Heaven Sent the Wrong One Read online

  And yet—decorum and social class aside, deep in her bones, everything about that kiss felt ... right.

  Why?

  She was attracted—, drawn to him for some reason. The same inexplicable urge that caused her to shield him from humiliation; to take care of him—on instinct.

  Alexandra exhaled a long breath. God must have heard and granted her prayer—but she probably was not specific enough. Andrew was everything she could have ever wanted, but his position in life rendered him an unsuitable match.

  With a sigh of disappointment, she watched a family of ducks troop into the water and swim in a straight line. Andrew was a man she should not be trifling with. He was dangerous—she knew that. He affected her too much.

  She must be cautious instead of spontaneous. If she lost her head, things could rapidly become complicated. And, if she wasn't careful, chances were—she could lose her heart.

  Alexandra disentangled herself from that line of thinking. She took out the book she'd slipped in the basket to distract herself and read as she munched on her lunch. Afterwards, she drank the jug of lemon water, shook out the crumbs from her skirts, and returned to her reading.

  A few chapters later, however, the gentle rustling of the leaves on the trees and the serenity of her surroundings began to lull her into drowsiness. She set her book face-down next to her, yawning and stretching, as her lids gradually got heavier. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she removed her bonnet, kicked off her shoes, rested her feet on the low table, and leaned back to take a nap.

  ~

  Allayne found the gazebo by the water after wandering the garden looking for a place to catch up on his reading. Finally—a nice, quiet little place for himself where he could enjoy his book on European Art without being interrupted by his mother's constant carping about his unmarried state.

  He walked through the archway of roses leading to the structure, followed the winding path, climbed up the short steps, and paused.

  Miss Banana had beaten him to his ideal retreat. At the moment, she was soundly asleep with her dainty feet up, exposing her shapely, stockinged ankles and a few inches of slim calves. Strands of chestnut hair had escaped from her neat bun and flailed on her cheeks from the gentle breeze. Her full, pink lips were slightly parted, inviting him to repeat yesterday's deed that he had spent half the night fantasizing about.

  The instant desire to sit next to her, pick her up and cradle her on his lap, hit Allayne between the eyes. He wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, press her breasts to his chest, and softly caress her long slender legs.

  Most of all, he yearned to taste her lips again, kiss her—over and over—until she awakened.

  He stood there for another minute, gazing at her, before he forced himself to redirect his thoughts elsewhere.

  Truly, he shouldn't—mustn't—obsess on her so. He must keep in mind that she was an innocent—a maid. He might be accused of being an unsavory sot, but he wasn't a debaucher of virgins—especially ones unsuitable to have the protection of his name. A moderate flirtation would be safer and should be sufficient to amuse him for the remainder of the fortnight—nothing more.

  Allayne sat on the other end of the bench, propped his booted feet up next to hers and opened his book.

  ~

  Alexandra woke up to the scent of cedar, sage, and mint, alerting her senses to the presence of a particular male.

  She opened her lids to find herself staring into curly-lashed green eyes that could easily be mistaken for a woman's—except she knew they belonged to the most virile man, she had ever encountered.

  "Hullo," he said in that deep masculine voice that warmed her allover.

  "Andrew?" She sat up, flustered, hoping the heat in her cheeks had not caused any redness. "What are you doing here?" She hastily shoved her feet in her shoes and brushed her hair off her face.

  "I was reading," he raised the book in his hand.

  "Reading?" Her gaze followed the leather-bound volume he held.

  "Yes. And you were sleeping."

  That said, Alexandra conjured an image of herself, snoring with her mouth wide open and God forbid—drooling. "You shouldn't be here," she frowned, cringing at the abominable thought of him watching her while she slept.

  "Why not? It's a good spot to read and there's plenty of space to sit," he gestured at the bench they shared.

  Why not, indeed? Alexandra could find no argument in that, other than the dread of not knowing if she had spoken in her sleep. Her dream about the banana-wielding pirate rescuing her from the sinking ship had been too real, and when he kissed her—my, how he kissed her—she felt exactly the way she felt when Andrew did.

