by Tarah Scott
Nicholas eased her legs apart and nudged inside. His heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t think. All that mattered was her, and being inside her. In one mighty thrust, he drove hilt deep. Her cry ripped through the haze, and he stilled, the truth crashing down on him like carriage plummeting down a ravine.
“Josephine?”
She lay motionless beneath him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
Still no answer.
He lifted up on his elbows and looked down at her. “Where were you tonight?”
She hesitated, and for an instant he wondered what else she could possibly be hiding, then she said, “I went to the chapel to pray.”
Nicholas stared, startled by the admission and the forlorn note in her voice. Had he really driven her to such depths of unhappiness? Guilt crashed down around him. He’d thought she had betrayed him with another man, a true lover. Instead, she had been on her knees seeking answers. Or had she been seeking comfort? Nick closed his eyes. What a fool he was.
“I’m sorry, Jo.”
“Sorry?”
He opened his eyes. She stared up at him, brow creased in uncertainty. She shifted beneath him and a jolt of pleasure reminded him that he hadn’t finished what he’d started.
“I would have been so much gentler,” he murmured.
“I am all right. Is that everything?”
He gave a strangled laugh. “Not by half.” Carefully, he pulled back, then thrust gently.
“Oh,” Jo murmured.
“Oh, indeed,” he agreed.
Nicholas began a slow rhythm, and when she wound her arms around his back, he prayed the questions that had driven her to the chapel were forgotten. She slid her hands down his back and over his buttocks, then squeezed the hard muscle. A jolt of pleasure centered on his cock. Jo soon began meeting his thrusts with a lift of her hips and he strained to keep a steady rhythm until her breath came in short pants.
To his satisfaction, she lifted one leg and angled her hips slightly to the left to give him better access. He increased his speed, gritting his teeth against the intense need to drive so deep he touched her womb with his climax. He became aware of his own heavy breathing sawing in and out of his chest, and nearly exploded. Then, thankfully, he heard her cry of release as her fingers dug into the flesh of his buttocks. At last, he gave in to his climax in one great spasm that shook his body with a shudder unlike any he’d ever experienced.
Chapter Ten
Josephine shivered in pleasure and something strange rippled through her at the sound of Nick’s guttural groan of release. Her heart raced. She’d never seen such raw male power as she had when his muscles strained with every stroke of his member inside her, then the instant he went taut as his pleasure overtook him.
Nicholas lifted his head from her neck and kissed her so sweetly she wanted to weep. He slid off of her and pulled her back flush against his warm body, arm tight around her. She couldn’t hurt this man, couldn’t allow Lord Wylst to put him in a position where he could blackmail him, for Nick would do everything the baron asked to keep her secret. And Lord Wylst was right. Come what may, Nicholas would never kill him once he learned the truth.
In the morning, she had to end things. Josephine jammed shut her eyes in an effort to halt the tears. This would be the only time she felt Nick’s arms around her. Her stomach clenched. They still had the night. She prayed he would remember her like this...would forgive her. She would take this memory with her into the nothingness that lay beyond. But until then...
Jo turned is his arms and he pulled her closer. Even in sleep, he protected her. She listened to his even breathing for a long while before at last pressing a kiss against his bare chest. A tremor rippled through her when his arms tightened around her. She slid her mouth along the hard muscle to his nipple, then flicked her tongue against the hard peak as he had hers. Did he feel the same pleasure she did?
Jo became aware of his growing erection. Her heart thumped. Aye, he felt pleasure as she did. Nicholas groaned and she knew these last few hours would be theirs. He rolled on top of her and she was lost.
* * *
When Nicholas saw Josephine he was going to have a long talk with her. It was tea time and he had yet to come down from her room. He told himself she had slept in, too exhausted for a day of parties after their lovemaking last night, and was pleased with the idea. What he wasn’t pleased with was the story George Halloway was telling him about the ladies’ encounter with the highwayman.
The marchioness had omitted several key details when she recounted the tale to them yesterday. Nick knew Jo had disobeyed her mother in not returning with the other ladies to the castle, but she hadn’t told them how she had tried to engage the highwayman—or how the marchioness herself had saved her daughter by physically assaulting the highwayman who had targeted Jo.
“Forgive me for interrupting.” Annabel stepped up beside Nicholas.
“You are never interrupting, Miss Knightly,” Halloway said.
She smiled. “You are too kind. May I speak with Lord Grayson for a moment?”
Halloway bowed. “I will leave you two alone.”
Annabel canted her head. “Thank you, sir.”
Nicholas wondered at the worry lines around her eyes. His concern was confirmed when she waited until Halloway had joined another group several paces away before she said. “Have you seen Josephine today?”
“No. I assumed she was resting after yesterday’s events.”
“I assumed the same and went to her room. She isn’t there. I checked with the kitchen. She took breakfast at ten, but no one has seen her since.”
“That was four hours ago,” Nickolas said.
“My lord, Josephine has a small letterbox in which she keeps her most precious possessions.”
