The Importance of Being Alice Page 16

  “What pipe?” Gunner asked Elliott. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

  “I believe it’s an American colloquialism,” Elliott told his brother. “I seem to recall reading it somewhere.”

  “So you admit that you’ve shacked up with him!” Patrick pointed dramatically at Elliott.

  “I had no choice since you gave your ticket to him!” Alice snapped. “How dare you come here and act all butt-hurt.”

  Gunner pursed his lips. “Erm . . .”

  “Yes, that’s another colloquialism,” Elliott said.

  “I really must spend more time in the States. Evidently I’m missing quite a lot.”

  “I am simply pointing out that you took no time at all before you started sleeping with my friend,” Patrick argued. “So much for being brokenhearted, as you insisted you were t’anyone who bothered t’read your Facebook page.”

  “I don’t see that the matter is anything to do with you, Patrick,” Elliott interjected in what he deemed his argument-soothing tone. “You broke up with Alice. That act in and by itself negates any further say in her romantic choices.”

  “Yeah,” Alice said, taking Elliott’s arm. She shook her head, then said, “I can’t believe you flew all the way around the world to be jealous.”

  “I didn’t, as it happened. There was a trade show I had t’attend in Paris.” His gaze shifted from Alice to Elliott. “I left your sister there. She was shopping. I’m sure you will enjoy the bill that follows.”

  Elliott swore under his breath.

  “So what are you doing here, then?” Gunner asked.

  “Gunner. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” Patrick looked him up and down. “I could ask you the same.”

  “No, no, we’re talking about you, not him,” Alice said, then suddenly shook her head. “What am I saying? No, we’re not talking about you. You know why? Because I’m through with the conversation, just like I’m through with you, Patrick. You dumped me, and I’ve moved on. I’m not going to spend my life pining for you, and if you say one word about Elliott and me being together, then I’ll punch you in the nose.”

  “I think it’s important also to point out that Patrick has done exactly what he has accused you of,” Elliott said with aplomb. “Since he just admitted that he went to Paris with my sister Jane.”

  Alice looked even more incensed. Elliott enjoyed that greatly.

  “You bastard!” she said, smacking Patrick on the arm. “You dumped me for Elliott’s sister?”

  “Jane? Really?” Gunner eyed Patrick. “Interesting.”

  “So why are you here, then?” Alice asked, then immediately took Elliott’s arm again. “Never mind. I said I was through with the conversation, and I am. Come on, Elliott. Let’s go to the sword place, and you can show me how to sword fight.”

  Elliott was unable to keep from throwing a slightly triumphant glance at the sputtering Patrick as Alice sailed past him, but that moment faded quickly when Patrick said, “Sword fighting?”

  “OK, why did Patrick say the word ‘sword fighting’ like that?” Alice asked him as they hurried up the hill, Gunner right on their heels. “Like it meant something to him?”

  Elliott sighed. “Patrick attended the same fencing classes I did.”

  “Crap. I should have known he would do something like that. He always did admire old film actors who could do all the Errol Flynn stuff. Is he following us?”

  “Yes,” Patrick answered, and, shoving Gunner aside, took up a position on Alice’s far side. “This isn’t over, Ainslie.”

  Alice snorted and said something derisive under her breath that Patrick obviously pretended not to hear.

  “You’re wasting your time, but so long as you don’t bother Alice, then I can’t stop you from doing that,” Elliott told him. Alice gave him a look of approval that had warmth spreading inside him. He loved it when she looked at him like that, just as if he’d done something heroic. She made him feel like he really could do anything.

  He regretted that feeling some three hours later when, after a tour of the sword-making factory, a visit to the attached fencing school, and Alice’s hour-long lesson (during which a form of peace had been achieved by Patrick sitting in the spectators’ area texting and making phone calls, while Gunner and Elliott watched Alice and the other pupils in the center floor), Patrick put Elliott’s newfound heroism to the test.

  “You need t’put your money where your mouth is,” Patrick said loudly when Elliott was adjusting Alice’s grip on her training foil.