  "You were moaning in your sleep," he said with what she could surmise as a suppressed grin.

  "I was?" she replied in mortification. Lord, what other farcical things could she have been doing?

  "U-hum," he set his book on his lap and chuckled.

  "What?" She had the feeling that he knew something she didn't.

  He cleared his throat, visibly stifling his mirth. "You were wagging your tongue."

  "What?" Her chagrin escalated.

  "You were wagging—"

  "I heard you," she snapped, cheeks flaming. Lord—she could just imagine how she looked like—and what he was thinking!

  He nonchalantly turned a page, eyes fixed on his book. "And you grabbed me."

  "I—why would I do that?" she nearly yelled.

  He shrugged. "You wanted to kiss me," he said without interest and kept on reading.

  "No," she abruptly stood up and faced him indignantly.

  "U-hum," he turned another page.

  Alexandra gaped at his honey-blond head. Could she have done all that in her short slumber and unknowingly embarrassed herself?

  Never!

  "And what did you do?" She narrowed her eyes at him, increasingly suspicious of his tale.

  "Hmm?" He looked up, all innocence.

  "You said I grabbed you and kissed you—and then what?” Her hackles went up, determined to get even.

  "Nothing," he raised his shoulders and returned his attention to his book, as if their conversation bored him.

  "You're lying," she planted her hands on her hips.

  "Am not," he flipped to the next page.

  "Yes, you are," she pointed an accusing finger at him.

  He let out an exaggerated sigh as he scanned the illustrations on the page he was reading. "I kissed you back—does that make you feel any better?"

  "You kissed me—"

  "Yes," he cut in, tracing his finger along the writing beneath a picture, "in fact, you rather enjoyed it—just like yesterday."

  "What?" Alexandra stared at him in shock—the odious, conceited, impertinent man!

  "U-hum," he said without taking his eyes off his book.

  "Now look here, Mister Huntington—"

  "Andrew."

  "Mister Huntington," she emphasized in vexation. "Just because you're handsome and you have those—those—"

  "Dimples," he looked up and smiled at her, displaying said assets to his advantage.

  "Green eyes," she compelled herself to say instead, tearing her gaze away from the kissable indentations on his cheeks.

  "Thank you," he preened, "glad you noticed."

  “What?” Alexandra brows shot upwards. She did not mean to compliment him—and add more air to his over-inflated ego.

  "Glad you noticed my looks and the color of my eyes—I'm flattered," he said with irritating smugness and winked.

  "That wasn't what I meant at all," she stomped her foot in frustration. The arrogant scoundrel actually had the nerve to assume she was impressed with his looks—which she was—but that was beside the point—and he winked at her! As if—, as if—she was some common trollop clamoring for a tumble in his bed!

  He set his book aside and stood up. "Just because I'm attractive, it doesn't mean I can go around kissing women," he drawled, as he moved closer to her. "Was that what
you meant to say?"

  "Exactly," Alexandra glared at him. Praise and glory be—the cad had finally seen the light.

  "Good," he took another step, advancing lazily towards her with an intent Alexandra could only guess.

  She gulped. Oh dear. Insulting him was probably not a good idea. "T-then we understand each other," she tried to quell the drumming in her chest and the butterflies in her belly.

  "U-hum," he advanced some more, his eyes riveted on her.

  She retreated a step for every step he took that brought him nearer.

  Her back touched the railing of the gazebo.

  He stopped within an inch of her and clamped both hands on the railing on either side of her, keeping her in place.

  Alexandra's skin prickled at his proximity. He exuded pure maleness—towering over her in spite of her tallness, blocking her view with the width of his shoulders, completely obscuring her body with his.

  "Mister Huntington—"

  "Andrew." He leaned forward, his gaze sliding down to her lips.

  "P-please—"

  "My pleasure," he pressed his mouth onto hers, deliberately misunderstanding her plea to let her go, to begging him for a kiss.

