by Allison Lane
Only now did he realize how often they had nearly met – far more than chance would dictate in a party of this size. Was she stalking him? Was rubbing his nose in her supposed indifference her way of exacting punishment?
He would not play that game. Never again would he give her the satisfaction of driving him away. He had already proven his control – with only one small stumble. From now on he would face her head-on, capturing first her friendship, then her body. It should not be difficult. She clearly enjoyed debate, so he would fill that need. And if he were honest, he had found their talk both interesting and stimulating.
An hour later he spotted her walking idly in the rose garden. No one else was in sight.
“May I join you?” he asked, coming up from behind so she had less warning.
She jumped. “I think not.”
“Please? I need to correct an erroneous impression. When you refused my offer, I set the idea aside. I am not in the habit of forcing attentions on unwilling women.”
She sent him a look of obvious disbelief, but her words were prosaic. “Very well, my lord. We will drop the subject.”
This was not going as expected – again. She still saw too deeply into his head. It was disconcerting, for she was the only one who had ever penetrated his facade. But he might as well finish his business. “I would like to be friends. But first, we need to put the past behind us.”
“I did that ten years ago, my lord.”
“Then why do you despise me?”
She sighed deeply, then looked him in the eye. “Despise is too harsh. The past is dead and buried. But despite your pretty words, I do not trust you. And friendship with a hardened libertine will tarnish my reputation. Is that clear enough?”
“The past is still with us,” he countered, grasping his hands behind his back so they could do no mischief. He turned along one of the narrower paths, and she automatically joined him, her full skirts occasionally brushing his legs. Bad choice, Nicholas. Tremors weakened his knees. “We move in the same circles, thus we will see each other often for the rest of our lives. Are you comfortable with that? I’m not. Which is why we need to talk. I hurt you badly – and unforgivably. I freely admit it.”
“Yes, you hurt me. You deflated my ego and exposed my dreams for the insubstantial fantasies they were. But the pain was based mostly on embarrassment, so it soon faded. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“You are wrong. I was young and handled the situation very clumsily. It has bothered me ever since. I hope that you can forgive my cruel words. If I had taken the time to think, I could have made it easier on both of us. But I had no experience in such matters – not that that excuses me,” he added when her eyes drew together.
“No. It doesn’t. And this apology is typical. You care for nothing beyond the pleasure of the moment, believing that pretty words and charming smiles will extract forgiveness for any sins. It’s not enough. I am not a brainless widgeon or bored matron whose life revolves around your favors. You should never have spoken to me in the first place and should certainly not have enticed me into indiscretions once you learned my identity. That disrespect alone condemns you. Your cruelty that last day was merely the final straw on a mountain of dishonor.”
He flinched. “Very well. I remain unforgiven. But I would still like to be friends.”
“I am sure you do, but I’m not interested. What wager are you trying to win this time?”
“Wager?”
“Why else would you chase after a baronet’s daughter who could offer nothing but a moment’s reprieve from country boredom?” she quoted, already wishing she had kept her suspicions to herself. Her voice had cracked.
“Do you really believe that I could do something that base?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged. “Considering your vaunted grasp of human nature, what else could it have been?”
“You are wrong. Manipulating someone for one’s own gain is denigrating and despicable. Yes, I often wager on behavior,” he added as she shook her head. “But I take great pains to never affect the outcome. That would dishonor all parties.”
She stared deeply into his eyes, her own troubled.
“That is why I made sure to lose as many bets as I won, Diana. I could not afford to influence the important ones. And I swear that wagering had nothing to do with you. I’ve never told a soul about that summer.”
“Perhaps.” But her eyes had softened just a little.
“Think about it. And about being friends.”
“That is not possible.” She turned to leave, but he blocked the path.
“Set your justified anger aside, and use that logic you are so proud of, Lady Bounty. We are going to keep running into each other. I refuse to avoid your soirees just because you are the hostess. Reports of them fascinated me even before I returned to town. And we have so many friends in common that we are bound to be at the same social gatherings. Then there are Lady Hardesty’s maneuverings.”
“What is your point?”
“We need to get comfortable with each other. You must stop jumping when I appear, and you should banish that scared rabbit expression whenever we speak.”
“Scared rabbit!” she growled, glaring into his eyes. “What an imagination! You can’t stand the idea that I didn’t spend the last ten years pining for you, can you? So you’ve come up with this ludicrous idea that I don’t want you around. You are as welcome as anyone at my soirees. And I’m not going to fall into a swoon if you enter a ballroom. If anyone has a problem, it’s you. Every time you come near me, you act like I’m a feast and you haven’t eaten in six months. Pull your tongue back into your mouth before people decide you’re finally ready for Bedlam.”
“Wha—”
“Don’t deny it. You are as obvious as a stallion scenting a mare in heat. Do you enjoy cultivating the image of a slavering fool? Or are you so incensed that I’m not falling worshipfully at your feet that you are truly blind to your appearance?”
“You are the one who needs Bedlam.” He was quivering with rage.
