Seven Lovely Sins (The Northumberland Nine Book 7)

by Dayna Quince

  She smiled.

  “If I had a ha’penny for every sin I’ve committed, I’d be the wealthiest man in England.”

  She scoffed. “You can’t mean that. If you were such a terrible person, Weirick would never have invited you to this party nor would have Violet. You wouldn’t be allowed within one hundred feet of us.”

  “I have no idea why they invited me, probably because Weirick is certain that I’d be too terrified of him to compromise one of you. But not all of my sins involve women or seduction.” There were those feelings again. Shame and guilt rising up inside him like a tide, drowning him with emotions he didn’t know how to tread.

  He’d done terrible things compared to the angel beside him. He was the devil, undeserving of sharing the same air with her, and yet here they both sat. The world was fickle that way, and also a bit amusing. How had he come to be here? At this place in his life. His brother shot. Quite possibly dying for him, and yet still determined to save him.

  After all this time, all the resentment and arguing, Theo knew he didn’t deserve a brother like Callen, valiant and caring. He didn’t deserve a lot of the good fortune he had.

  He was no martyr.

  He wasn’t going to stop being a privileged son. He wasn’t going to geld himself and take up orders. Perhaps he should put his life in the hands of God and join the military. Following orders was not his talent at all, but at least then he’d be away from decent people like the woman beside him. Unable to hurt them, taint them by affiliation.

  He just didn’t know what his future held anymore or what he should do with it. He had no purpose.

  That was the most depressing thing of all. But what could he do?

  There wasn’t time to do anything until news arrived of Sir Kirby’s fate. He was stuck here in Northumberland for the time being, but it could be worse. He could be in a cell in Newgate.

  He picked up a rock and chucked it out over the sand. It rolled into the surf.

  “Do you want to hear me sing?” she asked.

  He turned to her with surprise.

  “But you can’t tell anyone and you have to promise you won’t…laugh.”

  “Have you forgotten I’ve already heard you sing? There is nothing to laugh at. You’re remarkable, and I am honored to hear you however secretly it is.”

  “It’s just I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to…be brave like this. You’re here, I’m here, why not? I should live a little. There is nothing else to do here in Northumberland.”

  “I don’t recommend living a little,” he said. “You should live a lot. You should do things that terrify you, taste things you think you won’t like, and say things that others might not want to hear that are true, and more importantly, you should not regret a single thing.”

  “Do you have regrets?”

  Lord, how he did. More than he could account for. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t try. Trying is all we can do. Every day I wake up with the best of intentions, and everything that happens after that…” He shrugged. “Well, at least I tried.”

  She cocked her head again and studied him, and he wondered just what she saw.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite as honest as you,” she said. “Do you hide nothing?”

  “I hide a great deal from others. I suppose everyone does. Even in our civilized society, we do not want to show weakness. It opens us to pain.”

  “Is London society really that terrible?”

  “It’s the worst,” he said. “We sin with one hand and repent with the other and pretend the two are the exact same thing.”

  She frowned. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means we’re all hypocrites. You should trust no one, least of all anyone who tries to tell you how you should behave. The people who are the most restraining are often the vilest.”

  She straightened, fixing her skirt over her legs. “I shall take that into consideration should I ever travel to London.”

  “I recommend you don’t. Stay here. It’s simple, easy, no one smiling to your face while another stabs you in the back.”

  “My God, you are dramatic,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

  “London ballrooms are filled with snakes, and the streets with criminals who will cut your throat while they pick your pockets.”

  “Just before you told me that I should travel.”

  “Not to London. I meant other places.” He shrugged again. “I suppose that advice was terrible. You have the right of it, stay here, get married, have some children of your own, and next time you come across a man on the beach, stick that knife right in his belly because he is up to no good.”

  “You’ve gone deep into your cynicism. What is it that is dragging you down?”

  His breath caught. “It certainly feels like I’ve got weights chained to my feet and I’m sinking,” he said. He stared out at the water and envisioned all that guilt and shame inside him was black, tarry water covering his mouth and nose, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs just wouldn’t move.

  Her hand touched his shoulder, and he drew in a breath.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems. Your brother is powerful and so is the duke. They are your friends. Surely they can do something to help you.”

  “Sing for me?” he asked.

  It might be the only thing that could help him sleep tonight. Her voice had resonating peacefulness that might hold him until the morning. He needed to breathe. He needed a moment of rest, to block out his thoughts with something. Usually liquor and women did the trick, but he had neither at hand.

  Right now, he just had her and that magical voice.

  “Please,” he begged.

  “What do you want me to sing?” she asked

  “Anything, anything at all.”

  She licked her lips, leaving them glistening with moisture, an unintentional invitation to taste her. He wanted to reach for her.

  Of course he did, because he usually found a way to ruin the most innocent of moments. But he needed to hear her sing more than he needed to slake his lust. For once, he had a greater need than his own pleasures.