  Her protests evaporated into thin air. Her brain could only register the softness of his lips, his woodsy, male scent and the heat of his hard chest rubbing against the sensitive peaks of her breasts.

  She could push him away—now—but she didn't want to—couldn't bring herself to.

  "I don’t go around kissing women," he whispered, as he pulled slightly away to plant tiny kisses along the outline of her lips. "I want only you," he looked into her eyes, before he tilted her chin and angled his head to deliver a deeper, more demanding kiss.

  Alexandra knew, as she floated into a dreamland where only the two of them existed—that with just one kiss, he could erode her sensibilities, her resolve, and her restraint. No matter the danger, she couldn't keep her fingers from the fire—couldn't resist the temptation of momentary bliss in his arms.

  If this powerful attraction—or whatever it was between them, kept seducing them to end up this way every time they meet—then she could definitely get carried away, lose her head and enmesh herself in something utterly convoluted.

  Could she manage it for the fortnight? Would she be strong enough to extricate herself when it's time to say goodbye?

  Can you keep your heart out of it? The little voice in her head interjected.

  Andrew gathered her in his embrace—tenderly, almost lovingly, —without breaking their kiss.

  Yes. The word resonated in Alexandra's thoughts. She should—she must. It would be her only protection—the very armor that would remind her that she could not be a heroine forever.

  After all—every fairy tale must end.

  Chapter 8

  Sweet Freedom

  Allayne Carlyle woke up refreshed in spite of the restless night he had spent tossing and turning in his bed.

  He could not stop thinking about Anna and the kiss they shared in the gazebo. She had shyly pulled away before anything more intimate could transpire between them, avoiding his eyes as she made her excuses to return to the house. Her haste to retreat barely enabled him to invite her to the fair in town, an amusing diversion Andy had mentioned the countess planned to take her guests today. But to his amazement, she paused on her way down the short steps and agreed to accompany him—which fueled his hopes that the attraction between them was mutual, despite her efforts to control it.

  "Will you be sharing a coach with the other guests?" He frowned at his fine clothes as Andy finished dressing him. The local tailor's visit had been moved to the following day due to his trip to the fair with Anna today.

  "No, Sir," Andy flushed and buttoned the cuffs on his sleeves. "The countess insisted that Lady Alexandra and I use her barouche."

  "I see," Allayne hid his amusement. The countess certainly was determined to enforce his mother's wishes and encourage the match.

  Andy appeared embarrassed with the situation and pretended to fuss on his jacket.

  "I will need my carriage today." Allayne shook his shoulders and adjusted his collar. "Pray tell anyone who might care to ask that you lent it to me to run some errands in town."

  "Yes, Sir." Andy cleared his throat. "Will you be at the fair?"

  "Yes." Allayne inserted a forefinger between his neck and cravat, tugging it for a more comfortable fit.

  "By yourself, Sir?" Andy blanched at the look of censure his master pinned at him on the mirror, but hastily added, "Please don't take offense, Sir. I simply wish to be prepared with an explanation to the others if we encounter you there by chance."

  "I will be accompanying Lady Alexandra's maid," Allayne replied casually, with no further elaboration.

  "Ah." Andy nodded with a knowing smile.

  A half hour later, Allayne sat across from Anna in the luxurious interiors of his crested carriage on their way to the fair. She had been startled to see the gleaming black conveyance awaiting them on the driveway, but he mentioned the generosity of his employer for letting them use it for the day. She said a word of praise for Mr. Carlyle's kindness and allowed him to hand her inside.

  In the privacy of the intimate space however, Allayne felt a little irritated with himself. The effect of seeing her dressed differently, with her lustrous chestnut hair piled in an artful coiffeur on top of her head and curls cascading to frame her face, stunned him to the core. She looked like a lady—a very lovely one at that.