“Hardly. Ask Lord Justin if you doubt me. But don’t expect me to take you seriously. Your apology is either the first move in a new seduction scheme or a weak attempt to assuage your guilt. The same is true of this demand for friendship. I’m not interested.”
Well, she had certainly turned that effort against him. She had refused to forgive him, enunciated crimes he had never considered, revealed more pain than he had ever imagined she had suffered, seen through every statement to his real purpose, and rejected everything he offered. How much slower could he go without ceasing to see her at all?
* * * *
Another sleepless night sent Diana riding before dawn. At least Nicholas did not join her this time.
He had avoided her in the drawing room last night, too. It was what she had asked for, so why did his attentions to Lady Sophia annoy her?
It didn’t matter. He was a hypocritical libertine who was unworthy of her attention. And she had plenty of other problems.
Chloe had been near tears last night, discouraged and dismayed because George was not developing a disgust of her.
Diana sighed. She had not made it clear that success would take days – possibly even weeks. George was very stubborn, and Chloe could not push him too hard without triggering a response no one would like.
It had taken half an hour to calm the girl. And George was reacting, she noted later. Chloe’s exuberance tightened his mouth and strained his eyes.
Charles was also champing at the bit. His love for Chloe was plain to anyone watching him closely – as she had tried to warn him more than once. He must keep his eyes off her. With luck, he would spend the day hunting with the rest of the men.
George would not be with them. He despised blood sports. Perhaps she could talk with him and paint a clearer picture of Chloe’s interests.
The path she was following emerged into a small clearing along the bank of a stream. Early sunlight filtered through t
he leaves, picking out the wildflowers scattered across the ground. Clumps of shrubs and a large rock hung over the water. A bird sang in the trees. It closely resembled a clearing at home that she had last seen ten years ago.
She dismounted, tying her horse to a low branch. Nicholas’s words in the rose garden had been nipping at her mind all night. Relief that he had not seduced her for a wager had lightened her heart – his shock had been too genuine to question his disclaimer. And he was right about the rest as well. Unless she was prepared to abandon London, they would meet often. Only mourning and the uncertainty of his accession had kept him away this long. She had pushed him so firmly into the past that she had not noticed his absence. Which was good. Surely she could do it again.
She sat down on the rock and stared into the water. More birds added their voices, though without the territorial squabbling common earlier in the year. The stream burbled over rounded rocks, forming a counterpoint to the sounds of dawn. The first rays of the sun warmed the back of her hand where it rested beside her.
This clearing was too familiar. A robin swooped in to deliver food to a nest across the stream. Way too familiar. There had been robins then, too. The third time she had seen him…
Walking through the woods, they had come on the clearing unexpectedly. It was a little later in the day, for most of the fog had burned off. A robin had been chivvying her babies out of the nest and onto a branch near the top of a large shrub.
She sighed.
Nicholas’s hand had rested comfortably on her shoulder as they settled in to watch the nestlings’ first flying lesson. Their meeting had not been arranged – none of them ever were – but both had expected to spend the morning together. Even that first day, they had been able to read each other’s minds.
Stupid! She had been so naïve in those days. He had probably created that impression by spying on her.
But she hadn’t felt naïve that morning. The sun warmed the air. The tiniest of breezes swirled the fading mist into wisps and wraiths. And the baby birds showed every sign of wanting to stay in their cozy nest, pretending that the larger world did not exist. Venturing out where they would be responsible for themselves was not attractive.
The mother bird had patiently coaxed – and finally insisted – that they try their wings. She could still hear the surprised chirps as the babies tumbled one by one off the branch, could still feel their exhilaration as frantic flaps slowed their falls and even gained them some height.
Something about their foray had seemed magical. Nicholas’s hand had moved slightly, his touch changing from platonic friendliness to a gentle caress. She had turned surprised eyes to meet his and found his lips only inches away. That gap hadn’t lasted long. Like the bird, he had chivvied her out of childhood, into a grown-up world of wonder.
She shivered, again feeling that first kiss. He had barely brushed her mouth, but the touch had exploded sensation throughout her body. He had felt her response – no surprise there – and increased the pressure. But he had kept himself firmly under control, touching her only with the one hand and his lips.
After he pulled away, he had met her eyes. His held confusion, and a look that she had interpreted as awe – but which was probably only satisfaction. That was the moment she had fallen in love.
Poor naïve fool.
So how was she to put him behind her once and for all? This time she had no Harry to comfort her tears, no new home to occupy her time and energy, no grief at a father’s death to overwhelm her senses. All she had was a man whose appearance affected her more strongly than before, a routine that required little thought to continue, and a taunt reminding her that no bevy of friends could assuage the loneliness that had gnawed a hole in her heart for ten years.
But she must. Nicholas was now open about his goals. She might be lonely, but she was smart enough to know that no liaison, however satisfactory, could fill that desolation. And he had no interest in permanence. Even setting aside his own words, lords looked for youthful virgins when choosing a wife.
