club, of course. Yesterday evening.”
“Fergus,” he said through gritted teeth, “has some explaining to do.”
With her fingertips, she tenderly soothed his clenched jaw. “You truly do dislike for anyone to know of your generosity,” she murmured. “But I’m pleased by it. So tell me, is that how you know Mr. Cheever? From the theater?”
“I used to help him and the other players learn their lines by reading one of the other parts.” The admission sounded pulled from him.
“Is that how you lost your accent?” she prompted. “By reading aloud from plays?”
His exasperated breath gusted warm against her ear. “Och, dinna go on so,” he muttered. “Ye’re too bonny a lass to blether like an auld fusspot.”
His low-pitched brogue made her toes curl, and she couldn’t stop a delighted laugh. “Oh, Drake. I can see you as a mischievous lad, with your black hair and blue eyes … and your beautiful smile.” She traced his mouth with her fingertips, then the slight indentations on either side that deepened when he smiled. Her voice lowered to a yearning whisper. “I hope … that someday we have a son who looks just like you.”
He pulled in a harsh breath, his chest expanding against her bosom. With quick aggression, he pushed his hand between her thighs and stroked her. This time, she let herself respond with all the passion in her heart and body. Their differences ceased to matter in his arms. He made her feel desired, almost cherished, and she would seize every moment of happiness he offered her.
When it was over and they lay sated, their bodies cooling, she could sense his weariness. Gently she stroked back a lock of his hair and kissed his brow. Drake guarded his privacy, but this morning he had let her see a glimpse of himself. She felt as if he had finally become a whole man to her, a man with a past. Could she ever mean more to him than an obsession that would burn itself out?
She ached to know, to coax more answers out of him, but she had slept last night and he had not. Reluctantly she wriggled out from under him, only to feel his fingers curl around her wrist.
“Leaving?” he asked in a voice thick with exhaustion.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve things to do today.”
She half wished he would draw her back down, but after a moment he loosened his grip. Rising from the bed, she groped on the floor for her nightgown.
The linens rustled as he shifted position. His voice rumbled out of the darkness. “What things?”
“Well … I’ll spend the morning with Mama.…” Gathering her thoughts, Alicia slid the gown over her head, the silk cool on her sensitized skin. She knew one act she must accomplish today. She would visit Lord Hailstock’s son, James.
But she couldn’t tell Drake. Their accord was too wonderful, too new, to risk destroying it with a squabble. Though he had stated his intention to accompany her, she suspected his loathing for Lord Hailstock would cause him to put her off for days, for weeks, possibly longer. In the meantime, a disabled young man would do without the cheering visit of a friend.
Despising the need for subterfuge, she added lightly, “And Sarah came to call yesterday. Likely she’ll want me accompany her to the shops.”
Drake mumbled incoherently. He sounded halfway to slumber already. She could hear his breathing, slow and deep.
Alicia hesitated in the darkness, wishing she knew how to end his hostility toward the marquess. The rivalry between them