  They both looked up. Patrick strode across the floor, a pair of sabers in his hands.

  Elliott sighed. “You can’t possibly be about to do what I think you’re about to do.”

  “I can’t?” Patrick tossed one of the sabers toward Elliott, hilt-first.

  Elliott deftly caught it and spun it in a manner that used to make his fencing master smack him on the head. “Just watch me.”

  “Whereas I don’t have anything to prove.” Elliott placed the saber on a nearby table. The practice room was empty of students now, it being the designated lunch period, which meant that Elliott could speak his mind without outside witnesses. “What the hell is the matter with you, Patrick? This jealousy doesn’t make any sense. You told me yourself not ten days ago that you were through with Alice, and were assumedly defiling my sister at will. Alice has stated numerous times, both to you and to me, that she has no further interest in you. And yet, here you are, apparently playing the role of the jealous scorned lover. Why? Why are you here, and why are you doing this?”

  To his astonishment, Patrick seemed to deflate in front of them. His antagonistic expression quickly faded to one that was more embarrassed than anything else. “I . . . ah, t’hell with it. I don’t know why I’m here, t’be perfectly honest. I was quite happy with Jane in Paris. She’s got one hell of a sex drive on her—and then a friend of mine sent me a screenshot of Alice’s post with you lying naked in bed with naught but a fancy hat covering your cock, and a red wave seemed t’wash over me right then and there. Next thing I knew, I was on the plane t’Germany with murder in me heart.” He waggled the saber. “I’d be the first t’admit that it makes no sense at all.”

  Elliott turned his eyes to Alice. She looked horrified. “Oh man, I thought I took that down fast enough. Sorry, Elliott.”

  He took a deep breath, reminded himself that getting angry would serve no purpose, and simply said to Patrick, “At least you’ve admitted that you have no business being here.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Patrick said with his trademark roguish wink to Alice. “There is a fair lady t’be won back, after all.”

  “What part of I don’t want you anymore are you having trouble understanding?” Alice asked, looking delightfully put out. “Because as I see it, you’re just making an ass of yourself, and ruining what was going to be a very nice time with Elliott and Gunner, although admittedly Gunner was an unexpected addition to today’s activities.”

  “That is my fault,” Elliott told her. “It simply slipped my mind to mention to you that my brother would be joining us.”

  “I’m waiting for the Bulgarian government to clear out of a factory,” Gunner told Patrick.

  “If he can be here, then so can I,” Patrick said, and picked up his saber. “Besides, you fell for me once, you can do it again. I intend on giving Elliott a run for his money.”

  “We’re on a cruise,” Alice pointed out. “Even if I did want your attentions—and I don’t—there’s no room on the ship for you, and you can’t very well follow us from town to town.”

  “Sure I can.” He waved the saber at Elliott again. “And I’d like t’start winning Alice back with a round of fencing. You up t’it, Elliott? Or are you afraid that Alice’s affections will waver once she sees how badly you’re beaten?”

  “As if I care,” Alice said, tur
ning to Elliott. “We can go have some lunch if you like. I’m done here.”

  He looked at her for a moment, weighing the need to spend the rest of the day in enjoyable pursuits with the need to show off for Alice. He made a mental tsk at the fact that even he, the most logical of men, felt the desire to impress his woman, but honesty forced him to admit that at the moment it was the strongest desire.

  “Very well,” he said, picking up the saber. “But we don’t have any masks.”

  “We don’t need them; we’ll exclude the head from the target area. Acknowledged touches only, since we lack the proper gear. Winner at three, all right?”

  “As you like.”

  “This is stupid. You could get hurt,” Alice protested when Gunner, at a glance from Elliott, pulled her back to the sidelines.

  “These are practice sabers,” Elliott said, holding up the weapon. “The blades are dulled and there are plastic tips on the point of the sword. Ideally, we’d be hooked up to the usual fencing electronics if we were having a proper match, but since this is just to satisfy Patrick’s ego—”

  “You accepted the challenge. Your ego is just as involved as mine.”

