Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

She raised her face, willingly pressing herself against him, closing out his hateful words. He gazed down at her and smiled, lightly stroking her back and tangling his fingers in her thick hair. He was all that was gentle and tender when he kissed her. He nuzzled her throat, bending her over his arm to thrust her breasts up to him. She squirmed against him when he brushed his lips over her nipples, and suckled them as did Nicholas. She nearly cried out from the pleasure of it. He eased her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. In another moment he was standing naked beside her, staring down at her.

“Alex,” she whispered, and stretched out her arms to him.

Again he smiled. He lay next to her, his fingers following his eyes as they roved over her body. “There are no marks on your belly,” he said, gently kneading her. She wanted him to kiss her, but he kept his eyes upon her face, studying her.

“How fortunate,” he said after a moment, when he felt her hips move against his fingers. “You could still become a whore if you wished.”

“Please, Alex, don’t. Please, stop.”

He knew what she meant, but he rose and moved away from her.

“You asked me to stop? Very well, Giana.” He turned his back to her and quickly pulled on his trousers.

She was lying on her back, her legs slightly parted, her eyes wide on his face. “Please don’t leave me.”

He laughed unpleasantly. “Bring yourself to pleasure, Giana. You can do everything else for yourself. You don’t need me.”

He heard her sobbing as he tugged on the rest of his clothes. He found he had prodded the buttons of his shirt into the wrong holes, and cursed. Despite himself, his eyes went to the bed. She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest, her hair fanned out about her. He pulled the door open, gritted his teeth, and left her. He strode to the nursery down the hall, where he found Clare sewing beside Nicholas’ crib.

“Leave us, Clare.”

Alex lifted his sleeping son out of his crib, sat down, and cradled him in his arms. Jesus, what had he done? Perhaps too much, perhaps not enough. Would he lose his son because of his refusal to accept what she offered? He traced the tip of his finger lightly over his son’s plump cheek, then touched his pink lips. Nicholas began making smacking noises in his sleep, and his small mouth opened to suck his father’s finger. Alex felt a shaft of pain. His eyes did not leave his son’s face even when he heard a swish of skirts behind him.

“I told you to leave us, Clare,” he said, not looking up.

“It is not Clare, Alex.”

He raised weary eyes to Giana’s face. She was pale, her eyes puffy from her tears. He said, “You win, Giana. You can stay, if you like, and we will continue as we have.”

Giana fell to her knees beside his chair, her crinoline skirt fanning out about her. “I don’t want things to continue as they have,” she said quietly, looking briefly at her son’s face before she gazed up at Alex. “I cannot bear it.”

“I see,” he said. Alex rose from the chair, careful not to disturb his son, and laid him gently into his crib. He turned back and took Giana’s hands in his. “You know I never wanted to love you,” he said. “But it appears I can do nothing about it.”

“Would you marry me, Alex?”

He stood very still, his hand tightening about hers.

“I know that I would give my life for you. Since that is true, it seems rather ridiculous of me not to trust you with mine. Please marry me, Alex. I will try very hard to make you happy with me.”

“Make me reconciled to my fate?”

“Yes, if fate it is.”

He was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought. He said finally, his voice carefully neutral, “Since it has been my fate to know you, you have managed to turn my world upside down and backwards. Just this morning, I found a gray hair in my head. To spend the rest of my miserable life with you is a daunting thought. You will argue with me endlessly, I’m certain, and doubtless you will never be brought to heel.”

“Brought to heel. Let me see this gray hair, Alex. I don’t believe you.” She tugged at his head to bring him to her, but he clasped her wrists in his hands and held them against his chest.

“I’ll wager you will even refuse to embroider new chair covers for my library.”

She leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his hands as they held hers so closely. “Please do not tease me, Alex, until you consent to marry me. I’m frightened.”

“You changed your gown,” he said.

“You may rip it if you like.”

“Only if I agree to marry you.”

Anna Carruthers suddenly appeared in the nursery doorway. She gazed at the embracing couple, and smiled.