Read Online What a Lady Craves by Ashlyn Macnamara - Free Book Online Page B

flood of regret over what might have been. Her imagination took hold and erased the past. For a moment, she was eighteen again, and he’d never left England. She saw him as her husband, who had cornered her in a forgotten corridor to tease her. To awaken her body. To remind her he awaited her in his bed that night. Her younger self had yearned to reach out with both hands and grasp a happy future with Alexander.
    Good Lord, what had possessed him to propose to her now of all times? But then, his aunt had been pushing for the same thing down at breakfast. She had to have talked him into it.No other explanation made sense.
    Henrietta pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold back a sob waiting to erupt. They were still raw. His kisses were far too tempting for her own good. They threatened to wipe her mind clean of the pain he’d put her through. They opened her to him, made her vulnerable. Surely they’d lead her down the very path she refused to tread for any man.
    Most especially not Alexander Sanford.

Chapter Six
    Alexander’s footfalls thumped down the corridor. Of all the deuced, idiotic things he could have done, he had to propose to her. Henrietta. Good God, why? Why had he gone about it in such a ham-fisted manner?
    And after that kiss? An impulse, nothing more, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Not when they were standing so close in that darkened passageway.
    But who was he fooling? He’d never done an impulsive thing in his life. Well, no, that wasn’t true, either. Miss Upperton called to that thread of spontaneity buried deep inside him. He’d first asked her to dance on a whim. First coaxed her away from her mama’s prying eyes because her wit charmed him. First kissed her because her lips enticed—and because he knew she would let him.
    From all appearances, she would still permit it—to a point.
    He paused and ran both hands through his hair. That was the problem. She’d be wary from now on—as she should. She wouldn’t let him get close for fear he’d demand more. And he would, given the chance. As before, he couldn’t get enough of her. One dance wasn’t sufficient, nor was one kiss or one touch. In that, he hadn’t changed a whit.
    Except he no longer had the right to ask anything of her. Not kisses, not marriage. A perfect gentleman—a man of
honor
would respect her wishes.
    But once more, he felt the sweetness of her response to him, the taste of her, the litheness of her form pressed against his. Soft breasts, the flare of hips, narrow waist.
Do you remember?
    Lord only knew he did, and that brief embrace in the upstairs corridor had torn back the veil of years that separated them. Ripped it right in half. The whole time he was kissing her, he might as well have believed he’d never left England. He’d never hurt her. He’d never met Marianne.
    He found himself in front of the door to his bedchamber. As long as he remained holed up here, he might as well get on with his correspondence. He still had to notify his old school friends, who had invested privately in his venture, of the disaster. He still had to figure out how to recoup some of his personal losses. All of that ought to occupy his mind before Henrietta Upperton even entered his imagination.
    Yet his lips were still warm from her kiss. His body still hummed from it. His pride still stung from her set-down.
    Damn it all. But really, what other outcome could he have expected so soon?
    He grabbed the handle and yanked open the door. A familiar odor of heady spice brought him to a dead halt. Subtle vapor reached his nostrils, filled them, actually, with a scent at once unexpected and calming. With every intake of breath, his pulse seemed to pound a little less until it settled into its usual steady rhythm.
    In the far corner, Satya sat cross-legged, his heels resting on his thighs. His hands rested against either knee, thumbs and middle fingers forming circles. At Alexander’s entrance, his eyes remained closed. He