by Maggie Dove
She looked at Mason with disdain. The man repulsed her. There was a sickly, oily odor about him that never failed to turn her stomach. “Well, make sure that you see to it,” she clipped. “The boy must never come to any harm. Do you understand? Remember our agreement? Under no circumstances are you to contact me. Not for any reason. I contact you.”
Without another word, she left the poorhouse to return to the London of dallying teas, frivolous balls and impeccable attire. Unnoticed, she slipped inside the townhouse.
Tonight, she would dream of Nicholas, she thought happily, as she rushed to her room and closed the door behind her. Soon he would return, and with the assistance of Edgar and Gertrude Mason, he would be hers—of this, she had no doubt.
* * * *
Nicholas paused at the railing and stared at the blue-black waters below. The sound of waves splashing against his ship and the taste of salty sea air on his lips usually lifted his spirits, no matter what his mood. But tonight was different—tonight he was thinking of what he must do. With renewed determination, he ascended the steps leading from the deck to the cabin and drew open the cabin door.
Angelique stood by the bed, dressed in a flowing, dark blue skirt and white, long-sleeved button-up blouse. He looked around, noticing the definite signs which revealed she was now sharing his cabin. The scent of gardenia wafted throughout the room, lingering from the fragrant bath she had indulged in earlier. Her trousseau was carefully hung in his closet. An antique silver brush and comb set, perfume bottles, hair ribbons and other female paraphernalia lay on top of his chest of drawers. He would never have believed that he would take to sharing his space with anyone, much less a wife.
He noticed her silky negligée on the bed and her bedroom slippers placed meticulously one beside the other on the floor. “You’re feeling better—I can see that,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve checked on you every hour since I left you this morning … you’ve been sleeping all day.”
Smiling, Angelique nodded. “Oui, after taking Tommy’s remedy I was not able to keep my eyes open. But Nicholas, I feel so much better. I’m starving and longing for a stroll on the deck.”
“The stroll can wait, Angelique. There is something I must do first.”
Nicholas grabbed a chair and held it for her. “We need to talk,” he said, motioning her to sit. “I’m afraid you won’t like what you’re going to hear.”
Her brows knitted, Angelique walked over to him and sat down. “Nicholas, what is it?” she asked, looking up at him over her shoulder.
Pulling a chair for himself, Nicholas came around and sat across from her. “What I’m going to say will upset you, but I need you to understand my reasoning. I haven’t been honest with you,” he admitted soberly, before he was interrupted by a heaving pounding at the door. Cursing, he bolted to the door and yanked it open with such force that the first mate stumbled in and practically fell to the floor.
“Captain, there’s been a fight in the galley,” Rhourk informed him. “One man is hurt, and the others are threatening to stir up trouble.”
“I’ll be right down. Bring my wife a plate, she’s hungry,” Nicholas instructed Rhourk, then turned to Angelique. “Stay here. Do not go outside this cabin.”
“You are not going to leave me here alone!” A stab of fear went through her. “I’ve read much about mutinies on ships. It is most often the women on board who are ravished and—”
“Mutinies?” Nicholas gave her a half grin. “Calm down. The days of privateering and plundering are over. Or haven’t you heard? I’ll be damned if my men even so far as gawk at you. They’ve been warned. But don’t you go tempting them, either. I don’t want to have to mete out any punishments. Promise me you’ll stay put,” he insisted sternly, waiting until she nodded yes before he rushed out of the room.
For the span of an hour, Angelique paced the cabin, waiting for Nicholas to return. Why was it taking him so long? Fear gripped her. Had something happened to him? She pushed the thought away. He was strong, capable … so very much in control. Nothing would happen to him.
The sudden knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. “Go away!” she cried out, picking up a heavy object and running toward the door, certain they had come for her.
“It’s me, Rhourk.”
Her breath came out in a whoosh of relief as she let Rhourk into the room. “Is my husband all right? Tell me no harm has come to him.”
Rhourk looked amused. “Nothing has happened to him. I’ve brought beef stew.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Maybe later.” Tommy placed the plate of food on the small dining table. “If you need anything else, I’ll …”
“Thank you for the stew and also for your remedy. I’m fine, monsieur—bonne nuit.”
After the door closed behind him, Angelique slumped down on the edge of the bed. She noticed her beautiful silk and lace negligée lying on the mattress beside her. Nicholas had something to tell her, something he thought would upset her, but she was in no mood for a serious discussion. “I lied to you, Tommy Rhourk,” she admitted as she began to take off her clothing. “I’m not fine. I need my husband.”
Unlike their first night together, which was a blur in her mind, tonight would be a night she would never forget. Determined to consummate her marriage, Angelique proceeded to put the negligée on. After turning off all of the lights except for the night light on Nicholas’s desk, she went back to the bed, slid between the cool sheets and waited for what seemed hours.
