But her voice was barely audible, her hands were clenched at her sides, and unless he missed his guess, her thighs were clenched as well against her sexual need.
'You liked Tina's new baby. You said she was all pink and cuddly.' Moving forward, he took her in his arms and she didn't push him away this time. 'We could think about it at least…'
A much-longed-for baby would be heaven; how often had she wished for a child in her marriages, Alex thought, struggling to maintain her anger in the face of such blissful possibilities. She leaned a fraction closer to the man who could make her dreams come true-in terms of babies if nothing else. 'You won't stay.'
He didn't pretend not to understand. 'I will.' Even as he spoke, he questioned his sanity, but the words seemed right just then and true.
A warmth of longing, a glow of hope quite apart from reality, infused her body and soul, enveloped her-them, perhaps, she thought with roseate fondness. 'I'd like to believe you.'
He drew in a small breath against the shocking significance of what he was about to say. 'Believe me.'
She smiled. 'Am I supposed to forget all the ladies?'
'At least I haven't been married twice, nor do I sleep with underage people.'
'Harry's of age.'
'By a day, maybe. But, look,' Sam said quickly, 'I don't want to argue about anything in our past. I don't want to argue at all. I want to make love to you. I even want to give you a baby if you want one, and just so you understand my amateur status in that regard, I'd like you to know I've never made that offer before.'
'What if I accept your offer? What then?'
'We'll deal with it.'
'It?'
'The baby.'
Her brows rose.
'Our baby.'
She suddenly laughed. 'I believe that was terror I saw.'
He smiled. 'Only a transient uncertainty, darling.'
'I do enjoy being your darling.'
'Not as much as I. I hope we're done fighting.'
'I seem to want you more than I don't want you.'
'Thank God.'
She shook her head. 'My feelings are purely secular and explicit.'
His smile was slow, unutterably sensual, and so beautiful, she knew she'd never forget it. 'We're definitely in accord. Could I interest you in a too-small bed that I promise to replace tomorrow?' His bachelor apartment was austere.
'You could interest me in this carpet we're standing on.'
'Ah.' Knowing the particular style of her eagerness, he held out his hand. 'Perhaps we should hurry.'
'And I don't want a baby.' Despite her unguarded passions, a particle of good judgment yet remained.
His hand closed over hers. 'We'll see.'
But elements of their discontent surfaced in the course of the night despite their mutual passions and lust. Alex couldn't forget how Sam had become so proficient at pleasing women. Meanwhile Sam found himself recalling her scheduled meeting with Harry tomorrow much too often for his peace of mind. Spurred by jealousy or bewitchment or rash impulse, Sam found himself forcing the issue of a child late that night when no more than a day ago, the subject alone would have driven him away from any woman so stupid as to mention it.
Alex resisted, a discretionary response that took every ounce of willpower she possessed when Sam was offering her the moon and it took several heated moments more before their emotions were restored to a semblance of calm. But passion ultimately prevailed, or carnal desire, or whatever strange attraction drew them to each other with such intensity and they agreed to agree and made up in each other's arms.
Chapter Twenty-three
When he woke in the morning, she was gone. Considering what a light sleeper he was, he gave her high marks for stealth.
After his initial surprise, his temper flared and he swore in a great number of languages. She hadn't been unhappy with the sex-her screams had been proof of that. And she hadn't taken issue with the number of times she'd climaxed-the bitch. But now that she'd had her night of sex, she could conveniently take affront once again.
It was Friday after all. She had to see her young friend Harry.
The viscount returned to Park Lane and spent the remainder of the morning closeted with Patrick McGuff, going over estate business. The men discussed the crop reports from all his properties. Sam's concentration was so unusual, Patrick said, 'Are you feeling well, sir?' twice before Sam's heated glance cautioned him against further questions concerning his health. Once the crop reports had been perused, the men discussed the new wing that was planned for Sam's primary country house near Cambridge. Meetings were set up for the architect and builder for later in the week, a tentative construction schedule was established, and when Patrick asked whether Sam would be able to attend the commission on the new courthouse proposed for his parish, he shocked his employee by agreeing.
'The aldermen will be pleased, sir. Immensely pleased. They've been hoping to thank you in person for your generous donation to the building fund.'
'It was your idea, Patrick. They should be thanking you.'
'But your generosity made it possible, sir. Many of the nobles aren't so civic-minded.'
'Our parish can use a new courthouse. The old one was falling down. The decision was simple enough. Now, what else do we have on the agenda?'
By this time, the estate manager was beginning to be genuinely concerned. Sam never spent more than an hour at a time in Patrick's office. 'We could look at the reports on the parish schools, sir. There is some question of adding new teachers if the budget allows.'
'Why wouldn't it allow? Show me the figures, Patrick. Let's see that we have enough teachers this year.'
With both apprehension and elation, Patrick pulled the reports down from the shelf. If his lordship was ill, he hoped someone other than he would notice, too, and see that Lord Ranelagh received help.
'Perhaps we should order some food,' Sam suggested, glancing at the clock. 'It's well past luncheon. You must be hungry.'
While Sam was astonishing his estate manager, Alex was at Harry's. And despite Sam's resentful speculation, she hadn't looked forward to the visit.
Harry was too possessive. If she hadn't already been uninterested in men of that ilk, she would have been after the evening with Sam.
But she tried to be courteous; Harry was so ingratiating and pleased to see her, she didn't have the heart to be cruel. He'd cleaned his studio, brought in enough roses to perfume the block, and had cooked a delicious-smelling stew, which was convenient because she'd forgotten to bring anything.
'Are you hungry?'
How did he know, she wondered, her night of sex having left her ravenous. 'I am, just a little,' she said.
'You looked like you were. You kept sniffing the air. It's almost ready. Sit down, take off your jacket, and I'll bring you something to eat. Look at my painting while I open some wine.'
She should say no to the wine, because she didn't want to stay long, but a glass of wine sounded delicious just then, as the food did-as everything did with her senses still activated by the excesses of last night. Damn Ranelagh anyway. It wasn't fair that he was so extraordinarily good in bed. It made it that much more difficult to walk away from the pleasure. With effort, she forced her thoughts away from the previous night and concentrated on the issues at hand. Sitting down, she shrugged out of her jacket and surveyed Harry's seascape of Brighton. She would