* * * *
Nicholas opened his eyes when a bird’s shrill call made his horse snort. He must have dozed off after sprawling across this rock. A second horse was cropping grass off to his right. He cursed another sleepless night as he brushed moss from his coat. If he couldn’t sleep in his bed, why could he do so here?
He was reaching for the bridle when he spotted the other early riser – Diana – and everything clicked into place. No wonder this spot had relaxed him. The clearing closely resembled that other meeting place, where morning mist had so often cloaked their encounters.
Never once had they made specific assignations. But there were many things they knew without resorting to words. Any morning without rain would bring him to the clearing. Sometimes he arrived first, sometimes she did. But neither had ever waited more than five minutes. In the afternoons they met other places, but mornings were for the clearing.
He stared at her now, again feeling the enchantment. Diana, so beautiful, so different. The forest and the early mist made this meeting feel inevitable.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” he murmured, coming up behind her.
She jumped, exactly as he had accused her of doing yesterday. He watched the realization and chagrin chase across her face. “You startled me. Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been here for an hour.” He nodded toward a second rock that jutted over the water beyond a large shrub. “This reminds me of another wood, another stream.” Already he was falling into her eyes, swept back to the wonder and excitement of those summer days. Lilac reached out, drawing him into a sensual web.
“I wonder if the clearing is still there,” she whispered.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He joined her on the rock, careful to keep a small distance between them.
She shrugged. “My uncle disapproved of everything my father loved. I’ve not been back to see if he cut down the wood.”
“Not once in ten years?”
“We were never close. And Harry stopped traveling toward the end.”
That put a period to that topic. And just as well. He didn’t want to learn that she had become estranged from her family; didn’t want to hear tales of watching her husband die. Bounty had been showing his age badly the last time he’d come to town. The end could not have been easy. “Why did you start your soiree?” he asked instead.
“Harry. I missed our debates.”
“So you re-created them on a larger scale. I wish we had spent our time talking. I would have enjoyed awakening your mind, and things might have been different.”
“Or they might not. You were too young to question what you had been taught about women’s abilities, and you were too full of your own consequence to ignore your desires.”
“Are you implying that I forced you?”
“Not at all. I am pointing out that intellectual debate with a schoolroom miss was not a high priority when you were two-and-twenty. Nor does it matter if it might have been. We cannot remake the past. We can only learn from it.”
“And what have you learned, Diana? To stay out of the forest in the early morning? To lock yourself behind rigid propriety lest temptation again sway you?” He had always associated her with the dawn. It was when they had first met. Like today, she had worn green, a simple gown that clung to slender legs and youthful breasts. She should carry a bow, he thought again, as the rising sun cleared a tree, bathing her in golden light. “I know what you haven’t learned,” he whispered. “Your passion still lives. For all your claims of contentment, you have not learned how to banish it.”
Her eyes darkened, their gold specks blazing with desire. Her lips parted – perhaps to speak – but no sound emerged. It was there, as always, the cord that drew them together.
His lips touched hers softly, a butterfly caress, here and gone in a trice. But the fire exploded into a conflagration that consumed him. He returned, touching, brushing, and finally molding his mouth to hers. Her moan chased the last t
hought from his head. One hand tightened on her neck, drawing her closer. The other pulled her into his lap. His tongue plunged, ravaging her mouth, claiming it for his own.
Diana tried to think, tried to remember something important, but her mind would not function. Her arms had wound around his neck where her fingers already sifted through his hair. It was shorter now, but just as soft, just as silky.
The rest of him was not. Muscles clenched in his shoulders as he tightened his hold. His manhood pressed urgently against her thigh. Before she could register thought, he surged to his feet, pulling her hard against him. Her mind shut down, and she was left with nothing but sensation…
The smooth caress of his tongue, teasing, taunting, arrogantly demanding possession, flushing her skin with heat that pooled deep in her stomach… Shock stabbing through her soul as he touched the hard tip of one breast, rolling it between a thumb and finger, melting the bones in her knees…
Twin moans echoed across the clearing. Their kisses grew hotter, deeper, wetter – plundering kisses that ravaged both her mouth and his. Not until she felt a matching wetness between her legs did she recoil.
“No!”
“You want this as much as I do,” he gasped, pulling her hips tight against him. Passion and need swirled through eyes blank of any intelligence.
“No!”
She pushed frantically against his shoulders, terrified that he was too absorbed to stop. Dear God! How had she let him seduce her again? Her own need was betraying her. Never had it been this strong. He had gained much experience in ten years – to her detriment.
“No,” she sobbed. “Please, no.”
He stilled for several seconds. His breathing was as ragged as hers, but he stared into her eyes and sighed, reluctantly dropping his arms to free her. It cost him. She could see it and was grateful that he complied, but it boded ill for the future.
Backpedaling toward her horse, she scrubbed at the tears rolling down her cheeks. He was more dangerous than ever, because it was true. She wanted him. But he was the one man who could breach the walls around her heart. She couldn’t take that chance. So she must avoid him.
