A Dangerous Game
By
Julia Templeton
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
A Dangerous Game
by
Julia Templeton
Previously published by Cerridwen Press, 2005
Copyright 2012 © Julia Templeton
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Cover art and illustration by Kim Killion
Digital formatting by Lasting Impressions eBook Creations
Chapter One
London, 1819
The moment was at hand.
Nicolette glanced at Salvatore, her partner and best friend, pretending she didn’t feel the piercing eyes of two hundred and thirty-seven aristocrats on her.
“The world-renowned musicians—Salvatore Casale and Nicolette Rockwell!” The footman’s voice reverberated off the high ceiling of the ballroom.
Nicolette squared her shoulders as whispers spread quickly throughout the room. She knew what they said. She and Salvatore were by-blows of wealthy English lords, mistakes to be locked away forever. True, she may be a marquess’s bastard, but she was wealthy, and she had done it all on her own with no help from the father who’d turned his back on her the day she was born.
And why should she care what the ton thought of her? After all, her gown was made from as fine a silk as any of the other women present. Her hair glimmered with diamonds, a gift from one of her many admirers who refused to take back the beautiful gems.
Nicolette took everything in. The long, narrow ballroom, the musicians playing on the elaborate stage, London’s elite spread out beneath four enormous gold-plated chandeliers. She scanned the crowd, looking for the man she must enchant. A man who must become so enamored of her, he would risk everything—even marriage to the greatest heiress in all of England.
She nodded at the people they passed, watching as women whispered behind their fans, their eyes not wavering from Salvatore, her incredibly handsome friend. Salvatore had an exotic quality, rare in men. His beauty drew women like moths to a flame. His long, dark hair shone brilliantly under the lights, his golden eyes framed by long, black lashes, which Nicolette teased belonged on a woman instead of a man. Those light eyes could hypnotize any woman. Even when he was young, his power over the opposite sex had been obvious.
“There he is. In the doorway, the tall one,” Salvatore said, his voice unusually tense, his hold on her tightening.
Nicolette followed his gaze to a set of double doors off to the right. Her heart skittered at her first glimpse of Darian Tremayne, Earl of Kedgwick. Short, brown hair framed arresting features; square jaw, aquiline nose, and dark eyes—eyes the same shape as Salvatore’s.
In his hand he held a glass, and as he brought it to his lips, his eyes met hers over the rim. Her stomach clenched in a tight knot. He was more striking than she had imagined. Her confidence wavered. She glanced at the women who clustered nearby, their gazes smoldering as they stared at the powerful man who seemed aware of their scrutiny, his gaze flitting over them in a callous way that made her blood run cold.
“Do not be too obvious,” Salvatore murmured. “Men enjoy the chase. He is watching our every move, so it is apparent he is taken with you.”
All her life she’d heard of Darian Tremayne, Salvatore’s older, legitimate brother. Salvatore resented the man who’d been lavished with their father’s wealth, title and attention, while he and his mother had been abandoned and left to starve on the streets of London.
“Look, here comes his bride-to-be.”
Nicolette’s gaze followed Salvatore’s to a petite blonde making her way toward Darian. Dressed in a mignonette-green ball gown with satin trimmings and puffed sleeves, Elizabeth Dutton, the daughter of the Duke of Durham, with her pinched features and beady eyes could not be considered a beauty by any means...which made things easier for Nicolette and her mission.
During the next hour Nicolette mingled and danced, while keeping an eye on Darian as he played the perfect gentleman to his fiancée. Elizabeth appeared completely enamored of her future husband, if her vibrant smile and robust laughter were any indication.
They were perfectly suited. Wealthy beyond measure, Darian and Elizabeth had never wanted for anything in their lives, which meant these two incredibly spoiled individuals wholeheartedly deserved each other. While they had been pampered, she had lived a life of poverty, sharing a lumpy cot with Salvatore, while listening to the sounds of whores pleasuring their patrons. Their only escape had been music.
“It appears our fun has ended for now. We are being summoned by Lady Perrin.” Salvatore motioned toward their vivacious host, a rotund woman known for her heavy drinking and loose tongue.
Nicolette took a deep, calming breath as they made their way through the crowd to the stage. Though she had played before kings and queens and not suffered from nerves, tonight was different. She needed to enchant Darian Tremayne, to seduce him right beneath his fiancée’s nose. Elizabeth’s father, a man known for his strict moral code, had made it perfectly clear that Darian, a rakehell with a penchant for voluptuous actresses, was to remain faithful to his wife-to-be. Any indiscretion and the wedding would be called off.
