There was something oddly suspicious about Nathaniel Michael
Winters, Fifth Earl of Pembroke.
It wasn’t the kind of oddly suspicious that aroused one’s
fear, per se.
But more the kind of—something was…well, off.
Lady Alexandra Foster cocked her head and studied Nathan
from her spot on the Pomona green silk brocade settee in her
father’s parlor. Nathan stood staring out the window, his
tall, broadly muscular frame stiffly erect, his hands folded
behind his back.
Her eyes darted to the loudly ticking ormolu clock on the
fireplace mantle.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She’d counted no fewer than twenty beats of the grating
rhythm filling the ominously quiet parlor. Counting had
always been something of a calming technique for Alexandra
since she’d mastered her numbers in the schoolroom. Nathan
had teased her about it since the moment she’d confessed the
oddity to him.
“Nathan, I—”
He spun on his heel as if suddenly alerted to her presence,
as if he hadn’t been aware that twenty beats of the clock’s
grating rhythm had passed since she’d taken her seat.
Alexandra’s heart sped up as it always did when he trained
that beautiful sapphire gaze on her. She still couldn’t
fathom that he, in all his stunning demonstration of male
beauty, should have deigned to notice her. She could never
tire of appreciating him. The six-foot, lean, lithe form.
The sinfully dark curls that complemented his olive tone.
The perfect, strong lines of his face, marred by a slight
bend in his nose from a break that had never healed
properly. Alexandra found it only added to his charm.
Her heart thumped against the wall of her chest so loudly he
could surely hear the telltale beat. This time the intensity
with which he studied her caused something other than
happiness to quicken her heart.
“I counted twenty beats on the clock,” she said nervously.
She waited for that slow, seductive smile that he always
reserved just for her.
Except this time, no teasing smile tilted the corners of his
lips. This time, there was no witty rejoinder. Nor a playful
flick of one of her errant curls.
“You are scaring me.” She flinched at the edge of fear
lacing her words.
Nathan opened his mouth, paused. Whatever he’d been about to
say remained unspoken.
His arms fell to his sides, and he paced the floor.
“That is hardly reassuring,” she muttered in an attempt at
levity.
He paused mid-stride and suddenly crossed to Alexandra. He
dropped to a knee beside her and claimed her hand in his.
She studied the two hands entwined like old lovers. Hers
pale and delicate, his olive-toned and powerful.
She shoved aside the cloying fear threatening to overwhelm
her. “Why this darkness today?”
“I must offer my apologies.” He rose and sat next to her.
“It is not my intention to alarm you,” he said. “There is a
matter of business that distracts me today.”
In spite of his close positioning, it seemed the gulf
between them remained greater than Westminster Bridge.
Still, Alexandra calmed at those words. She and the rest of
ton were aware of the shambles the previous Lord Pembroke
had left for his son. The Fourth Earl of Pembroke had been
something of a lecher, a known reprobate who’d squandered
much of his wealth at the gaming tables. Alexandra could say
definitively, Nathan was nothing like his predecessor.
“Maybe it will help to speak about it?” Alexandra suggested.
A hollow laugh, devoid of any mirth, escaped him. The sound
raised gooseflesh along her arms.
“No one and nothing can help me.”
She reached for his hand and pulled it close, squeezing it
for reassurance. “Regardless of the problems you face, I
will always stand beside you. You must be assured of that.”
His throat bobbed up and down, and then he raised his eyes
to meet hers.
The agony reflected in those blue pools nearly bowled her over.
“If only I could erase your hurt,” she murmured. Alexandra
reached a hand up and made to caress his cheek, but he
flinched, and she let it fall uselessly to her side.
Nathan reclaimed her hand and carried it to his mouth. He
placed his lips sweetly, caressing the top of her hand, and
then turned it over. His hot breath fanned the inside
portion of her wrist, and she shivered. “Do you know the
moment I fell in love with you?” he asked on a hoarse whisper.
Her breath caught and held when his lips achingly loved her
wrist. Her eyes slid closed. She was incapable of words. “Mmm?”
He ceased his ministrations and raised his head. “The moment
I saw you come to the aid of a child being spanked by his
nanny in Hyde Park. I fell in love with you then.”
Tears popped behind her lids and her vision blurred. “I love
you.”
He winced. “Your father is right. I am not worthy of your love.”
She tapped his cheek with a finger. “Don’t say that. He is
wrong. Those words couldn’t be more untrue.”
“Why do you love me?” he persisted. “Why, in spite of what
my father was, in spite of the state of my holdings, why
would you choose me as the man to give your love?”
There was desperation to Nathan’s words, words that shook
with the force of his emotion.
Alexandra’s lips turned up. “Silly man. Why ever would I
judge you for the faults of your father? You are not like
him. You’re not,” she insisted when he made a sound of
disagreement.