“Salvatore,” he finished for her, squeezing the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. “No wonder you were so adamant not to marry Darian. I could not understand it. Damn, Kedgwick. That young man has always manipulated people, much like his father had.”
“I thought you were friends?”
“I knew the previous earl quite well. In truth, we ran in the same circles and even traveled abroad, but he changed after university. He seemed more corrupt, and I thought the way he treated his wife was deplorable.”
Nicolette flinched. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
“I know I have little room to talk, but know this much, Nicolette—I did love your mother, very much so. I wanted to believe that you were my child, yet she told me you were not...and I believed her. I suppose I can’t blame her. I had married by then, and she feared losing you to me, which she could have done, particularly when Henrietta and I remained childless.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nicolette saw a carriage. “Oh my goodness, is that Salvatore?” Nicolette said, squinting out at the passing landscape. Yes, there they are!”
“Stop!” Simon yelled, and the carriage stopped. Simon flung open the carriage door, and Nicolette rushed out...and then a shot fired.
And Salvatore stumbled and fell to his knees.
“No!” she screamed, her heart hammering as she ran.
Simon reached for her. “Nicolette, he is alive. He stirs. In fact, he is coming to his feet.”
Sure enough, Salvatore stood. He shook his head as though to clear it.
Nicolette held her breath, watching as Salvatore turned to face his brother, who looked almost as white as Salvatore.
Darian’s hand trembled, barely holding onto the smoking pistol, which he had shot before the signal had been given.
Simon wrapped his arm about her waist. “It is Salvatore’s turn, and Darian must not move.”
Salvatore reached up to his wounded shoulder, wiped the blood there, looked at the blood and shook his head. He took a steadying breath and lifted the pistol.
Darian trembled like a leaf. No doubt he had not been in this position before. Now he faced his greatest foe yet—his bastard brother, a man who had done nothing to him, save give him what he had wanted most, and that was a way out of a marriage he would never have been able to tolerate.
“I can’t bear it,” Nicolette whispered.
“Salvatore shall be fine, my dear.”
Though she disliked Darian, for he was a spoiled, and mean-spirited man, she did not wish him dead, but she knew what would happen if Salvatore missed.
Viscount Athenry stood, mouth open in horror. It seemed he too had not foreseen this turn of events.
Salvatore cocked the gun, pulled the trigger, shifting his aim at the last second, and firing into the air.
Darian fell to his knees, his breath coming in gasps. The viscount made a shrill sound before running a hand over his face. Salvatore stood where he was.
Simon clapped his hands, and Salvatore and Darian looked to him. “Well done, Salvatore.”
“It is Kedgwick’s turn to shoot,” the viscount said, his voice tinged with excitement.
“This duel is done. Your friend is lucky that he did not lose his life this day. Not only did he pull the trigger before the signal was given, his brother spared him his life.” Simon nodded for the surgeon to help Salvatore.
“His brother?” the viscount said, his gaze raking over Salvatore. “You can’t mean that he,” he motioned to Salvatore, “is Kedgwick’s brother?”
“Indeed, that is exactly what I mean. Salvatore is the son of Franklin Tremayne.”
The viscount’s eyes widened.
Salvatore lay propped against a tree, and Nicolette kneeled down beside him while the surgeon checked the wound. “It is quite deep, but I think I can feel the bullet,” he said, removing his gloves and probing the wound with his fingers.”
Nicolette kissed Salvatore’s cheek. “Squeeze my hand as tight as you must. Do not bear this alone.”
He smiled a little, wincing when the doctor probed yet again. “I can honestly say that I will never duel again.”
“Is that a promise?”
He kissed her softly, then squeezed her hand so tight, she flinched. “Sorry, my love.”
How grateful she was to have him. And how grateful she was to her father. If they had not arrived, lord only knows what would have happened.
Darian came to his feet slowly. He handed the pistol to Solomon, ran a hand through his hair and approached Salvatore. Nicolette thought he looked not only exhausted, but embarrassed, as well he should be. His cowardice had been a shock and a surprise. She had not thought it possible for a man to sink so low as to jump the signal and shoot a man when his back was still turned.
He should be ashamed.
“Will he be all right?” Darian asked the surgeon, who lifted a brow and nodded. Darian nodded, and without another word, left the field.
*****
Charlotte had insisted that Salvatore and Nicolette stay at her home while Salvatore recovered from his wounds. Nicolette was incredibly grateful for her friend, who had gone out of her way to make them both very comfortable.
“It is snowing.”
Nicolette glanced over at Salvatore, who had been reading in a chair, but now walked to the window and opened it. He had a hand over his wound, and though he winced as he looked out, he smiled. “Look, the flakes are enormous. Come, get your wrap and let’s go out.”
She grinned. Salvatore had always loved the snow. Even as a child he would race to get hat and gloves, rushing outdoors to play for hours, and returning red-nosed but gleefully happy. “You are not well enough to play in the snow.”
“Just a quick stroll?” he asked, walking over to her and kissing her.
“No,” Charlotte replied sternly.
Nicolette smiled at her friend, while savoring the feel of Salvatore’s arms enfolding her. She could not imagine her life if he had died in the duel. “You must rest.”
“Yes, doctor’s orders, so we insist,” Charlotte added.
Charlotte’s valet, Alfred, cleared his throat loudly. “You have a visitor, my lady.”
The words had no more left his mouth when Darian walked in, brushing snowflakes off his coat.
Charlotte jumped to her feet. “You are not welcome here. Go, before I have you thrown out.”
“I must speak with Salvatore.”
“There is nothing to say,” Charlotte said, blocking his way.