The sudden change of subject startled him.
“The box contains five items: the pearl necklace our father gave her, a silly handkerchief I made for her when I was ten, the fleur de lys diamond brooch you gave her upon your return, and the two letters you sent while away.”
“My letters?” he blurted. “She kept those all these years?”
“Not only did she keep them, but she often carries the letterbox with her, just as she did to this house party.”
“And the brooch I gave her.” His chest expanded with emotion. “I had no idea.”
“I suspect no one else knows, in fact,” Annabel said, then added without preamble, “My lord, I am something of a sneak.”
Nicholas blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am certain Josephine does not know that I am aware of the letterbox’s existence. You see, I never quite broke the habit I had as child of, well, going through her things.”
Nicholas commanded the laughter that tugged at his mouth into submission. “I see.”
She gave a serene smile completely devoid of remorse. “I do have some sense—I am not as bad as I used to be. But the five years difference between Josephine and I was a great source of frustration to me in my younger years. I felt she was privileged to do all the things she wanted, while I was bound by rigid rules. The fancy was a little sister’s envy, of course, but in my youthful anger I struck back by prying into her private affairs at every opportunity—which was fairly often. I was quite good at it, so she never suspected.”
“Just as she doesn’t suspect now,” he said.
Her expression sobered. “In truth, my lord, the only reason I pried today was because of a sense of unease that I haven’t been able to shed.”
Nicholas was beginning to know how she felt.
“I fear I was correct, she said. “The letterbox is empty.”
“Empty? I did see her wearing the pearls.”
Annabel nodded. “Two days ago. If only the pearls were missing from the letterbox, I would not wonder. But for the mementos to be gone, as well, is strange.”
“Why?”
“She may carry the box with her, but she would not empty the
contents and leave the box behind.”
Nicholas had to admit, it struck him oddly as well. He might think she had decided to dispose of the letters and brooch in a fit of anger at him, but she would never part with the necklace her father had given her, nor the handkerchief her sister had sewn.
“She never goes anywhere for any length of time without those items,” Annabel said.
“What are you saying?”
“I believe she is planning to run away.”
“Run away?”
Lady Allaway’s eyes cut to him and he realized he’d spoken the word louder than intended. Nicholas lightly grasped Annabel’s elbow and escorted her from the parlor into the hallway where he took several steps from the doorway before stopping.
“Where could she possibly go?” he asked.
“She could disappear in London or even Paris and live modestly. Our parents have given her trinkets over the years that could sustain her for some time.”
“Disappear? She may have her misgivings about our marriage, but surely not so much so that she would disappear from our lives?” Especially not after last night, he mentally added. “Not to mention, I can’t believe she would sell that necklace. It means too much to her.”
“It certainly wouldn’t be the first to go,” Annabel replied. “But Josephine is a practical woman and, you will forgive me for saying so, my lord, but she does seem determined not to marry you.”
“Aye,” he agreed with an increasing sense of disquiet. “Have you any idea why?” He had spent little time with Annabel and it hadn’t occurred to him she might have some insight into her sister’s behavior.
Annabel shook her head. “I am sorry to say, I do not. I know she loves you.”
“What?”
She gave him a gentle smile. “Even a child could see it.”
How could he doubt she loved after last night? And how could Jo possibly consider running away after last night? She couldn’t.
“Annabel, Jo is not a fool. I can’t believe she would be so imprudent as to leave. And,” he hesitated, “I believe she and I have come to an understanding.”
Her gaze sharpened and unexpected heat rose in his face. Surely, the girl couldn’t discern his meaning? But the girl, he realized, was a young woman of eighteeen, and no fool.
She placed a hand on his arm. “Sir, I do not know why Josephine is so unhappy, but I do know that she is.”
The forthright assessment—and its accuracy—sent a wave of alarm through him.
She withdrew her hand. “If you will tell me that whatever passed between you and my sister has healed her, I will take your word.”
She said no more, but Nicholas knew she was too genteel too say But what if you are wrong?
Chapter Eleven
Josephine rested a hand on the parapet of Barthmont Keep and gazed out across the hills at loch Ness. She had known it would be difficult to leave everyone she loved but, after last night with Nicholas, she wondered if she would be able to go through with her plan. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped from her chest. That was exactly what was happening. Jo closed her eyes. She couldn’t lie to herself. There was no turning back—especially after last night. She had to go where no one could find her, to a place where there was no turning back...a place where her presence couldn’t harm her family.
Everyone would believe it was an accident. Her family might doubt but, in the end, they would accept the lesser evil. Loch Ness was a place one could easily drown.
Josephine drew in a shaky breath, then opened her eyes and soaked in the majestic sight for the last time. Never again would she see the sun rise up over these blue waters, or smell the heather on a spring morning. Neither would she feel Nicholas close as she had last night, his arms tight around her, as if the world couldn’t touch them. But the world could touch them and, given the chance, would destroy him and his love for her.