Suddenly the door creaked open and adrenaline rushed through her veins. She heard his deep voice from across the dimly lit room, but she chose not to answer.
* * * *
Nicholas stood in the doorway. “Angelique, are you awake?” he asked, staring at the bundled figure on the bed. It was odd that she had not waited up for him. He would have thought she would be full of questions regarding the scuffle downstairs. Not up for another confrontation, he was suddenly grateful she was asleep. Tomorrow, he would talk to her. He had just pacified a group of dirty, drunken men. Certainly, he could manage one lively girl—tomorrow. Tonight, he yearned for his hammock.
Too tired to turn off the desk light, Nicholas shed his garments, kicking them to the corner of the room. He began to search for his nightshirt, but could not find it amidst Angelique’s clutter. To hell with it! Wrapping a blanket around himself, he adjusted his naked body on the hammock and closed his eyes, determined to get some sleep.
Sensing Angelique’s presence, Nicholas opened his eyes to find her standing by the hammock, her golden hair glistening in the soft light, her silhouette displayed before him through the filmy negligée. He must be dreaming, but she was no figment of his imagination. Her supple body was more sensuous, her curves more generous, more seductive than any image his senses could have created.
Offering herself to him, Angelique timidly began to untie the ribbons of her lacy nightgown, but Nicholas grabbed her hand. “Don’t,” he snapped, his voice a hard, painful rasp. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t you want me?” she asked, hurt and confusion evident on her face. She turned to go, but Nicholas gripped her arm and her nightgown fell to the floor.
His breath became shallow as his gaze traveled from her face to the generous mounds of her rosy-tipped breasts. “Don’t you dare leave,” Nicholas uttered huskily, holding her to the hammock. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t cool off while I’m on fire, Angelique. It’s much too late for that.”
Her sultry green eyes were filled with undeniable passion as she pressed her fingertips to his lips. “There is no other place I would rather be, but here with you.”
Her whisper was his undoing. It was all Nicholas needed to hear. He stood from the hammock, and lifting her in his arms, quickly carried her to the bed. “Damn it—I want you, too,” he admitted gruffly before his lips captured hers in a burning kiss.
Every one of his senses ached to savor her. Lower
ing his mouth to her breast, he heard her little gasp of surprise. Wanting to pleasure her, his skillful fingers built her need until she begged him to stop, and in the same breath whimpered for more.
She was more than ready. Feverishly, he raised his head to look into her eyes. Easing himself into her, he slowly began to penetrate.
“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Angelique’s body stiffened as she cried out from the pain.
“Be still, darling.” Nicholas kissed her brow. “It couldn’t be helped. You will enjoy it, now.” He began to move slowly at first, intent on satisfying her.
Much later, once they fell exhausted into each other’s arms and lay in the semi-darkness, covered in sweat and totally spent, he knew he had pleased her as she had pleased him. He also knew Angelique’s desire for him would soon turn to loathing once she learned the truth, but he didn’t care. He was too busy enjoying the afterglow of their ardent lovemaking, and listening to the fast-paced rhythm of her heart.
* * * *
Tommy Rhourk knocked lightly at the door and heard no answer. Smiling, he looked down at the biscuits and coffee he was carrying. There would be time enough for food later, he thought, remembering how late last night, attempting to report to his captain the condition of the injured sailor, he had stood outside the cabin and had quickly turned away at the distinct moaning sounds that had come from the inside.
Kent had married himself a fetching young lassie. It was only fitting for the newlyweds to enjoy themselves at their leisure and not have an interfering old bugger like himself interrupting them at every turn. Deciding to allow the captain and his new bride the opportunity to sleep a little longer or do whatever else they had in mind, he opted to return the breakfast tray to the galley.
Angelique awoke to the sound of fleeting footsteps outside her door. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she smiled when she saw the empty hammock and recalled all that had taken place the night before. Yawning, she tried to stretch, but Nicholas held her in a tight clinch. His arms would not budge.
Enjoying the warmth of his hard, muscled chest against her breasts, she snuggled against him. She was tired, very tired, but completely fulfilled and feeling such joy at having Nicholas in her bed, holding her in his sleep.
Unable to get enough of each other, they had awakened several times during the night, continuing their lovemaking until the wee hours of the morning. Mon Dieu, how she loved him! Oui, she loved him! Nothing could have stopped her from marrying Henri—nothing but her love for Nicholas. She felt herself blush when she remembered the incredible things he had done to her the night before, and the wanton way she had responded to him.
“Don’t blush, darling. We are way beyond that,” Nicholas said hoarsely. “There are a few more things I’m longing to teach you.”
“Nicholas, I thought you were asleep … there is more?” she asked amazed, sitting up to rest on one elbow. “Surely, you’re jesting.”
With a low chuckle, Nicholas pulled her to him. They rolled on the mattress and he landed on top of her. “Sorceress,” he uttered in a deep, husky voice, as his knee nudged her legs apart. “There’s more … much more.”
