Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2)

by Maggi Andersen

  Nicholas reached her and put his hands on her bare arms. “For God’s sake, Carrie…”

  “No. God would approve of my love of life,” she said, raising her arms to place them around his neck. “Don’t you love anything or anyone?”

  “This isn’t sensible.” His voice sounded strained, but he left her hands where they were, his own resting at her waist.

  She peered at him in the shadow of a large chestnut tree. Was he very cross with her? It was hard to make out his expression in the gloom. “Must we always be sensible?”

  “Mistakes can ruin lives, sweetheart.”

  He sounded as if he was speaking about himself. His life. What mistake made him like this? He was a man who could be tender, and he cared deeply for both people and animals. She had witnessed it often enough. It was partly why she loved him. But he would never tell her what made him so reluctant to enjoy life to the full. She doubted he’d revealed the reason to anyone. No, she thought, he would have told her father. She remembered something Papa had said before he died. If you find a man as good as Nicholas, I shall be happy in heaven.

  “You’re a good man, Nicholas.”

  He gently removed her hands and stepped back. “I’m a man, whether I’m good remains to be seen.”

  Nicholas paused on the path and contemplated her. Might he understand her at last? Did he like what he saw? Or disapprove of her and believe he was right all along: that she was a foolish young woman in need of a man’s guidance. She frowned. Surely a woman could do as she wished without suffering a man’s disapproval?

  She would hate for him to think her foolish. Nicholas was such a stickler for correct behavior. It was that which drew her on to goad him. And she had gone so far there was no turning back now. Tonight would bring the matter to a head, and she would know. “Everything has become clear to me,” she said, although it hadn’t, really. But she’d drawn a response from him.

  “Everything?” He asked as he strode toward her.

  He looked so purposeful; Carrie gasped.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Moon madness, that was what this was. Nicholas had heard of it but never quite believed it until now. And he suffered an acute case. He had to hang on before all the reasonable, coherent thoughts which drove him to this point were in danger of melting away like quicksilver or fairy dust.

  Jealousy curdled inside him at the thought of some man touching Carrie as she was now, almost naked, with her glorious hair curling over her shoulders. Through the fine lawn of her nightgown, the moonlight revealed the lush swell of her breasts and the rounded curve of her bottom.

  He stripped off his banyan and held it out to her. “Put this on, please.”

  She gazed at him defiantly. Then snatched it from him and struggled into it. He came to roll up the sleeves.

  “I wish to stay here,” she said, waving her arm as if to encompass the fairies she was sure were peaking from the flowery shrubs.

  Before she could step away, Nicholas grabbed hold of her, hefting her up in his arms. He started toward the house.

  She rested her head against his chest. “I can hear your heart. It beats in rhythm with mine.”

  “Does it?”

  “Your voice rumbles delightfully. If you are taking me back to my bedchamber, I am quite able to walk, thank you.”

  “You promise to go to bed?”

  “Nicholas.” Carrie leaned against him, her face raised, her beautiful brown eyes searching his. “You have a very nice name. Did you know that?”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He continued across the grass, aware of her fragrant body, warm against his.

  “Put me down. I am quite sober now. Thanks to you.”

  He set her back on her feet, and when she stumbled, he grabbed hold of her hand. “Let’s hope everyone is still asleep.”

  He led Carrie across the floor and up the stairs.

  Carrie tossed her auburn locks back over her shoulders and gazed up at him. “I have yet to see your bedchamber, Nicholas, please show it to me.”

  “Ah, Carrie,” he murmured. “I am only human.”

  “The lady you ate supper with at the ball was beautiful. Are you in love with her?” Her voice echoed down the hallway.

  Nicholas hushed her. Fortunately, the staff had retired for the evening; still, they remained in danger of being overheard. “We can’t talk here.”

  “I’d like to know. She might become your wife. Does she like children?”

  Nicholas groaned. Hefting her up again because her voice carried as she dawdled along, he carried her swiftly to his bedchamber, which was a few steps away, and shut the door.