  “Sing me a lullaby, sing me anything you want. Are you brave enough to do it?” he asked.

  Nicolette nodded and then looked out to the sea once more. She folded her hands over her stomach and took a deep breath.

  Chapter 11

  Nic opened her mouth, and then she slammed it shut again. Her mind blanked. She didn’t know what to sing. It was as if every song she ever knew had disappeared from her memory, and she couldn’t string two words together. This was precisely why she never sang for her sisters. She didn’t do more than hum along to a melody in front of them. They’d complimented her more than once in the off times when she’d come close to letting her true voice out, and each time her throat locked up tight. A vault, keeping all sound within her.

  She didn’t know why she was so afraid. They were her sisters. They loved her. Deep down, she wanted to believe she did have some amazing talent, that quite possibly could be used to help lift her family out of poverty, but she just didn’t know how.

  She could feel Mr. Denham staring at her. She shook her head. She never imagined coming across him like this. Of all the conversations, in all the locations. She was now sitting beside the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and she’d spoken to him. She continued to speak to him… She just couldn’t sing.

  Could this be a dream? Had she never left her room?

  No. Everything was too real. The cool sand, the whip of the wind against her cheeks. The awareness of him, it strummed her nerve endings with the gentle hum of a cello. She’d only heard one once, during the last ball at the castle four months ago, but it was a sound she’d never forget.

  “I’m sorry I can’t do it. I thought I could but…I can’t.”

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “I don’t even know. Just
thinking about singing in front of anyone makes my heart pound and my teeth chatter.”

  He stared back out at the water and then back to her as if he’d come to some sort of conclusion. “What if I sing to you?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll sing a jaunty tune, and should you feel like it, join in, and if not, ultimately I will have only embarrassed myself. But I’m used to it, it’s no bother.”

  Nic giggled softly. This was the oddest and most real conversation she’d ever had. And to think earlier she feared she’d never be able to speak to a gentleman like him. Her stomach had jumped to her throat when she’d seen his shadow from the corner of her eye, her voice freezing, her limbs going stiff with fear as she had quickly unsheathed her knife. But when she turned toward the mysterious figure, something strange had happened. Her fear left her and as recognition took its place, she’d been able to speak to him.

  She bit her cheek.

  She could hardly remember what she’d said now. Her mind was giddy and a circus of emotions and thoughts. Her nerves leapt every time he said the word seduction or alluded to it, as if eagerly anticipating such an event.

  Mr. Denham had all the beauty and wickedness of a fallen angel, destined to lead many a fair maiden astray, and yet here he sat, not seducing her but instead trying to encourage her. Perhaps that was his method, to worm his way through her defenses with banter. As she sat there staring at him, she didn’t want to believe it. How cynical was she? Should she be suspicious of him? Was she being naïve to believe anything he said? Perhaps she ought to be, if only to protect herself, and yet somehow sitting here with him, she felt safe and comfortable.

  She should sing.

  She should really try. When would she have such an opportunity? There was no one around to hear but him.

  Nic took a deep breath, the familiar tightness in her chest returning and her throat dry and itchy. She knotted her fingers together in her lap and sat up straighter, giving her lungs the room they needed to efficiently make sound.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m going to try.”

  He briefly glanced at her, and then he turned his gaze back to the sea. “Take your time. We have all night.”

  She drew in another breath, slowly, gathering courage. Her palms grew damp.

  “Blow on ye wind, descend soft rain, to soothe my tender grief.” She sounded so small and frail, disgustingly meek. Not at all the way she had sounded before when she thought she was alone. She squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath, willing her voice to return, commanding her lungs to expand.

  “Your solemn music lulls my pain and yields me short relief.” She swallowed, moistening her lips and her mouth. “O my heart, my heavy, heavy heart…” The muscles strangling her throat eased, but she kept her eyes closed, drowning out all else but her own voice. “Swells as ‘twould burst in twain. Nor tongue can e’er describe its smart. Nor I conceal its pain.”

  Nic shivered and she opened her eyes. She turned to him and found him staring at her, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

  “Oh, God, it was terrible. Are your ears bleeding?”

  “Magnificent,” he whispered.

  “What?” she asked, her heart pounding with the force of the blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil.

  “Your voice it’s…transcendent. I know I’m doing a terrible job describing it but it’s like…moving and echoing and vibrating. All the glory of church bells ringing across the city but better. More…more everything,” he said.

  Warmth filled her cheeks, and she didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” she said after a moment.

  “No, I should be thanking you.” He leaned toward her, his shoulder brushing hers, and his hand cupped her cheek. Nic couldn’t move or breath as his face came so close to her that he was all she could see. He blocked out everything, the ocean, the stretch of beach, the starry sky.

  The future that had spread out before her when she left her room earlier. He filled every space completely. A dizzying giddiness filled her head. She could have been falling, but his hand anchored her.

  “I’m going to kiss you. Tell me not to kiss you. Tell me to leave you alone. I’m no good for you, no good for anyone,” he said.