“Nicholas, I just remembered. Last night, what did you want to talk about?” Angelique asked suddenly, her question as sobering as a cold glass of water. “Whatever it is—I can help.”
“There was something you needed to know. But, never mind, it no longer matters. Angelique, let’s enjoy our honeymoon. Everything is different now.”
“Different … how? Tell me, monsieur, or I’ll leave this bed,” she teased.
“If I tell you, you may want to leave altogether.”
Angelique smiled. “I seriously doubt that, Nicholas, not after last night.”
Knowing that there were no easy words that could justify the extent of his deceit, Nicholas just came out with it. “I know about Bertrand.”
A puzzled expression creased her brow. “You know about Henri? I don’t understand.”
“I heard you in the courtyard my first night in France. I might as well start off by telling you Bertrand is in London. He’s not in New Orleans.”
Covering herself with the bed sheet, Angelique looked completely baffled. “Mon Dieu—you heard us? You knew—you knew all along? But his letter? Henri wrote me a letter.”
“I forced him to write it.”
“You forced Henri? Why, because you wanted to marry me? You wanted me for yourself?”
“I want to be honest with you, Angelique. I owe you this much.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “I do want you, but it is a little more complicated than that. I’m afraid my intentions were not altogether noble,” he admitted flatly. “International banking played a very big part.”
The shock of Nicholas’s betrayal drained all color from her face. “Mon Dieu!” Angelique gasped. “Mon Dieu!” she repeated.
Nicholas rose from the bed. Reaching for his drawers, he quickly pulled them up. “Let me explain, Angelique, I’ve been wanting to ever since we boarded the Eugenia.” He sat down beside her to attempt to explain what he now found unforgivable.
* * * *
Angelique listened to Nicholas for several minutes without uttering a word, too horrified to respond. She felt herself growing angrier and angrier still. He had torn her heart into little pieces, and all she could do was stare at him. How could she have been so naïve? Now, all she wanted was to submerge into a scalding bath and scrub away the memory of Kent, to cleanse herself completely of his scent and of the remnants of his lovemaking. She could still feel his hot kisses all over her body, as though violated by a stranger. Why hadn’t she left well enough alone? He had shown no interest in her—had not even touched her until she had stood nearly naked before his hammock. Mon Dieu, she could not think of that now. It was too humiliating!
“Get away from me,” Angelique said coldly. Pushing him from her, she stood from the bed, biting her lips and holding back tears.
“I’m sorry, angel. I wanted to tell you before.”
“What stopped you … the fact that we hadn’t slept together?” Angelique bit out, ripping the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around herself to cover her nudity. She shook her head from side to side. “You lying scoundrel.”
“Much has happened since that first night in the courtyard, Angelique—much has changed. I’m not giving you up…not after last night.”
Nicholas rose and took two steps toward her, grabbing her shoulders, but she recoiled from him as if he were some kind of vile animal. Jerking from his grasp, she stared at him, not certain if he was mocking her or if there was actually regret in his voice. “Are you saying I have changed you? From what? A rogue to a knave?” she cried. “You knew I was to elope with Henri. Yet you pretended ignorance. You knew I did not want to partake in the merger. Yet you said nothing. It was all planned … everything,” she accused him. “You used me … pretended to court me, knowing I was in love with another man.”
Nicholas’s brow furrowed. “And you went along with it, knowing I was to be left at the altar,” he reminded her.
“After everything you have done, you have the nerve to reproach—me? I only wish I had left you there to rot!” Angelique spat out, furiously.
Turning away from him, she spotted her negligee lying at the far corner of the room, where he had thrown it the night before. It only served to remind her of how she had seduced him. Crossing the room, she bent down to pick it up. “I want an annulment,” she said allowing the sheet to drop after jerking the lacy garment over her head and wriggling into it. “I would rather join a nunnery than remain married to you.”
“An annulment is out of the question … after last night.”
Damn him! She made a fist, wishing she had never given her virtue to him. The Nicholas with whom she had fallen in love did not exist. Her marriage was a total sham—the man was a cad! Everything she had heard about him was true. He had tricked her into marriage and had stolen her virginity. H
er tears were beginning to spill. No, she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her cry! She quickly wiped them away. She could not tear out his heart, for he did not have one, but she would be damned if he saw the pain he had caused her.
“Last night meant nothing,” she scoffed. “I only married you because Henri chose to go to America without me. I gave myself to you because I thought he had deserted me. I took my solace with you.”
Staring at him with defiance, Angelique taunted him. “Tell me, monsieur—why would you marry a woman who wants another man? A woman, who forever thinks of another … even when she is being kissed by you … even when she is making love to you?”
Mon Dieu, had she gone too far? His face rigid with anger, Nicholas strode toward her. For a fleeting moment, she thought he would strike her. Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her long and hard. Despite her initial protests, she began to succumb to him.