  He wasn’t sure what he would do or say, but suspected he’d lost his mind. Still unsure of his actions, he locked the door, although he’d told his valet to retire for the evening.

  Nicholas turned to gaze at her, delighting in the sight of her, here in his bedchamber. An enchanted night on which he could almost visualize the fairies nodding their approval. Madness. But divine madness all the same. He folded his arms and remained at the door, watching Carrie as she wandered around the room.

  ***

  “Oh. So this is your bedchamber, Nicholas.” Carrie felt his gaze on her. “It’s quite pleasant. For a gentleman.” Two silver candelabra on the bureau cast light and shadow over heavy mahogany furniture, somber green bed furnishings with gold tassels, and walls papered in a design of dark green and gold. They were of the finest quality, but somber. A wife would certainly redecorate it, but then, he might seldom use it…

  Carrie flushed at her bold thoughts and climbed the steps to perch on the enormous bed, taking hold of one of the intricately carved oak posts. He remained where he was, silently contemplating her.

  Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. Nicholas looked at her in a way she’d never encountered. Men had flirted and flattered her, but this was raw desire as a man looks at a woman he wants. Her breath shortened, and her stomach clenched low down. She wanted him so much. Her body demanded something she wasn’t sure of. Did he love her? Really love her? She must know. “Why don’t you come over here?”

  “When you agree to go to bed, I shall escort you there.” From a chair, he picked up his midnight blue dressing gown embellished with golden dragons and gold fastenings and shrugged it on.

  “That is very handsome.” She wondered why he needed it. Didn’t people take clothes off when making love?

  So, Nicholas wouldn’t make love to her.

  “I see any sensible conversation is beyond us tonight. I shall take you back.” Nicholas walked over to her. He tied the banyan sash around her waist and looped it up to make it shorter. She stared down at his bent, dark head. Her fingers curled. She longed to stroke his hair. How silky it looked in the candlelight. A lock had fallen over his forehead. He pushed it back as he concentrated on rolling up the long sleeves of the banyan again, which was a foot too long for her arms. Apparently satisfied, he held out his hand to her.

  She ignored it. “You want me to go, Nicholas?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “I brought you here to talk to you. But I realize the futility of it.”

  “Talk? What about?” she said crossly. She really didn’t have a shred of pride left.

  “What lies behind all this?” He kept his distance, watching her, arms folded. “Are you reluctant to return to London because of Bella and Jeremy? They will be in London for a week.”

  Carrie shook her head. She would not tell him she loved him. Let him declare it first. “I don’t want to leave Elm Park. Can’t we all just stay here?”

  He thrust his hands into his hair. “We have become fond of each other. It’s not surprising, being thrown together as we have.”

  “Fond seems such a paltry word, doesn’t it? I am fond of kittens. I am fond of strawberry jam on my toast.” She eyed him owlishly. “How do you know I would think that in the morning if we were…?” She frowned at him. “Are you not a wonderful lover?”

  Nicholas’s gaze
swept over her, then slid away. “It is not my place to introduce you to the delights of lovemaking. That is for your husband.”

  It was true. Such an act would alter her life. She would not be the same girl anymore. She would be a woman. But she wouldn’t regret it. Even if he didn’t love her enough, even if there was another lady in his life, and they never married, she would have this memory. No one could take it from her. During the evening, she’d gone too far. Now there was no turning back.

  Carrie almost tripped as she stumbled off the bed and walked toward him, tangled in yards of silk, the banyan fell down her arms, pooling at her feet. “Wouldn’t you like to kiss me?”

  Nicholas breathed sharply as if he struggled with himself. “Carrie!” The low, husky tone altered his voice and changed him into someone else.

  He reached out to her and drew her hard against him, his cheek resting on her hair, his arms tight around her, making her feel safe, wanted. “I can’t, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be right.”