  “—then we’ll just use gentlemen’s agreement rules, such as they are.” He saluted Patrick with the saber, and took an opening stance. “You need not worry that either of us will be—bloody hell!”

  Before he could finish reassuring Alice, Patrick lunged forward and slashed across his chest. Elliott just barely parried the thrust in time, and even then, the tip of Patrick’s blade snagged on his sleeve, and ripped a long gash in the material.

  Patrick bared his teeth in a feral smile. “Will you look at that? My sword seems t’have lost the cap.”

  “Oh my god, I knew it! Are you all right?” Alice ran forward to examine his arm.

  “I am unharmed, if that’s what you mean. You did that on purpose,” Elliott said to Patrick, examining his torn sleeve. Dammit, this was one of his favorite shirts. “My mother gave me this shirt two Christmases ago!”

  “My apologies.” Patrick took up his position again. “Shall we continue, or are you going to whinge some more?”

  “Look, I realize you guys are now in a pissing match, but since it involves swords, I think you need to take it down a few notches,” Alice said, trying to piece together his torn sleeve. She added to Elliott, “I don’t want you getting hurt, and no, that’s not a reflection on your skill.”

  “I could get hurt, too, you know,” Patrick said.

  She tossed, “I don’t give a damn about you,” over her shoulder to him before continuing on to Elliott, “Some women may think it’s fun to have men fighting over them, but I’m not one.”

  “We aren’t fighting over you. At least I am not. And for your information, Patrick, I am not whinging. I am simply pointing out that you have willfully destroyed the sleeve of a very nice shirt that was a gift. That is not very sporting, a fact that I have no doubt Alice noticed.”

  She sighed in a dramatic manner, shook her head, and turned on her heel. “You two want to do this, go right ahead. But you’ll do it without me watching.”

  “She left,” Patrick said, all astonishment.

  “She said she didn’t care for us fighting.” Elliott raised his saber. “Evidently you never learned that about Alice, and yet I instinctively knew it. En garde.”

  “Yes, but women love it when men—you bastard!”

  Patrick had automatically returned Elliott’s salute, which meant he was free to attack. With two swift strokes, he slashed both shoulders of Patrick’s polo shirt. Patrick stared in astonishment first at his shirt, then moved his gaze to Elliott’s sword. The tip had mysteriously disappeared from it, as well.

  Elliott smiled.

  “Oh, it’s on now, lad,” Patrick said, raising his sword.

  “Lighting isn’t great in here, but I think I can get a few good shots,” Gunner said from the sidelines, his camera in hand. “No one splash any blood my way, please. I don’t want to get my Nikon dirty.”

  “There will be no blood,” Elliott promised, narrowing his eyes. “Patrick will be lucky if I leave him with a shirt, however.”

  Patrick tossed his head in his usual dramatic fashion, and snarled, “You’ll be lucky if you walk out of here with your trousers intact.”

  Ten minutes later Elliott exited the building (trousers fully intact), immediately going over to where Alice sat in the lotus position on a small swath of grass, her eyes closed and her palms upraised. She cracked one eye open when his shadow fell across her, the other eye popping open in surprise. “What the hell?”

  He made a wry face, gesturing toward his chest with the hand that held both detached sleeves. “Patrick was better than I remembered.”

  “Evidently. I only hope you returned the favor. . . . Oh.” Patrick and Gunner stopped next to them. Patrick was shirtless, holding the remains of his shredded shirt. “I see that you did.”

  “Put your shirt back on, man,” Elliott told Patrick when he noticed the latter was flexing his muscles in Alice’s direction.

  “What shirt? All I have left is a rag, thanks to your damned insistence on ruining a perfectly good garment.”

  “Pot, kettle, black,” Elliott told him, offering his hand to Alice. She took it and rose, frowning when two women walked by, giggling at Patrick.

  “You look like a male prostitute,” she told him, then turned to Elliott.

