“Such talk.” Alice’s lips compressed rather than let a smile show.
“Come.” Ethan tossed the pillow back on the bed and drew her to her feet. “I said I wouldn’t stay long, and I am a man of my word. I’ve been longing to see what you look like with your hair down, so stop stalling.”
“You’ve seen it down,” Alice replied, but she let him guide her to her vanity. How dangerous could it be to let him simply brush her hair?
“I’ve seen it coming down, and I’ve seen it in a braid. That isn’t down.”
“It’s just hair.”
Ethan said nothing, taking the glasses from her nose and then letting his hands rest for a moment on her shoulders. The gesture quieted her, brought her calm inside, where she still wasn’t quite settled enough from her busy day to contemplate sleep.
“Relax, Alice.” Ethan held her shoulders. “I will merely brush out your hair and bid you good night.”
She waited, but instead of getting down to work, Ethan’s hands massaged her shoulders, then her neck, until Alice was leaning forward, her forehead resting on the arms she’d folded on her vanity.
If this be seduction, then let it never end.
“Better,” Ethan murmured, and only then did Alice feel his deft fingers sliding pins from her hair. He worked with a kind of methodical rhythm, until her braid swung free, then he easily unplaited her hair, leaving it flowing down her back.
“So pretty.” In the mirror, she watched while he brought a handful of her hair to his nose. “And this is why you smell of lemon verbena.”
“I keep sachets with my clothing too,” Alice said as Ethan trailed her hair down her back. “It’s a perky scent, suitable for a governess.”
“Perky.” Ethan’s lips quirked. “Tart, bracing, unexpected, with an underlying allure.” She thought, from the husky note in his voice, he might start in kissing her neck. She loved it when he kissed her neck—he’d already taught her that about herself—but he took the brush to her hair, sweeping it in long strokes that tickled her back through her nightclothes.
“You like this,” Ethan mused as he divided her hair into three thick skeins. “Left or right?”
Alice stifled a yawn. “I switch off. I’m right-handed, so over the right shoulder is easier.”
“Then I’ll do you a left-handed braid.” He got it just so, not too tight, not too loose, and positioned to lie over her left shoulder. When he finished, he rested his hands again on her shoulders.
“Thank you.” Alice could not hold back this yawn. “You have a nice touch with a brush, Ethan.”
He smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “So nice, I’ve put you to sleep.”
Hadn’t that been his aim? “I do feel more ready for rest now. Thank you.”
He held her chair, and as she got to her feet, Alice felt a little frustration that he wouldn’t use their proximity to kiss her further.
“Good night.” She met his gaze, finding his expression half-amused, half-veiled.
“I wasn’t going to do this,” he muttered. He drew her closer and dipped his head. When he settled his lips over hers, Alice snuggled in against him, relieved to be in his embrace. It was an easy, undemanding, friendly kiss, with Ethan’s mouth moving slowly over hers, his tongue lazy.
“Good night, Alice,” Ethan said, drawing back only the half inch necessary to permit speech.
She rose on her toes and fused her mouth to his, causing Ethan’s lips to quirk up when she went foraging with her tongue.
He tolerated her quest for a moment, then drew back and tucked her face against his chest. “You need your sleep, and if you toy with me, I won’t answer for the consequences.”
His words did not initially sink in, because Alice was making an investigation of the taste of his neck and throat, but the stillness in his body—and rising hardness pressing against her belly—did.
“You are serious.”
“I desire you mightily, Alice Portman.”
“Alex,” she corrected him. “My real name is Alexandra, but that isn’t a governess name.”
“Alexandra.” His hand smoothed over the back of her head. “You honor me with such a confidence. It’s important.”
“It’s just a name.” She rested her forehead against his chest.
“It’s just your name,” Ethan corrected gently. “Just your hair, just your trust. Yours, Alexandra.” His arms around her were gentle yet secure, and she felt the sting of tears. To hear her name, her real name, was such a gift, particularly spoken with the near reverence he gave it.
“I’ll leave you now,” Ethan said, but he held her a moment longer. “Nick and I will ride out with George in the morning. You sleep in. The day will be trying.”
She nodded, not wanting him to go, but slipping her arms from his waist when he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.
“Good night, Ethan.” She smiled as he turned at the door to blow her a kiss.
“Good night, Alex.” He smiled back, and then he was gone.
But not before Alice caught a glimpse of Nick leaning against the wall outside the boys’ room, arms crossed over his chest, expression thunderous.
Twelve
“Whatever went on in Alice’s room,” Nick rumbled ominously, “it had better have been with the lady’s consent.”
“And a pleasant good evening to you too. Are you spying on me, Nicholas?”
“Maybe.” Nick pushed away from the wall with his back. “I came up to say good night to the boys, as their papa was supposedly doing.”
“I said good night to them and to their governess.”
Nick looked disgruntled, like a man who was spoiling for a fight, only to realize there was nothing to fight over. “She deserves more than a quick tumble, and you’d best not be trifling with her.”
“I agree.” Ethan took Nick by the arm and turned him down the hallway. “This is not the place to air your concerns. Did you leave me any of Heathgate’s whiskey?”
“We did. George is a lightweight, for all he’s newly down from school.”
“A mere child. So explain to me, worldly earl that you are, how it is Alice deserves more than a quick tumble and not trifling with.”
“The rules are simple, and because I played by them, and played hard for years, I will recite them for you: You may dally wherever an experienced woman consents, provided her husband has his heir and spare. If you get a single woman pregnant, you must insist on marriage. Never bother virgins, for they require inordinate care and get romantic notions. Widows are a law unto themselves.”
Nick could have stitched his blighted rules into samplers, so sanctimonious was his tone.
“Alice wouldn’t marry me if I were given a damned title by the Regent,” Ethan said. “And for the record, Nicholas, I merely kissed her.” And brushed her hair, and cuddled in her lap like a lonely cat, and kissed her some more, and held her, and could not wait to do more of the same.
“So you’re taking your time. That’s good. It gives Alice time to come to her senses.”
“And send me packing?” Ethan asked as they reached the library.
“No.” Nick smiled a little. “She’ll have you proposing and be accepting your suit.”
“I can’t expect that. There are certain things that can befall a man in this life which permanently reduce his expectations, particularly with respect to matrimony. Alice seems to have a similarly jaundiced view of marriage,” Ethan replied, crossing to the decanter. “More for you?”
“Yes. I abused that whiskey earlier today. This evening, I offer it only my most sincere respect.”