Protection

Chapter Twenty Three

Claudia's company was crude in comparison to Alayna's genteel behavior.

Her red hair was splayed over her shoulders, and she laughed. Really, Claudia was a beautiful woman, and she might have made a fine lady if she had married her merchant twice removed cousin. Instead, she had turned to a life of "glamour and glitter."

    Alex held his head down, and thought. What had he done? Alayna could not possibly love Sterling. She couldn't. She barely knew him.

   But love was blind, wasn't it?

He wondered and thought of everything. He thought of every hateful thing he had ever said to her. About the way France had treated her. About her Adrien.

   And he thought about her face when the brick broke through. He thought about how she had told him everything about France that night. How he knew she was holding something back.

    Then he began to think. A report of an assassinated Revolutionary in France causing uproar.

And the emblem on the brick? Her family crest.

But where had he seen it? Where! He knew he had seen it. On a cape? A letter? A carriage emblem? There was a dark feeling over Alex. He felt something dangerous was about to happen. And Alayna was in the middle of it.

"Claudia."

He knew he had drug her through his hell- he had wept to her about Julia. He hated Claudia and he loved Claudia. He knew he was responsible for his own actions, when Julia died. But he also knew that Claudia got the best of him and his often feeble male mind.

  The glitter in her eyes faded. She met his glance, and, opened her mouth to say something. But she slammed it closed and looked away.

   "Go, Alex." It was all she said.

"Claudia, you know-"

"You love her."

And for once, he did not argue.

Sterling was perfect- he was perfect.

He had a handsome face. His sculpted features and blonde hair reminded her of Adonis. But he had such respect for her.

  Alayna supposed that was why she was surprised at him- and herself- when she realized he was kissing her. Against a wall. In the dark. His hand rested somewhere only Adrien had dared to go.

She did not understand. He was wonderful- he was smart. He cared for her. He gave her whatever she wanted. And he got more than 70,000 pounds a year. He was more than she ever could have dreamed of.

   But he did not make her heart thump fast. He didn't lift her feet off the ground- and why didn't he send her mind reeling mystically across the starry universe, the way Alex did?

   Oh, heavens, Alex. She closed her eyes, feeling Sterling breath and felt his exhales mingling with hers. And she despised it. His kiss, though pleasurable, she was sure to anyone else, was disgusting to her. She could not stand it.

   He pressed closer and there was genuine desire flowing through his veins- she felt his heart thundering and thundering and pushing blood.

    But she didn't want to be there. She wanted to go home. Home.

 And home was with Alex. She didn't know why, and she didn't know how she felt like that- especially after the way he treated her. The things he said to her were absolutely atrocious.

  His utter disregard of her feelings towards France was the top of it. Why she had feelings for him, Alayna didn't know. But somehow, someway, she did.

 Sadly, she thought, as Sterling's hands wandered farther, among those somehows, and those someways- there was not a someday. Never.

   Her only hope of a happy ending was Sterling. If she could learn to love him, then being Mrs. Sterling Thompson would be all the better.

  Sterling and his willingness to take her away would be the end of her anxiety. Yes, she thought, it would be.

   Suddenly, the euphoric temptation of safety took over her. It was maddeningly delicious. It flowed through her limbs the way hot, thick chocolate slid down one's throat.

  It was not want that beckoned her to kiss Sterling back, though she did. She took his face between her hands, and pressed him even closer to her. She kissed him and kissed him and felt as though it was a celebration- finally, she would be safe and she would have somewhere to lay her head.

   And thank God, someone to share her troubles.

His hands slid down, and he squished her hips close. He was roaringly man- she recognized that violent, tempestuous passion. She had tasted it once for herself.

    But he broke away.

There was murder in his eyes.

"I- Alay-"

He did not speak. But he swooped her up at once, crushing her in his arms. He frightened her, and she felt her limbs begin to tremble. She wanted to fight, but was not sure if she should.What if he-? What was he expecting?

   No. She was not weak.

It came all at once. The strength. And the thought as he carried her, "I'm not weak. I'm not that little girl who does exactly what her mother says."

She flailed about, as violently as she could. Because she was fearless.

And being fearless didn't mean she harbored no terror- on the contrare, she did- but she was taking a leap even though she was mad with fear.