As Nicolette took her place at the piano, she ran her fingers lightly over the familiar keys. She smiled softly, feeling the tension slowly fade. The piano was like an old friend. At the lowest point of her life it had become her salvation, and she owed it all to Salvatore. He’d taught her how to play—how to feel every chord to the very depths of her soul. She nodded at her partner, who stood with violin at the ready. Their gazes locked. Salvatore smiled softly, she began to play, and as always, her eyes closed of their own accord as she gave herself over to the music.
*****
Salvatore watched Darian, who stood apart from the crowd, leaning against the back wall, a drink in hand. His brother, the esteemed Earl of Kedgwick. The man who had been blessed with legitimacy.
Already Darian was captivated with Nicolette. From the moment they had started to play, his brother had not moved a muscle, his gaze riveted on her. Salvatore knew the look in the other man’s eyes—desire. He had grown accustomed to the attention directed at Nicolette since she had matured into a young woman. Now it appeared that even his brother was not immune to her charms.
If Nicolette could stop Darian’s upcoming marriage, then he would have the revenge he had dreamed of since his father abandoned him and his mother. Word had it the old bastard, while on his deathbed, made Darian promise he would marry the Duke of Durham’s
daughter, Elizabeth, thereby joining together two of the most influential families of the ton.
Salvatore smiled to himself, imagining his father rolling over in his grave when that union did not take place—and how furious the countess would be when the Kedgwick name was once again scandalized.
Salvatore glanced to Darian’s right, to Elizabeth. For an instant she looked away, but then peeked his way again. Salvatore held her gaze and she shifted, a blush racing from her neck to her cheeks. He smiled at the woman before turning toward Nicolette whose eyes were still closed.
How striking his Nic was. Her beautiful, classic features had been the inspiration behind many of the scores he wrote. How lost he would be without her in his world. Together they had conquered Europe, playing in every large city to a full house.
It seemed like yesterday she’d wore her hair plaited and raced about in boys’ clothing. Overnight she had blossomed into a striking woman that made men stop and stare. Waist-length, silky auburn curls that floated when she walked had replaced the braids of her youth. Long, thick lashes framed her large, green, almond-shaped eyes. She had a small upturned nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and a long, slender neck, which gave way to full breasts that made her small waist appear even tinier. Indeed, Nicolette had no idea of her power over the opposite sex.
Lord help him when she did.
As though sensing his gaze, Nicolette opened her eyes, and her lips curved into a soft smile. His heart warmed with love for this woman who was partner, friend and constant companion.
She never complained about the tedious life they lived, the constant traveling, the constant entertaining, the constant practice and push to do better. Already they had been accepted into all the finest homes of Europe’s aristocrats. Though they were wealthier than they’d ever dreamed, this life was not for the faint of heart, and he wondered if, like him, she yearned for a life of stability.
*****
Nicolette couldn’t stop trembling. As Salvatore steered her past the swelling crowd and out the double doors onto the veranda, she tried to convince herself she had iron control over her emotions. Yet, with every passing moment, it was obvious that she was not as prepared to seduce Darian Tremayne as she’d thought. She must gather her thoughts and remember her focus.
“He could not take his eyes from you the entire time. You should have seen his face. He was clearly mesmerized.” Salvatore’s smile was triumphant as he looked down at her. “This is proving to be easier than I imagined.”
“I am not so sure I can do this.”
He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “I would never force you to do something you do not want to do. If you desire, we can leave now and never look back.”
She met his unwavering gaze and knew he meant every word. Salvatore would never hurt her—or make her do anything against her will. He had been her only family since her mother’s death nine years ago. Since that time, he’d supported her in everything she’d chosen to do, and now it was her time to pay him back for all he’d done. She sighed heavily. “I’m fine. My confidence is just beginning to waver.”
The words brought a renewed smile to Salvatore’s lips. “Nic, you are the most beautiful woman here, and it is common knowledge Darian Tremayne cannot resist a gorgeous woman, particularly an auburn-haired, green-eyed Venus.”
She rolled her eyes. “You forget I am immune to your charm.”
He laid a hand over his heart and attempted to appear hurt, but failed miserably. “I am serious, Nic.
Truly, you have more fire in you than any other woman. A man would be a fool to deny you.” If only she had Salvatore’s confidence. “I certainly hope you are right.”
“You are ever the courageous one,” he said with a light laugh, hugging her to him.
She rested her head against his shoulder, taking the comfort that only he could give. How many times had he been there for her? All her life she’d been able to rely on only one person, and that was Salvatore. Only he knew the hell her life had been. A life as a bastard, always watching those fortunate souls of the ton who held the titles, the wealth, the prestige—while she and Salvatore had lived in a shabby brothel, eating scraps, yearning for the day they would escape.