  His dressing gown hung loose. She breathed him in, his fresh male smell, starched linens, and woody soap. His arousal pressed with intriguing insistence against her stomach. So strange and thrilling. A need to know more of him drove her to slip her hands inside his dressing gown. He gasped but didn’t move away. Pulling his shirt free of his trousers, she stroked his skin, smooth and firm, the muscles of his chest strongly defined.

  She leaned against him, a little dizzy.

  He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length, his eyes betraying his ardor. “You are the worst for wine tonight. If I made love to you, took away your innocence,” he said, his voice still roughened by desire, “we’d have to marry, or you would begin your marriage to another man with a lie.”

  “If that is a proposal, it’s not a very romantic one.”

  His mouth curved with tenderness as he shook his head. She stared up at him. “You want me, though, don’t you, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas’s eyes were dark with emotion. “I am perfectly aware of what an amazing young woman you are. Mature beyond your years in many ways.”

  She frowned. “In what ways am I not?”

  “You’re an innocent, sweetheart.” His voice gruff, he turned away from her while his hands returned to his disordered hair. “Do you know what you do to me?” He swung back to her. “It’s all I can do to keep from touching you.”

  “Well then?”

  “I was mad to bring you here. No more of this. You are going to bed. If we leave it much longer, the servants will be up and about.”

  Was it merely desire he felt for her? She yearned to tell him how much she loved him, how she would want no one else. But it would only dismay him. Had she shocked him? But Carrie doubted she had. Something had changed between them. Ice had been broken. Melted. “Why don’t you want to marry, Nicholas?”

  “Marriage doesn’t suit every man.” His heavy-lidded gaze roamed over her, sending a frisson of desire through her and weakening her knees. Suddenly, she knew if she continued with this, she would win. He would take her to bed. And he would marry her. But what sort of victory would that be? She must hold on to the hope Nicholas would change his mind and come to his senses. If they married, it would be for the right reasons. Built on a solid foundation that would endure. The idea of a marriage where both parties sought romance in others appalled her.

  Carrie yawned. “I am tired. Thank you, for…for the agreeable things you said.”

  “Carrie…”

  “It’s my birthday today,” she said, lifting her chin. “I am twenty-one.”

  His eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have…”

  She shook her head. “It didn’t seem the right time for a celebration.”

  “It might have been the perfect time, sweetheart.”

  Carrie pushed her hair away from her face and plaited the locks in a loose braid with shaky fingers. “I must go.” She smoothed down the folds of his banyan flowing around her ankles as if they’d just met at a ball. “It’s best I go alone.”

  She ran to the door, opened it, and rushed out. Not glancing back to see if he watched her or came after her, she darted along the corridor. She turned a corner and was relieved when she reached her bedchamber in the east wing. It had grown so late that the candles burned low in the sconces. No one was about. She hurried inside.

  Light from the corridor shone into her room. Anna had left a candle in a silver candlestick, but it had drowned in a spill of wax. Carrie ran to grasp the tinderbox and light another, then she shut the door, and leaned against it, her breath more of a sob. Oh, why had she pushed him into this denial tonight? Had it ended any chance for them? She’d been wanton and should be ashamed. But strangely, she wasn’t. She didn’t believe for a minute he didn’t want her. But, for whatever reason, he didn’t intend to marry her or anyone. He desired her, though, she noted with a surge of triumph. And was almost sure he loved her. That gave her hope. When she discovered what held him back, everything would change between them.

  She slipped out of the banyan and held it to her nose, inhaling his male smell, then tucked it in a drawer beneath her nightgowns.

  When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t appear any different, but oh, she was. She’d discovered her feminine power. And if she must, she would use it again to better effect. She sank down on the bed, and suddenly exhausted, she pulled back the covers and slipped between the cool sheets.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nicholas leaned his hands on the windowsill and stared out. The moon sailed across a sky like indigo silk studded with diamonds. Did Carrie think him a coward? He had no hesitation in facing a man in combat. But baring his heart was a different matter. He knew himself too well. When he fell in love, it would be with his heart and soul and every fiber of his being. It would be forever. Perhaps knowing this had made him fear risking his peace to love deeply again. But Max’s children had come into his life. And he would slay dragons for them.

