As Luck Would Have It (Providence #1)

“Really? That’s a bit unforgiving. I suppose Whit blames Mirabelle for the loss of his one true love.”


“He did, for a few months, until it finally reached his ears that the girl was a vain and spiteful little thing. But there was still the matter of his damaged pride, and by the time the two hotheads calmed down enough to realize the absurdity of the situation, more than enough cruel words had passed between them to render the rift unbreachable. They’ve continued on in the same fashion ever since, tolerating each other’s company, and barely that, for the sake of mutual loved ones.”

“Hmm,” Sophie murmured. “Seems to me Whit should have thanked Mirabelle for saving him from a disastrous union.”

“He might someday, if she ever gets around to apologizing for tossing him into the lake.”

“She never did?”

“No, she insists it was nothing more than he deserved for behaving so poorly to Kate.”

“I see. It’s a shame they’re both so stubborn.”

“Stubborn, I believe, is far too tame a word for the pair. Unfathomably mule-headed suits better, I think.”

“That’s more than one word.”

“In this particular case, more than one is required. I stand by them.”

Sophie frowned in thought. “It’s odd,” she mused, “that I’ve never heard so much as a hint of this before.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s a rather long tale.”

She shook her head. “I meant their general feelings toward each other. I’ve spent a good deal of time in Kate and Mirabelle’s company since coming to London. Naturally, Whit has been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion, and I’ve never heard Mirabelle say anything unkind or—”

“Just Whit?” Alex asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is Whit the only natural topic of conversation?”

“Don’t be absurd, we discuss a great many things.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up expectantly.

“Including you,” Sophie finally admitted with a roll of her eyes. “But we are not discussing you right now—”

“Oh, but we should. I’m a great deal more interesting.”

“You’re a great deal more something,” Sophie replied.

“Handsome?” he offered with a grin. “Dangerous?” he guessed, leaning toward her. “Irresistible?” he very nearly purred.

Sophie leaned away from him, her eyes darting frantically about the terrace. “Alex—”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “They’ve all gone in.”

And with that rather unromantic, but nonetheless thoughtful reassurance, he took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly, his lips gentle and undemanding. Sophie felt his free hand snake around her waist to press the lightest of touches on the small of her back. She melted into him, the world around her disappearing.

There was only Alex. She felt only his hands, heard only his whispered breath, tasted only his mouth upon her own.

Too soon he pulled back, and she felt her body involuntarily follow his retreating form. She wanted more, so much more. He chuckled softly against her lips and she opened her eyes. Good Lord, she had gone from leaning a considerable ways back to practically sitting in his lap. She sat back and gave him an embarrassed smile.

“I should go,” she said, mostly to fill the silence.

“Come with me,” he urged.

“Where?”

“Someplace more private.”

Sophie pulled away, the haze in her mind instantly clearing. If he needed someplace more private than a spot suitable for heated kissing, then he wanted to do more than just kiss.

“We’ve been out here too long already,” she told him. “And I promised Lord Verant the first waltz.”

Alex’s visage darkened immediately. “What are you hiding from me?”

Sophie stood to leave. She couldn’t deny his accusation, nor was she ready yet to explain her behavior.

Alex grabbed her wrist before she could make a single step toward the door. He stood and yanked her closer to him in a single fluid movement.

“Enough,” he growled. “You’re mine, Sophie, not Mr. Johnson’s, not Lord Verant’s, and God knows not Sir Frederick’s. I have allowed you your fun, but no more. No more games, Sophie, and no more secrets. Do you understand?”

“It is not a game,” she whispered through dry lips.

“Then tell me what it is,” he snapped.

She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything and then cry in his arms. She no longer feared his betrayal, but…

What if he tried to talk her out of it? Her determination was unreliable at best these days. If he convinced her to forgo her plan in favor of a liaison with him, she’d likely be ruined—along with her father, Mrs. Summers, and Mr. Wang.

Alissa Johnson's books