  She smiled. “I can’t. Kiss me if that is what you wish.”

  His thumb brushed her cheek. “What do you wish?” His gaze searched hers, and she saw the night sky contained in his eyes. She wished on every star in that mysterious world within him.

  “I wish you would kiss me,” she said.

  He caught her lips in a kiss not too forward or commanding but deliciously playful, like a wolf toying with its prey.

  Nic kissed him back, and the feel of his lips pressed against hers rendered her control to cinders. He swept his tongue across the seam of her lips, brushing them open and thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. She braced herself, expecting the same oniony, slimy flavor that she experienced with Jeremy McMackel, but it never came. His velvety tongue caressed hers, and he tasted of sweet wine mixed with sea salt. Her body melted toward his, one hand sinking into the sand as she leaned into him. His arm came around her and tipped her back until the earth gave under her head like a pillow, and he was over her, around her, kissing her as though he cherished her.

  Had she ever been cherished?

  The thoughts slipped away like scattered leaves.

  His weight settled over her, warm, heavy but not frightening. Her legs tangled in her skirts, but he seemed to know how to keep himself from crushing her, how to make her comfortable with his weight. Both his hands cradled her face now, and he angled his head, his tongue taking light tastes of hers, giving her just enough time to breathe between the next kiss…and the next.

  Chapter 12

  Theo explored the heavenly cavern of her mouth with reverence. She put up no resistance, foolish girl. Were he a weaker man, he could take every advantage, but one thing he’d never been was weak. Foolish, yes, wicked, definitely, but he cherished the trust of a woman no matter how ill-advised it was.

  Some vows could never be broken.

  She met his kiss timidly but with interest, even curiosity. Was this her first? He didn’t think so, but she was inexperienced, stumbling through the movements. He didn’t like the idea that a man had been there before him, a bad kisser, at that. Theo didn’t praise purity like society foolishly did, but dammit, he felt possessive over this moment, of this perfectly imperfect kiss. He wanted to be selfish and be the only man to know Nicolette Marsden was a skilled seductress even if she didn’t know it. He was thoroughly seduced. He would do whatever she wished, and she only had to ask.

  Just as his body and his brain began to communicate and plot their way beneath her skirts, he broke the kiss. There was too much danger here, not just for her but for him. This was as far as it could go. He was is no place to offer her more and neither was she. He pushed himself up slowly as her eyes blinked open, and she stared up at him with wonder.

  “Was that your first kiss?” he asked. He had to know for his own foolish pride.

  She shook her head. “Jeremy McMackel. He lives in the village near the port. But yours was better,” she said.

  “Of course, it was. You’re dealing with a master now.”

  She rolled her eyes and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders.

  “You’re thoroughly compromised, aren’t you?” Damn it, why did he just say that?

  “I understand,” she said.

  “But I can’t marry you. I may have been invited here as one of the lucky few to court you and your sisters, but it was foolish on their part. I’m soon leaving England permanently, and I can’t take a wife with me.”

  “Oh,” she said rather despondently, which soothed his battered ego but not his guilt.

  “But I had to steal one kiss, you see. What kind of rake would I be if I didn’t take advantage at least the tiniest bit?”

  She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes
at him. “What was the point of kissing me?”

  “Because I wanted to,” he admitted freely. “Because you’re beautiful, your voice entranced me, and you’re someone I’ll never have so I stole a kiss, the way a starving man steals an apple from a cart and runs away into the night.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “Is that what you’re doing, running away? To escape the women you kissed?”

  “I wish it was that simple but it’s more serious than that. Not a story I want to be sharing with you. I want a great deal more than a kiss, but I shall only take the kiss, and we must return to the castle now.”

  She hesitated before accepting his offered arm him.

  Theo wondered if he might just have made the biggest mistake of his life and the biggest regret.

  And then he wondered if there was even a difference between the two, mistakes and regrets. Either way, he was a devil who attempted an angel, and he deserved to go to the hell that he was about to face.

  Chapter 13

  Nicolette followed her sisters down to breakfast in a daze. She could barely keep her eyes open as she filled a plate and took a seat beside Odette. She felt like she was still dreaming, every movement heavy and slow. She blinked down at her eggs and tried to remember what she’d meant to do with the fork in her hand. Oh, right, she meant to put it in her mouth. Her lips still felt bruised from his kisses. It could have been her imagination, but last night they’d appeared fuller and pinker.

  She took a few bites and then set her fork down and rubbed her temples. She couldn’t stop thinking about the beach, and when she’d fallen asleep, she’d dreamed about it, the kiss continuing far beyond the brush of his lips. Her skin grew hot just remembering her dreams.

  Luna was speaking to her, and it took all her wits to follow what she was saying.

  “Are you still having trouble sleeping?” Luna asked.

  Nic stilled and then nodded before briefly glancing at Luna and then back to her plate. “I am. Perhaps I’ll take some of that special sleeping tea you take from time to time.”