The Scandals of an Innocent...
From Chapter 1
Alice scrambled up, lost her
footing on the slippery folds of material and fell to her knees. The man was
quicker. His arms went about her, scooping her up and then holding her fast
against him, so that all her kicking and pummelling was quite in vain. His
grip was too tight to break, as taut as steel bands about her waist and
back. Her struggles were embarrassingly puny against such quiet, almost
casual, strength.
“Hold still, urchin,” he
said. His voice was mellow and deep, and he sounded carelessly amused, but
there was nothing careless in the way that he held her. Alice could tell she
was not going to be able to break his grip. She also sensed by instinct that
this was no drunken lord returning home after a night’s entertainment at the
Morris Clown Inn. There was something too powerful and purposeful about him
– something too dangerous to dismiss easily.
She was in deep trouble.
Fear clawed at her chest as
she frantically tried to think of a way to escape him. Her whole body was
shaking with fear and panic and a desperate need to flee. She stopped
struggling and went limp in his arms in an attempt to trick him into
loosening his grip, but he was evidently too old a hand to fall for the
ruse, for he simply laughed.
“So docile all of a sudden?
Listen, boy-” He stopped.
Held so close to him Alice
could feel the hard muscles of his body tense against her own and she
recognised the precise moment that he realised, despite the evidence of her
attire, that she was not a boy at all.
“Well, well…” The amusement
was still in his voice but it had a different quality to it now. He shifted,
his chest unyielding against the betraying softness of her breasts, his hand
moving intimately over the curve of her bottom where the rip in her britches
exposed rather more bare skin than she would have wanted. His grip on her
slackened, not much, but enough for Alice to wrench herself from his arms
and turn to run.
It was the treacherous
wedding dress that foiled her again. Wrapping itself about her ankles it
tripped her so that she staggered and almost fell. The man caught her arm in
a savage grip, wrenching her around so that her back was against the rough
brick wall of the alley. Alice gasped as the pain jolted through her, and
gasped again as he deliberately brought his body into closer contact with
hers, holding her pinned against the wall with his hips, his hands braced on
either side of her head. She was trapped, caged. A long shiver went down her
spine that was neither fear nor cold.
The man took her chin in
his hand and turned her towards the pale light of the lantern. His face was
only inches away from hers, the harsh lines and planes shadowed in the
darkness. She could feel the beat of his heart against her breast; feel his
breath against her skin and the press of his lower body, lean and hard,
against hers. It filled her with a strange, unfamiliar kind of ache and a
weakness she did not much care for. Alice hated to feel out of control. She
had never experienced such waywardness from her body before.
The man pushed the hat
roughly back from her brow and her hair escaped its confinement and fell
down about her shoulders. He brushed the tangles away from her face. Then
his fingers stilled. She felt the shock rip through his body.
“Miss Lister?” There
was flat disbelief in his tone.
Oh dear. So much for her
desperate hope that whoever he was, he would not be able to identify her.
And she recognised him too. Miles Vickery. She knew his voice now. She had
loved his voice. It was so smooth and mellow Alice had sometimes
thought that he could have seduced her with his words alone. He almost had.
She had been such a fool to
believe even for a moment that his attentions to her had been sincere…
Even as her treacherous body
responded to the touch of his hand against her cheek, the knife twisted
within her as she remembered that she did not like Miles Vickery very much
at all. In fact, she absolutely detested him.
Nevertheless, they stood
staring at one another for what felt like a very long moment whilst Alice’s
heart beat in her throat and the heat washed through her body and left her
trembling. She could not move. She could not even tear her gaze from his.
She was captured in the moment and the fierce, intent look in his eyes and
in the strange, aching demand of her body where it touched his.
Then a carriage rumbled across
the cobbled road at the end of the passageway and the sudden noise made them
both jump. Alice took advantage of the moment to raise her elbow in a sharp
and persuasive jab into Miles’s ribs and as he doubled up in pain she ducked
away and ran, leaving him standing staring after her, the wedding dress
still in his hand,