“Please forgive us. We did not mean to interrupt.”
The deep voice startled Nicolette out of her thoughts. She turned to find Darian Tremayne and his fiancée watching her and Salvatore intently.
Nicolette’s pulse skittered to have the man she was to seduce, standing before her in the flesh. A shadow fell across his face, hiding all but his dark eyes, which held her pinned to the spot. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It seemed at that moment he could see all the way to her soul.
“You did not interrupt us,” Salvatore said, breaking the awkward silence. Releasing Nicolette, he stepped forward and lifted Elizabeth’s hand to his lips. Lady Elizabeth, it is an honor to meet you at long last.
The woman’s cheeks blazed crimson.
Salvatore glanced at his brother. “And you as well, Lord Kedgwick.”
Darian’s arrogant gaze shifted from Nicolette to Salvatore, his lips quirking in a sly smile. How she yearned to slap that smile clean off his face.
“You were exceptional,” Darian said, his gaze returning to hers, before dropping to the low décolletage of her gown.
At her side Salvatore straightened and cleared his throat. “Thank you, my lord.”
Elizabeth stared at Salvatore. “You are most talented.”
“Thank you, Lady Elizabeth,” Salvatore replied, pulling Nicolette up against him.
Darian finally turned his attention to Salvatore. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
Doing his best to look perplexed, Salvatore shook his head. “I doubt it. Nicolette and I grew up in London, but I have to believe we frequented different establishments than you.”
“Perhaps you played at White’s?”
Salvatore shook his head. “Never.”
“Watiers’?”
“Sorry. We have not been in London for years. We’ve spent most of our time in France.”
Darian’s gaze strayed to the large windows where couples danced by. “Elizabeth was just telling me that she would love to dance with you.”
Elizabeth frowned up at her intended. “I did?”
Darian nodded.
“Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?” Salvatore asked, dropping Nicolette’s hand and extending his arm for the duke’s daughter.
Nicolette watched in strained silence as the two disappeared into the throng of dancers, ever aware of the earl’s dark eyes assessing her. In all her eighteen years, she had never been so nervous. Being an entertainer, she had never been the quiet type, and always adapted to any given situation. But this was not just any given situation.
“Tell me, Miss—”
“Nicolette.”
He smiled as though amused, obviously unaccustomed to women using their Christian name. No doubt he thought her unladylike for doing so. “Very well...Nicolette, who taught you to play like that?” The way he said her name was almost like a caress.
“Salvatore taught me,” she replied.
A dark brow lifted in surprise. “Truly?”
She nodded, wishing Salvatore would hurry up and make his way back to her. “He plays several instruments, quite brilliantly, in fact. The violin is his favorite. One day he was working on a score, and he asked for my help. I caught on quickly and from that moment on, I knew I wanted to be a musician.”
His gaze once again strayed to her neckline. “It is obvious you enjoy what you do.”
“Indeed, I am most fortunate,” she replied, glancing past him, hoping to see Salvatore walking her way. She saw him on the dance floor and smiled. There was an elegance about Salvatore that many men lacked. Per
haps it was his musical background that gave him the gift to dance better than most. Whatever it was, he had the ability to draw women to wherever they went. In fact, even from where Nicolette stood, she could see the clusters of women watching him, wanting him.
“Are you in London for long?” Darian asked, bringing Nicolette’s attention back to him. His gaze was so intense she shifted on her feet. She could not wait to escape this man. If only there was another way.
“I can’t say for certain. We have several engagements, but Salvatore does not like to stay in one place for long. He bores easily.”
“And you.” His gaze wandered down her length, assessing her like she was prized horseflesh. “Do you become bored as well?”
She bit into her lower lip, fighting the urge to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his too-intimate stare. “At times I become bored, but not nearly as much as Salvatore.”
“Is he your lover?”
His abrupt question made her falter. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. He laughed, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I did not mean to offend.”
Now she could add liar to his list of faults, because he most certainly had meant to offend. She squared her shoulders. Who did he think he was? Just because he was part of the aristocracy didn’t mean he could ask her such an intimate question. He would have never been so bold with any other woman present. But she was a bastard, and therefore, rude questions could be asked without thought of consequence. In his world, she was beneath him—a servant, a mere musician, meant for his amusement.
With a flick of her wrist, she opened her fan to cool her heated cheeks, hoping that she at least appeared composed when she felt anything but. “My private life is none of your concern.” Revenge or no revenge, if she stayed a moment longer in his company she would surely say something she’d regret. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she walked past him.
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