hard, yet she was enveloped in the incredible warmth and softness of him. Lost. She was completely and utterly lost in this man’s embrace. She didn’t care if she was never found.
Abruptly Alex pushed her away from him.
Feeling somewhat dazed, as if she were waking from a dream, she reluctantly opened her eyes to see him staring at her intently. He was breathing as hard as she was, and their eyes locked together. Too stunned by their powerful reaction to each other to speak, they simply gazed into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity, trying to catch their breaths and make some sense out of what had just happened. He reached for her hands again and held them tightly in his own.
Smiling faintly at him, Caroline struggled to breathe. She felt hot and shaky, not at all herself. The desire to have him kiss her like that again ran rampant in her veins and left her trembling and without the ability to speak. To say something. Anything. Instead of standing there willing him with her eyes to kiss her again. Gazing up at him, she knew he knew exactly what she wanted from him. She should be embarrassed to the tips of her toes, but for some inexplicable reason she was not embarrassed at all.
They were still staring at each other, not saying a word, when a young man and woman, whispering and giggling together, stumbled out onto the balcony, interrupting their little reverie. Caroline barely noticed them, but Alex quickly dropped her hands.
“Oh, excuse us, Your Grace. We didn’t mean to disturb you,” the young man apologized nervously, as the red-haired girl he was with stared at them with wide eyes, both of them suddenly subdued.
Alex flashed them a friendly smile. “It’s quite all right. We were just going inside. Good evening.”
He quickly guided Caroline through the French doors and back into the house. In the candlelit hallway, he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. “Please forgive my behavior. I shouldn’t have taken such liberties with you,” he apologized, but his eyes said he had no regrets.
She merely blinked at him.
“Well, Caroline, it seems our secrets are well sealed and quite safe now.”
“I’m not sure the etiquette book would approve of this…” she murmured.
He grinned ruefully. “No doubt you are quite right. You had better return to the ballroom. Although I must say that I enjoyed our little…conversation…immensely.”
“Yes…thank you very much.” Did I just thank him for kissing me? Caroline thought she was losing her mind completely. “I’m sure my grandmother must be wondering where I am by now,” she managed to whisper, as she quickly turned and made her way on shaky legs down the dimly lit corridor.
Somehow, she found an unoccupied alcove, partitioned with heavy velvet drapes, in which to sit for a moment. Her breathing still had not slowed, and her head was spinning wildly with thoughts and feelings she didn’t know she possessed. Feeling strangely giddy and bubbly, she was amazed at her brazen behavior. She had a sinking feeling that had Alex not ended the kiss when he did, she very well might have let him take further liberties with her, because she had certainly been incapable of stopping him at the time. The thought had not even entered her mind to stop him.
Mortified by her feelings, she covered her heated cheeks with her hands. She wanted to scream and giggle and cry all in the same instant. How could she have behaved so disgracefully? What had come over her? She had not wanted his kiss to end. She had wanted it to go on and on, and when it did end, she wanted to cry out with the loss of it. How could she feel this way about a complete stranger when Stephen’s kisses had never made her feel this way?
Stephen!
She clutched her stomach and rocked back and forth, now feeling slightly ill. Not once had she thought about Stephen Bennett. Oh, she was shameful. Dreadful. She had no business kissing another man. A man she didn’t even know!
Yet that was what was so extraordinary. Alex didn’t feel like a stranger.
Caroline couldn’t shake the sensation that she knew him. But that couldn’t be. She had only just met Mr. Alexander Woodward.
Your Grace.
The young man on the balcony had called Alex “Your Grace.” That was the form of address for a duke. And there was only one duke she knew of that would be at the Maxwells’ ball tonight.
This could only mean that Alexander Woodward was none other than the Duke of Woodborough.
The well-known, handsome, wealthy, sought-after Duke of Woodborough had just kissed her passionately in the moonlight. She couldn’t suppress a bubble of feminine pride from rising up within her, and she giggled. Then she suddenly stopped.
The Duke of Woodborough was practically engaged to Lady Madeline Maxwell. At least that’s what everyone was saying.
Then what was he doing, hiding on the balcony at the home of his intended betrothed, saying he didn’t want to get married, and kissing Caroline? What was he about with his heated kisses and his wonderful hands on her when he was practically engaged to another? A tiny pang of jealousy pricked her at the thought of him marrying that haughty Madeline Maxwell.
Laughing at herself and the ridiculousness of the situation, she wondered idly whatever happened to the reasonable, sensible Caroline. Quite sure she didn’t know, she sighed deeply, knowing she had better hurry back to the ballroom. She quietly returned to her grandmother, seated in a dim corner. The loud music and steady hum of conversation now irritated her already frayed nerves, so it was not difficult for her to feign an illness when Olivia asked where she had been.
“I just went out for some fresh air. I have a crushing headache.”
“You do look a little flushed,” Olivia noticed with some concern, smoothing her hand across Caroline’s forehead. “And you look more like your mother than you will ever know,” she said with a bittersweet smile. Then she became stern. “Lord Summerton came to claim his dance with you.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmother, but I fear I’m not up to dancing at the moment. I feel ill,” she murmured, placing her hand to her temple. Sensing her grandmother’s disappointment that she was not making the great impression expected of her, she truly felt ill and was no longer capable of acting her role of the boring old spinster this evening. She had just been kissed by a complete stranger and was stunned by the impact. How could she now dance with awkward boys and pretend to be a bluestocking? Nervously, her eyes scanned the room hoping to catch a glimpse of Alexander Woodward. Yet she feared that she would. For whatever would she say if she did see him?
Then she saw him.
Her heart began to thud in her chest, and her stomach fluttered in a nervous reaction that was new to her. Alexander Woodward was standing across the room, speaking with Lord Maxwell. In the light, she was amazed by just how strikingly handsome he was, even in profile. The sight of him took her breath away. The strong line of his jaw, the aquiline nose, the chiseled features—it was as if he were carved from marble. His black hair gleamed. His eyes flashed. He seemed taller than she remembered, because he practically towered over every man in the room. He had an energy around him that fascinated her. There was a distinctly displeased look on his face at the moment, however. He seemed more than irritated. His sensual mouth was set in a grim line. The unusual thought that she would never want to cause him to look at her that way flickered briefly through her mind. She preferred the way he looked at her after they had kissed. It was an intimate, knowing look. It made her feel special. She couldn’t help but wonder