  He glanced at the mantel clock. It was almost four. He examined what had just occurred between him and Carrie. He heaved a sigh. Questioning himself and his behavior must wait for the cold light of day when he could think things through objectively. He stripped off his clothes, in need of a few hours of slumber. Sleep had been scarce of late because his nights, even when he retired at a reasonable hour, were restless and disturbed by dreams.

  He poured the water, now cold, from the jug into a basin, washed his face, and sponged his body, drying himself with a towel. He cleaned his teeth and climbed naked into bed, hopeful of dozing for the few hours left to him. And before he must deal with Jeremy at breakfast.

  Sleep proved impossible. After his busy mind kept him awake, he rose and opened the curtains to watch the dawn break. The full moon had passed out of sight; perhaps now the magic would be gone. It gave him no pleasure to think it.

  Later in the morning, a little ragged, he entered the breakfast room where Jeremy, Bella, and Miss Scotsdale sat eating breakfast. It didn’t surprise him to find Carrie’s chair vacant.

  Knife and fork in hand, Jeremy hurriedly finished chewing and swallowed a mouthful of bacon. “Are we riding after breakfast, Nicholas?”

  As he drew out a chair and sat to drink his coffee, he tried to sound enthusiastic about embarking on a bruising ride with Jeremy. “A short ride, Jeremy. I have a trip to make today.” He accepted a cup of coffee from Giles. “We’ll ride out to say goodbye to the gypsies. They leave today. If I can rely on you not to go off with them, Bella.”

  Bella giggled. “I prefer to live at Elm Park than in a wagon.”

  “I am gratified to hear it. Have you seen your sister this morning?”

  “No. She had a tray sent up to her room,” Bella explained. “She is busy packing for London.”

  “Ah.”

  So Carrie had given up on him. He couldn’t blame her. Although he gave himself points for resisting her beautiful body, refusing her had hurt her. In the sobering light of day, she might have
a different view. Even an innocent such as Carrie must understand what making love would lead to. And he wanted her to look back on that special time in her life with love in her heart, not regret. She would probably marry Ludlow or some fellow who would be free with his feelings in a way Nicholas could not. Jealousy struck hot and potent in his throat, and he swallowed it down with coffee.

  Nicholas ate a few mouthfuls of egg, his appetite gone. He rose from the table. “Bella, will you ride with us?”

  “No, thank you, Nicholas. I found a harp in the attic, and I’m going to practice.”

  “In the attic?” That would have been Gwen’s. He regretted his veto of the instrument earlier because he didn’t want the girl humiliated as his sister had been. Perhaps she really had talent, as Carrie said. “I don’t want you up in the attic. A servant will bring the harp down to the music room.”

  Bella beamed. “Thank you, Nicholas. I must tell Carrie.”

  Nicholas followed Jeremy out. “Can I ride Prince, Nicholas?”

  “When you turn twenty-one,” Nicholas said, pulling on his gloves.

  As soon as he returned, he would leave with Lady Penelope. He wouldn’t return until well after dark. There would be no opportunity to smooth over things with Carrie until after dinner if she wished to talk to him.

  As he prepared to leave, his secretary handed him a letter. “Came by special post, milord,” Warren said.

  “Thank you.” Nicholas picked up his letter opener. He slit the letter open and unfolded the paper. It was from Ludlow, requesting his permission to call on Carrie with a view to marriage. In his scrawling hand, Ludlow explained how he’d loved her since he first set eyes on her. She was an angel. He detailed his prospects. Next in line for the barony, etc.

  Nicholas wished he could find reasons to dislike the fellow, but he knew the family well. Ludlow was a good sort. Just the type of man he would have chosen for her.

  Would he soon be congratulating them? And be relieved to see her happy and settled, wouldn’t he?