  His reaction to the sudden change made him momentarily lose his bearings. He acted like a giddy schoolboy, unable to pry his eyes away from her. If he did not start a conversation this very minute, she would undoubtedly wonder why he was staring.

  "You look beautiful," he gazed appreciatively at her dress, the fineness of which did not escape his notice. Today, she had foregone her usual dull, ill-fitting brown and gray attire, in favor of a cream-colored day gown with miniature embroidered roses. The pastel color brought out the healthy glow of her fair skin, rendering it in stark contrast with her full red lips, dark hair, and eyes. The result was simply dramatic.

  He wondered how she could have afforded a costly outfit, but he brushed the thought aside—the matter was of no import to him.

  "Thank you," she blushed, and then returned his regard with a sweep of her eyes at his charcoal jacket over a pale blue waistcoat, dove gray breeches and gleaming Hessians. "You look quite dashing yourself."

  Allayne could almost sense that she was thinking along the same lines. How could he have the funds to dress as such on a valet's income? Nonetheless, she seemed to dismiss the notion as none of her concern and peered out the window as the carriage approached the heart of the city.

  The fair was already in full swing when they arrived. They alighted from the carriage in front of the brightly decorated entryway adorned with a large "Welcome" sign to the square. Beyond it, a number of colorful tents sheltered vendors selling food, flavored ices, and a variety of wares. Circus performers demonstrated their skills on the streets, attracting crowds of jovial men, women, and children. Several booths offered games for a fee and a prize to the lucky winner.

  ~

  Alexandra could not help her excitement. Her father never allowed her to go to these events where commoners mixed with their betters. He only permitted her to attend balls and soirees in exalted company, which after a while became too tiresome and repetitive to rouse her interest.

  "Ready?" Andrew caught her hand in his and twined his fingers with hers.

  "Yes," Alexandra nodded and subdued her surprise at the contact. The day was warm and both of them chose not to wear gloves.

  He led her through the entrance, his grip tightening as they joined the throng of people entering the fair. His palm felt unexpectedly soft and smooth to the touch, not at all marred by calluses derived from labor. Its warmth radiated into her skin like a lover's caress, bringing color to her cheeks.

  She stole a quick glance at th
eir joined hands. His fingers were long and elegant; his nails buffed and impeccably maintained. An impression occurred to her: he has the hands of an aristocrat.

  Alexandra tilted her head and discreetly peeked at him from beneath her lashes. She had never studied him from this position, with her walking next to him. His profile was strong and angular, she noted with interest, boasting a narrow, straight nose, high cheekbones, well-defined lips, a square chin, and chiseled jaw. The overly long layers of thick honey-colored hair extended over his shoulders, emphasizing the sculpted outline of his features.

  "Happy?" His mouth curved upwards at the corners as he thoughtfully gazed down at her.

  Alexandra's chest constricted.

  God certainly took his time and put a lot of thought in forming Andrew. He balanced the hardness of his countenance that suggested an underlying devilishness about the man, with the angelic softness of curly-lashed green eyes and endearing deep round dimples on either cheek.

  "Very," she found herself saying—and she did feel deliriously, incredibly happy. The fair may have influenced her mood, but she suspected it was only secondary to the strikingly handsome man holding her hand.

  "Good." He brought their joined hands to his lips and planted a kiss on her wrist.

  The simple gesture caught her off guard and took her breath away.

  "My lord," a flower seller beckoned as they neared her cart. "Roses for your beautiful wife."

  Alexandra blushed at the reference. She could not blame the girl for assuming her escort was her husband and a lord. Judging from the possessive way he interlaced his fingers with hers and planted that affectionate kiss on her wrist—anyone could have made the same mistake. In addition, his confident stance and manner of dressing could make anyone easily conclude that he was of rank and privilege— something so patent in him that intrigued her, since the first time she saw him.

  Andrew paused in front of the cart brimming with an array of colorful blooms. "I'll take this one," he pulled a white rose from a cone and paid. "Can you please cut the stem to here," he indicated the portion, "and remove the thorns?"