Salvatore flashed his most charming smile. “I would never hit you, Charlotte. Though I might just bang you.”
Nicolette choked back a glib remark.
The widow bit into her lower lip.
Nauseated with the two, Nicolette put all her concentration into the game and within minutes the widow was out. Darian’s gaze on her made her so unsettled that even when Salvatore tried to get her to smile, she scowled at him.
If only she could seduce Darian the way Charlotte seduced Salvatore, who even now stood at the sidelines, watching him like a bitch in heat. Nicolette swung and hit the ball, which in turn hit the stake, making her the winner. Applause sounded all around her, Salvatore’s, as always, the loudest.
Salvatore kissed her hand, and she quickly pulled away. “I’m going to talk to him.” Without awaiting his response, she walked straight for Darian. Speaking to the womanizing earl was better than listening to the provocative banter going on between Salvatore and Charlotte.
Darian pushed away from the tree. His gaze swept the length of her, lingering at her legs. She guessed he was not accustomed to women foregoing their undergarments, save for their shift, as was all the rage in Paris. Only on a warm day like today did she dare do so in England.
Now she wished she had piled on the petticoats, feeling naked as Darian’s dark eyes burned with a fire she found unsettling.
How she yearned to be anywhere else.
“Lord Kedgwick,” she said, stopping a few feet from him.
He stepped forward and reached for her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles before he kissed it. She wore no gloves, and again, she wished she would have, at least this once, followed decorum.
“Nicolette, what a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you would be attending the party. I must say your presence will make the week bearable.” He finally released her hand.
“Your mother said our presence was to be a surprise.”
“And what a nice surprise it is. In the space of a few moments my enthusiasm for the days ahead has increased tenfold.”
Uncomfortable with his predatory gaze, she looked toward the manor. “Is your bride-to-be here yet?”
His smile quickly turned into a frown. “Lady Elizabeth is up at the house. She does not care to spend much time in the sun.”
She glanced back at Salvatore. Though he conversed with a group of women, Lady Mariweather included, she could tell he watched her from the corner of his eye. If he could flirt, then so could she. She lifted her chin a fraction. “Does she not own a parasol?”
“The sun tires her,” he said, taking a step closer.
Every nerve in Nicolette’s body told her to run as far and as fast as she could. Do it for Salvatore. With that single thought racing through her mind, she stood anchored to the spot, meeting his hot stare with one she hoped mirrored his.
Dear God this was harder than she’d thought it would be.
Nicolette arched a brow as she’d seen Lady Mariweather do moments before. “What a shame. It must be difficult when you like to spend time outdoors.” She lifted her face and closed her eyes, stretching her neck in a way the heroine in one of her steamy novels did to gain a male admirer’s attention. “I love the sun. I like when its rays cast a golden glow upon my skin.”
When she opened her eyes, the heat she saw in the earl’s dark gaze made her take a quick step back. “I could never understand why a woman should not be able to sport tan skin like a man. One appears so much healthier with a bronzed tone, do you not agree?”
He took another step toward her, forcing her to bend her head back to look at him. “It appears that you were born the wrong gender, Nicolette, for you yearn for a man’s life.”
She laughed, the sound more nervous than light. “A man’s life, indeed. Yes, you are probably right. After all, it is the male heir who receives the title, the money, the honor, not to mention the home,” she said, nodding toward the manor. “Yours, I might add, is quite extraordinary.”
“How do you find your room?”
“My room is exquisite and the bed is very soft,” she whispered.
His smile faded. “I would like to spend time with you this week...to make up for my lack of decorum on our last meeting. Perhaps we can—”
“Tell me, Kedgwick, do you wish to marry?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looked toward his grazing horse, then back at her. Still he said nothing. “Your silence must mean you are uncertain. If you do not wish to marry, then why do you?”
His gaze locked with hers. “It is my duty.”
“And will you take a lover?” she blurted, unable to keep the malice from her tone.
His look of shock lasted a brief moment, and then he laughed under his breath. “I do not pretend to know what will happen.” His gaze wandered to the low décolletage of her gown. No doubt from his height he could see more than most.
Heat raced up her neck. She had to force herself not to cross her hands over her chest. “I would take lovers.” She added the plural for emphasis.
He stepped toward her once again, and this time, reached out and slowly smoothed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment. “Would you now?” He was so close; their lips mere inches apart.
Nicolette took an abrupt step away, and hid her nervousness with a coy smile. Where was Salvatore? “If I did not desire to marry that person, then why should I sleep with only him for the rest of my life?”
“Do you think you will ever marry?”
She shrugged. “It depends.”
“On?”
His brow furrowed. “If I fall in love.”
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Love is a fanciful notion, one that holds little precedence in marriage, particularly an arranged one.”
“That is the difference between our worlds, Kedgwick. I should say on this particular occasion that I am the luckier one. Though you may have been brought up in wealth, and I in poverty, at least I am free to choose whom I so please.”
