"You already discovered my secret at the bookstore," Alice smiled sweetly.

"One of your many secrets," Ralph conceded, looking at her face and Alice had the impression that he had the power to strip her naked with that gaze. He could break all the walls she'd built around herself to protect her heart with that one devastating look.

"Ralph..." she pleaded, silently begging him to let it be. She couldn't tell him, he'd think her a fallen woman. Or worse, he'd think her foolish and if there was one man in front of whom Alice wanted to appear intelligent, it was Ralph.

He sighed, recognising her hesitation.

"Thank you," she whispered, overwhelmed by how understanding he was.

"Some more wine?" He asked solicitously.

"Yes," she smiled, grateful for the distraction. Some memories were too painful and humiliating to relive and the wine would help her forget, if only for a few blessed hours.

After they'd risen, both Alice and Ralph were in good spirits, the wine making them forget their circumstances.

"Are you cold?" Ralph asked, squatting before the fireplace to add more wood to the dying fire.

She shook her head. She was quite warm. But if it was because of the fire or being alone with a handsome man, she didn't know.

"Shall we retire then?" he asked, standing up and looking at her expectantly.

She nodded, feeling like an idiot. Why wasn't she speaking?

"What about the sleeping arrangements?" she cleared her throat delicately.

"You can sleep on the bed and I'll sleep on the floor," he shrugged.

"You can't sleep on the floor!"

"Why not? I've done it before."

"But you'll be sleeping down because of me," she said, distressed. The picture of Ralph sleeping on the hard, dusty floor made her feel wretched.

"What do you propose then? For me to sleep on the cot next to you?" He laughed sarcastically.

Alice said nothing, too embarrassed to say that she had indeed been thinking that.

"You can't be serious," he whispered, his mouth falling open.

"You said you wouldn't take advantage of me, so what difference does it make?" It was her turn to shrug.

"Yes, but it isn't proper."

"Us staying alone in a cottage isn't proper either," she pointed out.

"Please," she added when he didn't reply, battling with himself.

"Fine," he huffed, looking confused. Alice understood, she was confused too. How was she suddenly so bold?

"Now unbutton my gown, please," she said, turning to present her back to him.

Had she completely lost her mind, she thought, giggling noiselessly at how shocked he must be for he was silent, his harsh breathing audible in the quiet room.

"You don't expect me to sleep in this uncomfortable gown, do you?" she taunted, turning her head to look at his dumbfounded face.

"The wine has certainly made you bold," he chuckled, snapping out of his daze.

"And it has made you more malleable," she grinned as he moved forward to do her bidding.

He fell silent again and so did she. Because then he set his hands to her back, undoing her gown in quick, efficient movements. He didn't linger, he didn't pause, there was nothing seductive about the way he was stripping her and yet Alice could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her blood racing through her veins.

She heard his breathing grow louder when he was done for she wore no corset.

But he made no move to touch her after that. She was about to turn and face him, disappointed for some unfathomable reason. But she stopped when she felt his hands in her hair. He began to pull at her pins, making her hair tumble down slowly. She thought she heard him suck in a breath when she finally turned around.

Ralph knew he was dead. For such beauty couldn't possibly exist on this damned planet, he thought, drinking her in. She was vision, her flaming hair softening her face, her crimson lips practically begging to be kissed. But what captivated him most were her eyes, the way she looked him. He could read the desire in her green eyes, he was positive that his eyes reflected the same.

And then she began to pull at her loosened gown. Good god, she was drunk as a skunk. Had she really had that much?

"Have you ever had wine before today?" he asked, turning away from the tempting

woman who was undressing herself.

"No," she giggled.

What?!

He searched his memory, trying to recollect the image of Alice with a glass in her hand and he found no such thing.

"I don't like the thought of forgetting myself," she said, trying to explain.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He groaned and finally turned around again to find her standing there in her chemise.

He internally muttered a thousand expletives.

She stood proud, her small hands fisted at her sides, her chin up. She was as alluring as Aphrodite, confident of her beauty, not frightened of her sexuality. A woman so brave that she was as dangerous as she was desirable. A woman who could conquer the world, who had nothing to lose. A woman he could easily fall in love with.

"Alice..." he said hoarsely, not knowing what to say. She looked simply delicious and he would gladly devour her.

She came to him, rising on her toes and putting her hands around his neck, pressing her pliant body against his as she dragged his head down for a mind numbing kiss.

He didn't even try to resist, knowing it was pointless. He put his hands on her bottom, pulling her to him more firmly.

This is where my hands belong, he thought heatedly.

The only thing that kept her from him was that thin fabric of her chemise. He would give anything to tear it off her.

After torturing him for a while, she pulled back and looked at his face, as if waiting for him to say something. But he couldn't find his tongue.

"Shall we retire then?" she smiled shakily, pulling his hand and leading him to the bed.

She lay down and looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't follow her down. He merely stood there, looking at her.

Did she want him to ruin her? Because that was inevitable should he join her on that bed. He wouldn't be able to stop himself and her eyes told him that she wouldn't want him to.

"I need to go for a walk," he murmured and turned to leave. But not before he saw the light in her eyes dim.

Alice turned away, burrowing in the bed, fighting the tears as the door shut behind her. But they came anyway, the tears. She wanted to smack herself for crying for that idiotic man, for offering herself so shamelessly. And she wanted to smack him for rejecting her.

I'll never cry again, she said to herself again, knowing she was lying his time. Something told her that she wouldn't be able to forget this man, hate this man. He was too good to deserve her hatred.

She'd somehow managed to make herself look fallen and foolish at the same time.

Alice slept then, her heart heavy with the pain of rejection.