For the thousandth time she considered telling her father the truth...or Nicholas, her heart whispered. A tremor rippled through her. How wonderful it would be slip the burden onto his broad shoulders—and he would take the weight without hesitation. She knew Nicholas too well. He would sacrifice his reputation and marry her, despite the scandal and the fact he would be ostracized from society once everyone learned the truth.
Her father, however, stood to lose that which he could never regain: his trust in the woman he loved. Anger burned hotly. In all this, her mother would not pay one bit. Josephine tamped down on the desire to find and confront her mother. Knowledge of her mother’s betrayal was the price she had to pay to protect her family. And her mother, if Jo were honest, had been good to her father.
Josephine turned and left the tower.
She reached the second floor minutes later and glanced out the hall window as she passed, then stopped short at seeing Nicholas on the path leading toward the stables. Her pulse leaped. His purposeful stride bespoke of the determination that pervaded even his smallest action. Dark trousers went taut across his thighs with each long step he took. Josephine recalled too vividly those powerful thighs and the feel of his skin against hers when he entered her. She would give anything to touch him like that once more, feel his arms tighten around her as his rod stroked the most private part of her body. A shiver raced across her arms. She hadn’t known she could feel that way. That a woman could shatter in a man’s arms.
Josephine startled at the realization that she was crying. She told herself to turn from the window. Watching him was pure torture. But she had to have these last moments, even if they were from afar. She had to drink in the sight of him. This had to carry her through to the end.
Nick slowed and looked over his shoulder. He stared at something. Then his gaze lifted. Josephine froze. Could he see her? Yes. But surely he couldn’t recognize her in the dim light of the hallway? She couldn’t discern his expression. Was he staring at her or something else? He whirled back toward the castle.
Her heart pounded wildly. He had not only seen her, but recognized her. What difference did it make? He glanced up again and she knew that somehow, for some reason, it did make a difference. Panic seized her. What a fool she’d been to indulge in this final luxury. She couldn’t allow herself to see him again.
Josephine stumbled forward. She could still slip out the servants’ entrance as planned and—and what? If Nicholas was looking for her that could—would—disrupt her plans. Nothing, not one detail, could run afoul or she risked her family knowing the truth, and that would be even more disastrous a situation than the one she was already in.
She reached the stairs and hurried down. If she could reach her room, she could lock the door and feign a headache. Nicholas might not like it, but he wouldn’t break down her door—she hoped. At the bottom of the stairs she turned left in the hallway toward the common stairs leading to the first floor. Jo collided with what felt like a brick wall.
“Damn you, girl.”
Her blood went cold. Lord Wylst.
Josephine took two steps backward. “I-I am sorry.” She started past him, but he seized her arm.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
She gave a derisive laugh. “Surely you do not think I want to be in your company?”
His grip tightened. “There is more to your haste than hating me.”
“You arrogant ass. You simply cannot believe someone could loathe you as I do.”
“Hate me all you like. But I’m no idiot. Something else is wrong.”
“Re-lease me.” Josephine yanked free of his hold and lunged past him.
He grabbed her arm again and swung her back around him. The brooch she had put in a pouch inside her pocket dug into her thigh when her side slammed against him.
“What’s that?” He reached between them and fumbled with the pocket.
“How dare you?” Josephine slapped him.
His head snapped up, eyes glittering with fury. “I promise, you will pay for that.”
He shoved his hand into her pocket and pulle
d out the pouch.
“Lord Wylst,” she began, but he shoved her aside.
She sprang toward him, but he had the pouch open and had pulled the brooch from inside. The diamond and sapphire pin glistened in the meager sunlight that filtered through the small high window above the crest and swords mounted on the wall.
He looked at her. “You were hiding this from me.”
“I do not have to hide it from you. Now give it back.” She extended her hand.
He ignored her and peered into the pouch. “What else have you got in here?”
“Nothing that would interest you,” she said. But her most prized possessions were inside the bag. A handkerchief Annabel had sewn for her when she was ten, and the two letters Nicholas had written her while he was away. Not to mention, two rings, which she needed.
Lord Wylst pulled the handkerchief from inside. He glanced at it, then tossed it aside. Josephine scrambled to pick it up from the stone floor, then jumped to her feet.
“Give me that.” She tried to grab the pouch, but he turned as he pulled the letters out. “They are just letters,” she said. “They mean nothing to you.”
“You have no idea what has meaning to me.”
He withdrew one letter from the envelope and heat crept up Josephine’s cheeks as he silently read it. When he looked up, she didn’t like the feral gleam in his eyes.
“So Grayson has pined for you all these years.”
“We were young when he wrote those.”
“That only means he will be all the more determined to protect you.”
That he would, Jo silently agreed.
Lord Wylst handed her the letters and dumped the rest of the pouch’s contents onto his hand. One ruby ring sat alongside a sapphire and diamond ring on his palm. He looked at her. “Well, well, you have been holding back.” He put the rings and brooch inside the pouch. “These, I will keep.”