  He wanted to kiss her at that moment. And although he wasn’t a man to give free rein to his emotions when it came to public displays, he felt that since he could still wear his shirt, he was the victor, and thus, he was due a boon. He caught Alice up and laid his lips on her in a way that gave no uncertain message to Patrick.

  “Bah. I don’t need t’see that sort of abuse,” Patrick spat out, then stomped away. “I’m going t’fetch another shirt. I’ll catch you up later.”

  “Would you like to try that again, this time without having Patrick in mind?” Alice asked when he shot a triumphant smirk at Patrick’s back.

  He looked back down at her. One eyebrow was cocked in a very jaded expression. “My apologies. Yes, I would like to try again, but only if Gunner puts down that damned camera. I think he has enough shots of us snogging.”

  “That,” Alice said, grabbing him by the tattered stubs that were all that remained of his collar points, “was not snogging. This is.”

  Her mouth was warm and wonderful, and he wanted badly to be back in their little cabin, so he could do more than just be the recipient of a kiss that all but steamed, but after allowing her to suck his tongue for a few seconds, he remembered that Gunner was likely even at that moment e-mailing pictures of them to his mother.

  “That was exceptionally good,” he told Alice softly, relishing the feel of her in his arms. “Remind me to thank you later. When we’re alone. And naked.”

  “Deal.” She smiled at him, making him feel as if he were standing in a spotlight of heat.

  It was her eyes, he decided, gazing into them. They were particularly mossy-colored today, standing out in the bright sunlight. The little flecks of gold and brown were particularly pronounced, but it was the warmth in them that had him thinking seriously about escorting her straight back to the ship. Surely they’d done enough sightseeing for the day?

  The clicking of Gunner’s camera brought him to his senses. With reluctance, he let go of Alice, offering her his arm. She took it, and they started down the hill toward the town proper. “Shall we have some lunch?”

  “Sounds good to me. Although do you think they’ll serve you without sleeves?”

  “If I explain that I lost them in a dueling accident, perhaps they will.”

  She slid him a sidelong glance. “What are we going to do about Patrick?”

  “What can we do? Short of bodily putting him on a plane back to Paris, I am at a lo
ss as to how to keep him from following us. Unfortunately, he knows the cruise schedule.”

  “Mum says thanks for the photos, and she’ll be in contact with you shortly, El,” said Gunner, who had been busily sending pictures out via his phone, as he caught up with them wearing a delighted grin. “She really liked the one where Alice grabbed your head with both hands.”

  Elliott sighed. He knew any protest about the invasion of his (and Alice’s, for that matter) privacy would be futile. Even before he could say anything, his phone buzzed, indicating a text received.

  Alice laughed at the look on his face. “It could be worse, you know.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  Her smile was pure cheek. “She could have seen the picture of you with my captain’s hat.”

  “Oh, yes, about this picture that Patrick has seen but evidently was removed,” Gunner started to say, but Alice just laughed and released Elliott’s arm to dash ahead, cooing over an outdoor café on the next block.

  “I like her,” Gunner said as the two men strolled down the cobblestoned street. “She doesn’t seem like the sort to play games.”

  “Patrick, you mean?”

  Gunner nodded.

  “I agree.” Elliott watched as Alice, with her phone in hand, attempted to decipher a menu posted on the café’s wall. “Patrick being here is none of her doing, nor is it her desire.”

  “What are you going to do about him?”

  He shrugged. “What can I do?”

  “Not a lot, although I have to admit you’re a better man than me if you’re willing to put up with her ex trying to woo her out from under you.” They walked in silence for a few seconds before Gunner asked, “You going to keep her?”

  “I don’t know,” Elliott answered, his gaze still on Alice. Her hair glistened with hidden golden highlights in the sunshine, the wind causing her light dress to caress her lush form in a way that had the blood pooling in his groin. “I suspect that’s going to depend on if Alice can be persuaded to put up with a stodgy, hidebound man who couldn’t be a pirate if his life depended on it.”