“Then you are most fortunate.”
She nodded. “Indeed, I am.”
Darian glanced past her shoulder and frowned. “Look, here comes your lover now.”
Before she could respond, Salvatore was at her side, sliding an arm around her waist. Though she would never admit it to him, she was relieved he’d interrupted. He then turned and fixed her necklace, making sure the clasp fell to the back of her neck. The gesture was an intimate one, and Nicolette noted Darian’s scowl as he watched them.
“We must have a rematch, my dear,” Salvatore said, the hand that had been adjusting her necklace, now caressing her jaw, clearly in an effort to irritate his brother. “She is positively wicked at croquet, Kedgwick. You must play with her sometime.”
The words held a double entendre that the earl did not miss.
“I have every intention of doing just that,” Darian said, his words implying something other than playing croquet.
Salvatore straightened at his words, and lifted a dark brow. “Where is that little bride of yours?”
“Elizabeth is resting.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Salvatore answered, casually picking an imaginary string from the bodice of Nicolette’s gown.
Darian appeared ready to come out of his skin. The nerve in his jaw jerked. “I’m sure Elizabeth will be delighted to see you both—if she decides to leave her room.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Salvatore looked at the manor. “One can hardly blame her for holding up in her quarters in a home as grand as yours. You are a lucky man to have both a beautiful home and a beautiful fiancée.”
“I am fortunate,” Darian said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Salvatore nodded. “Fortunate—now that is an understatement.” He looked down at Nico
lette once again and they shared a smile. “Well, Nic, I suppose we should mingle with the other guests. There is a certain viscount who desires to meet you.” He winked at her before he turned his attention to Darian. “It is good to see you again, Kedgwick. We look forward to the days ahead.”
“As do I,” Darian replied, his gaze fastening on Nicolette.
That dark stare said more than words ever could. He wanted her. Feeling sick to her stomach, Nicolette gladly took the hand Salvatore offered and walked away.
Chapter Three
It was early evening when Nicolette saw Darian again.
He stood outside on the veranda. It was a quiet night, the sky a dark gray. The light from a flickering flame cast a glow on the earl, who appeared completely at ease in the solitude.
For a moment Nicolette considered letting him be, but realizing it was a rare opportunity to be alone with him, she took a deep breath, pushed open the double doors and walked out.
Darian turned abruptly, his gaze sliding slowly down her body, reminding her yet again of his dangerous reputation as a rakehell. The earl’s lovers were reported to be in the hundreds. How could one man who was still young, have made love to so many women? No wonder every time she saw him, he seemed to undress her with his eyes. Did that mean her attempt at seduction was working thus far?
“Nicolette, you are stunning as always.”
At least he noticed her efforts, especially since the maid had worked tirelessly on styling her too-wavy hair, and the silk gown she wore had cost her a week’s pay. “And you look handsome.”
He seemed pleased by the compliment. “I was wondering if you would make it down for dinner tonight.” His gaze slipped from hers, to the diamond necklace that rested near the swell of her breasts.
Did the man not realize how rude he was being, staring at her in such a way? He could at least attempt to be discreet, for goodness sake. “Why would I not attend?”
He shrugged. “I thought perhaps you would be too tired from your journey.”
Despite the fact his gaze stayed riveted on her breasts, she managed to smile. “You forget that I am used to traveling. I enjoyed the trip since the weather was cooperative, and it gave me time to catch up on my reading.”
His brows lifted.
“It surprises you that I can read?”
“A little.”
What an arrogant ass he was. “Well, I will have you know I write poetry and music as well.”
“I was not demeaning you in any way,” he said, a sly smile on his face that completely contradicted his words. “I understand your life has not been an easy one, and I would never belittle a person for not having the same privileges as others. But I must say that I admire you...and Salvatore as well.”
The anger she felt lessened under his thoughtful gaze and she tried to relax. “I did not come out here in search of compliments. I came to ask you if you would like to hear any particular song tonight. After all, the party is in your honor.”
She saw the look of surprise flash in his eyes before he quickly masked it.
“You choose for me,” he replied, taking a step toward her, pulling her roughly to him.
Every inch of his hard body was pressed flush against her, so close she could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest. He captured one of her hands within his own, and to her utter horror, he pulled it down to his manhood, pressing her hand against the hard ridge of his erection. “Feel what you do to me, Nicolette.”
She was ready to scream when his mouth covered hers, his tongue thrusting past her lips. “Darian, it is time for dinner!” a woman said from behind Nicolette.
Darian released her abruptly, his wild gaze shifting from her to his mother.
The countess glared at Nicolette, before she turned on her heel and went back inside. Darian reached for her again, but Nicolette stepped back.
“Pick a song for me...just for me,” he whispered, before heading in the direction his mother had gone.