Darian looked at Salvatore. “Oh, but I am afraid there is. Please, may I have a word with you privately.”
“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Nicolette and Charlotte.”
Two bright spots bloomed on Darian’s cheeks. “I have come to apologize for my behavior toward you. I have been unjust.”
Nicolette was stunned at the apology.
“I am not proud of shooting you before the signal. I have to blame it on the night of drinking. If I had my wits about me, I would not have done so. I would have played by the rules, as honorable men do.”
Salvatore nodded. “I understand.”
“I know little of who you are, but I do know that my father had talked about you.”
Though Salvatore appeared calm, he squeezed Nicolette’s hand.
“He told my mother and me of a woman he loved dearly. He said that she was a gypsy woman whom he had met while on holiday in Greece with friends. He was engaged to my mother at the time, a match of the realm of course, but he loved your mother.” Darian ran a hand through his hair, and Nicolette could see he trembled. “My mother hated him for telling her that there was someone else. She knew he had taken mistresses, but never had he mentioned love...until he spoke of your mother
.”
“May I?” he asked, pointing to a chair, and Charlotte looked to Salvatore who nodded.
They all sat down and waited as Darian shrugged out of his coat. “He told me that I had a brother, a young man with intense golden eyes and a smile that could charm anyone. I forgot about that until recently. I am amazed it took me so long to figure out that you were the one he spoke of.”
Alfred entered with tea. Darian clamped his lips together, waiting patiently as the old man served everyone. When he shut the door behind him, Darian sat forward. “I am sorry for the sins of my father.” He shook his head. “Our father…and that is what I came here to say.” He cleared his throat, stood, and reached out a hand to Salvatore.
Salvatore took his brother’s hand and shook it.
Nicolette looked at Charlotte, who appeared equally as stunned by the apology.
Darian glanced over at Nicolette. “I have had ample time to think on some of the things you said. I have not been very wise when it comes to women.” He turned to Charlotte. “The woman I have needed has been standing before me the entire time…and I have been a fool.”
Charlotte straightened. “What do you mean?”
“I want to be with you, Charlotte. I realized that we are very good together.”
Salvatore glanced at Nicolette with raised brows, clearly as surprised as she was to hear the confession.
“Will you have me?” he asked.
Charlotte’s expression was unreadable. Finally she cleared her throat. “And I have played the fool for too long. My lord, I fear that ship has sailed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nicolette soaked in the tub and looked at her husband who lounged in a chair watching her. He wore just his pants, having done away with his jacket, waistcoast and shirt the moment they had returned from their wedding.
The wedding had been a small affair, with only close friends, including Charlotte and her new beau, a handsome young viscount who worshipped the ground she walked on. Simon and Henrietta had also attended, giving them a generous gift, a beautiful home on the outskirts of London.
In the morning they were headed to France to see their dear friend and surrogate father Count de Vassey, before they returned to London and settled into their new home before the baby was born.
As though sensing her perusal, Salvatore glanced over at her, a lazy smile on his lips. “Are you happy?”
She grinned. “I’m blissfully happy.”
He came to his feet, and she drank in the sight of him. He unbuttoned his pants as he came toward her with an animal-like quality that would always make her heart race.
He pushed the pants down over his narrow hips, over muscled thighs and calves, and then kicked them aside. Making quick work of his drawers, he stood before her in all his naked glory, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“You are not thinking of joining me, are you?” she asked, though she very much hoped that was the case.
He lifted a dark brow. “Do you not think there is enough room for us both?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “I fear the tub is much too small, especially since I am growing larger by the day.”
“I love all your curves…and your glorious breasts,” he said, weighing them in his hands as he kissed the top of each globe. “In fact, I may keep you pregnant at every opportunity.”
He lifted her effortlessly from the tub, water sluicing down her body and onto the floor.
“Salvatore, the rug.”
“Will dry,” he said, kissing her hard as he laid her down upon the rug before the fire and dried every inch of her body with a soft blanket.
Tossing the blanket aside, he lay beside her and went up on his elbow. “I am the luckiest man in the world,” he said, kissing her belly and resting his cheek there.
Nicolette looked at her beloved, savoring the smile on his face and the joy in his eyes.
The future was theirs for the taking.
“If it is a boy, I would like to call him Simon.”
Nicolette searched his face. “Do you mean it?”
He nodded. “If it had not been for Simon, you would not be here. If it had not been for his choices, I would not have met you.”
“And if it is a girl?”
Salvatore lifted a brow. “What would you like to name her?”
“Marian...after your mother.”
Tears shone in his eyes, but he blinked them back as he stared at her. “How did I get so lucky?”
“You?” She went up on her elbows. “I am the lucky one. I would not have made it in this world had it not been for you.”
He nuzzled his face against her belly, kissing her there before pulling her into his arms. “Nor I you.” He chewed his lower lip. “To think we had what we needed all along.”
And now they would bring their child into the world and shower him or her with all the love they themselves had craved as children.
“I am so happy,” she whispered, as he settled between her thighs, his hands smoothing her hair off her forehead.
“I am too, my love. I am too.”
Feeling the hard ridge of his luscious cock against her, she lifted her hips. “Now I believe it is time for you to finish what you started when you removed me from the bath.”
His brow lifted. “Is that a challenge, wife?”
“Indeed, it is…husband.”
About the Author
Julia Templeton writes historical, paranormal and contemporary adult romance, and young adult/new adult romance under the pen name J.A. Templeton. Aside from writing and reading, she enjoys research, traveling, riding motorcycles, and spending time with family and friends. Married to her high school sweetheart, she has two grown children and lives in Washington.
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