They continued to rattle on about their own prospects for marriage and then switched back into English in an attempt to convince the men around them to go clubbing after dinner.
Alex picked at her food and ignored her wine, except for the occasional toast. When dinner had finished, everyone mingled together until a uniformed butler served tea and dessert in the living room. Frank followed her to the dessert table. So much for an escape.
He hovered over her as she picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry. “You should come out to the Funky Goat with us.”
“Funky Goat?”
“It’s a club in King’s Cross. We’re leaving in a few minutes if you need a ride?”
Henry approached them, and the stress of Frank’s pursuit dissipated.
“That’s so kind, but I’m pretty tired and want some time alone with Henry.”
“That’s right. I hear congratulations are order.”
Henry moved in and placed his arm around her waist. Perfect timing. “Thanks, Stevens. I’m lucky she said yes. Will you be in London long?”
Frank’s gaze turned from Henry back to Alex. “Regrettably, no. I must be getting back to our office in San Jose.”
“Call me when you’re in the area again. We can catch up.” Henry spoke with his lips caressing the top of her ear.
The intimacy caused Frank to mumble something in reply and slip away to speak to someone more available.
“How was dinner?” Henry turned to Alex.
“Perfect. I haven’t had foie gras terrine with caramelized apples in forever.”
His support felt good. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you liked it. Do you mind if we take off early? I think we’ve accomplished what we’d set out to do.”
They’d proven everything important. They could appear as an actual couple, Alex could behave well enough to be acceptable in the right circles, and she wouldn’t pass gas at a dinner table. What a proud moment.
It wasn’t difficult. She’d pretended to be her mother for the evening. Gabrielle would have been thrilled to see her embracing her birthright for once. “I’m ready to go. And my feet are ready, too. I haven’t worn heels since my last formal dinner party.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“A long time.”
They bid good-night to his aunt and uncle, before Henry left to retrieve their overcoats.
She approached Red and Bony in the foyer. She whispered to them in Russian. “Henry didn’t choose a woman like either of you because it’s cheaper to pay your type by the hour than commit for life.”
She walked away to join Henry without bothering to wait for their reactions.
…
Henry glanced at Gabe during the drive to Oxford. Her head tilted toward him, eyes closed, and body relaxed. She’d been the most sought-after guest at the party. Her intelligence bubbled up in everything she’d said. Frank had been captivated. His eyes had remained transfixed on her all evening. Who could blame him? She was a beautiful dinner companion who listened thoughtfully and offered intelligent commentary on subjects ranging from economics to the new director of the Bolshoi Ballet.
After pulling the car into the garage, Henry tried to rouse her. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
“Ten more minutes,” she whispered.
“If you don’t walk by yourself, I’ll be forced to carry you.”
“Go ahead. My ankles are swollen from the high heels.” Her eyes remained closed, but her back arched in a cat stretch, and she moaned like a woman in the throes of passion.
He bit back his desire, opened her door, and picked her up. She weighed nothing. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tucked her face into his shoulder. Her breath sent shivers all the way through him.
He entered through the front door and climbed the main staircase. Without thinking, he headed toward his room and placed her on his bed. The light from the hall illuminated her blond hair as though an angel had landed in his presence How long had it been since a beautiful woman’s hair fanned out across his pillow? Too long.
The guest room would have been a better location for her, but his body placed the woman who made his blood boil where it wanted her. His brain, however, kicked in and ordered him to remove her from his bed. His brain lost the argument. He’d leave her alone after one quick kiss good-night. A kiss would be an appropriate finish to an evening spent acting as an engaged couple. In fact, it would make them more comfortable with each other in public. She yawned and then licked her lips. Just one kiss. He placed his lips on hers with a light touch.
One simple good-night kiss on the lips, however, turned into much more when she feathered her fingers over his cheek and returned the kiss.
“Taking advantage of someone sleeping, Sir Henry? Desperation becomes you.” Her breathing became heavy, and her expression turned sensual and welcoming. She stretched her arms over her head. The movement shifted her dress above her thighs.
“It’s Lord Henry to you.” He lifted her chin and deepened the kiss. She tasted of chocolate, the chocolate-covered strawberries served at the end of the party. God, he was hungry for chocolate. Starved.
“Good night, Lord Henry.” Her eyes closed, but a slight smile remained on those pretty lips.
No chocolate for him tonight. He wanted to stay with her, but it had been a long day for both of them. She needed to rest, and he had to leave before he messed up their business relationship.
He made his way to the den. A wood-paneled room created for watching television and unwinding within close proximity to a fully stocked bar. Simon was lounging in his favorite leather recliner, nursing a beer.
“Did you see Nicola tonight?” Henry headed over to pour himself some scotch.
“I did. She told me to say hi to you in between screams of ecstasy.”
His hunger for Gabe unsatisfied, Henry was in no mood for Simon’s bragging. He made himself a double.
They both drank in silence. Despite his current mood, Henry liked living with Simon. The house was too big to live in alone. They rarely bothered each other, rarely became involved in each other’s lives. It worked.