*****
Salvatore glanced up at the plaster ceiling with its three-dimensional images and wondered how much his great-great-grandfather had spent on the rendering. In his estimation, it had been far too much. His money would have been better spent on redecorating the all-pink drawing room’s walls and furnishings, which had been overdone to the extreme.
Darian’s mother approached Salvatore, her forced smile in place. “Salvatore, I believe your partner is out on the veranda with my son.”
“Thank you, Lady Kedgwick,” Salvatore replied with a curt nod, noting the venom in the countess’s voice.
Salvatore had gone to Nicolette’s room to escort her down to dinner, only to find she’d left without him. Perhaps Darian had escorted her down? No, Nic would have made mention to him first—unless Darian had caught her unaware.
Stepping out on the veranda, he passed by Darian, who managed a nod. Nicolette stood looking out over the gardens, her shoulders straight, hands behind her back. He could tell by body language alone that she was deep in thought, which made him wonder what had happened in the time he had left his room until now.
“Hello, Salvatore.”
“How did you know it was me?” he asked, kissing her cheek. She smelled of lilacs, and looked stunning in a gorgeous creation of pink tulle over white silk that they had picked up in Paris. How innocent she looked with her auburn hair pulled up high, pearls weaved through the silky strands, and her green eyes and pink lips accented by a light touch of rouge.
“I know the sound of your footsteps.”
“Very impressive.”
She laughed lightly. “I’m glad you think so.”
“So, how are you this evening?”
“I am well.” Her voice lacked conviction.
“Liar.”
She looked at him under dark lashes. “You know me better than I know myself.”
He searched her face, noting the obvious. Her color was high, her lips red, swollen. She trembled as well. “What did he do?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He took her hand and led her down another path, away from the lights. “Come, tell me what happened.” Her fingers tightened within his own. “He wants me.”
He waited for the exhilaration to come, but it didn’t. Instead, he felt sick to his stomach. “Did he say as much?”
She shook her head. “No, but I can see it in his eyes...in his manner. He looks at me as though I am naked, and he wanted me to touch him intimately.”
The words hit Salvatore with a force he did not expect. He would kill the bastard!
Her eyes narrowed. “I understand your hatred toward Darian, but are we right to come between him and Elizabeth? What will come of it in the end? What if ruining this marriage means we’ll be ruining our career? We have worked too hard to get where we are now.”
He watched her for a few seconds, gauging her words. All it would take would be a single word from him and it would be over—yet, his need for revenge was so strong, it controlled his every thought. He had the ability to ruin the Kedgwick dynasty, and it was within his grasp. This revenge was something he had yearned for from the day his father had tossed his mother and him out on their ears. Still he remembered his father’s hated words—Whore, take that son of a bitch away from here. I never want to set eyes on that dark-skinned bastard again.
Salvatore shook away the memory. What if Nic was right? What if it cost them their careers? And what if Darian falls in love with Nicolette? His conscience goaded him. His throat tightened at the prospect. “I can tell the countess you are unwell. We can leave for London posthaste.”
She stopped in midstep, turned and looked him straight in the eye. “There is nothing I will not do for you. You know that?”
He nodded. “Of cou
rse.”
Her gaze searched his. “I need to ask a favor.”
His heart pounded. “Anything.”
She looked down at her feet, steadied her nerves, and then met his gaze again. “Kiss me.”
He blinked, unsure he had heard her correctly. “Sorry?”
“Darian kissed me tonight, and had it not been for his mother’s interruption, it would have gone further. I know for certain he will try again when next we meet. I have never kissed like...lovers do, and I don’t want to be shocked again.”
Salvatore’s first response was to flat-out deny her. However, he knew that if he said no, she was just reckless enough to find someone who would, and that would not do.
With his mind made up, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her on the lips. “There.” He took a quick step back.
She blinked rapidly. “That’s it?” She was clearly disappointed.
He frowned, his masculine pride injured. “I kissed you.”
“I meant a real kiss. Like men and women kiss when they are in love.” She took the step that separated them, looped her arms around his neck, lifted her chin and closed her eyes. “Now, do it right.”
Salvatore’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at her upturned face. Gone was the young sprite in boys’ clothes and pigtails. In her place was a woman full-grown, in the very flower of her youth...a beautiful woman who stirred the heart of every man that crossed her path.
His own heart trip-hammering, he leaned down and kissed her softly—once, twice, then slowly swept his tongue against the seam of her full lips. He heard her slight intake of breath and steadied himself for her to push away.
But she did not push away. Instead, she leaned into him, pressing her full breasts against his chest, and parting her lips to let him in.
His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against him as his tongue swept into the sweet recesses of her mouth. A moan escaped her as her tongue danced with his, and for a moment he lost all track of time and place. It was just the two of them, in the garden, with the sound of the fountain in the background.
A Dangerous Game Page 3
