Unable to meet his gaze, Aurora sipped her wine more slowly. She felt her heart skip a beat when her new husband indicated the adjoining door with a polite sweep of his arm.
"Shall we retire, my lady?"
Reluctantly she preceded him into the bedchamber. The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp and a low-burning fire. Aurora eyed the bed warily. The frame was rather narrow, yet the covers had been turned down invitingly and her nightdress had been laid out with evident care. Her mouth suddenly went dry.
She felt his gaze survey her as she stood frozen. After watching her a moment, though, Nicholas went to the hearth and stirred the coals, rousing a more lively flame. "My manners are remiss again," he said casually. "I haven't thanked you yet for accepting my proposal."
"It… seemed the most sensible course," she replied, fighting to keep her voice from sounding weak.
"And are you always sensible?"
"Usually, Mr. Sabine."
"Why don't you call me Nicholas? After all, we are husband and wife now."
Aurora shivered slightly at the reminder.
He turned to her, his gaze locking with hers. "Bridal nerves are not uncommon, I understand."
"I suppose not."
"I have told you before, Aurora. You have nothing to fear from me. You needn't look as if you are going to the guillotine."
She took a deep breath, chastising herself for being such a mouse. She had agreed to become his bride, and she would uphold her end of the bargain – or die trying.
"Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?" he asked when her chin lifted in determination.
"I have an idea. Jane told me generally what to expect. I am prepared to submit as your wife."
His eyes softened. "I am not interested in your submission, Aurora. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. In fact, I think you'll find lovemaking quite pleasurable."
"Jane said… it might prove so with you."
His faint smile held more than a hint of charm. "I shall do my utmost to justify her faith in me."
When Aurora remained immobile, Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Come and sit by the fire, sweetheart. I won't ravish you, I promise."
Aurora searched his compelling eyes, finding a tenderness there that amazingly reassured her.
Two wing chairs were arranged before the hearth, with a small cherrywood table between them. Aurora chose the one closest to the door. Nicholas remained where he was, one booted foot on the hearth fender. His tone was thoughtful when he next spoke. "Did you ever consider that this marriage business might be terrifying for me as well?"
"You?" Aurora responded in surprise.
"Yes, me." His mouth twisted in a wry, self-deprecating smile. "I've never taken a bride before. Truthfully, I've hunted man-eating tigers in India with less trepidation."
She stared at him, not believing this man with his bold vitality had any conception of fear. She studied him a moment, unconsciously admiring his ruthless good looks – the strong jaw, the slashing brows, the sensual eyes with their long, dark lashes.
She wasn't genuinely afraid of him, although she didn't know why. A man with his history of violence should have frightened her. But he was still unnerving.
There was a leashed energy in his lithe, powerful body that was intensely male. An intensity that was sexual – there was no other way to describe it. All her senses came alive in his presence, her feminine instincts acutely aroused. That was what unnerved her, she realized. His powerful sexuality… and the dismaying effect it had on her.
"I expect we should discuss the arrangements regarding our marriage," he said after another moment. "I spent most of the day with the solicitors, trying to foresee various difficulties and making every legal provision I could think of. Financially at least you will be comfortably situated."
"Thank you," she murmured, suspecting he had introduced the subject now to give her something to think about other than the consummation to come.
"Raven, however, could prove a possible problem to my plan," Nicholas mused. "She won't be eager to accept you as her guardian – a total stranger. Nor is she likely to suffer the confining strictures she'll encounter in England, either from her family or society in general. Although she claims to have every intention of conforming in order to make a good match, she has an aversion to rigid rules. She's something of a rebel, I fear. Much like me."
His crooked smile was meant to put her at ease, Aurora suspected, but the sensuality of it had just the opposite effect. "I'm certain we will work something out," she said gamely.
"Good. I've written Raven a letter, telling her how our marriage came about and explaining how she stands to gain, but you may have to persuade her to accept you as her ally. I think she will, once she understands the lengths you've gone for her."
He hesitated. "I will be relying on you to guide her, Aurora. I believe we discussed the support she'll need from you once you reach England, but there is another matter I forgot to mention. Raven's mother reportedly left something in her personal effects for me to hold in keeping… a rare book, I understand. It was a gift from my father years ago. He told me about it before he died, but he wasn't certain what happened to it. He would have been gratified to know Elizabeth Kendrick kept it all this time. She told me she wanted her daughter to have it – but not until Raven is old enough, after she is wed herself. Now that you have charge of her, you will have to be the one to judge when to give it to her. I have no doubt you will act in her best interests."
"Of course," she murmured, wondering what kind of book inspired such concern.
He shifted his gaze to look down at the hearth. Firelight played over his beautiful features as he stared at the flames. "There is one other thing I would ask of you, Aurora. Will you promise me something?"
"What?"
"I want you to leave tomorrow for Montserrat."
"Tomorrow?" Aurora felt herself frown. "Must it be so soon?"
"I would rest easier, knowing Raven's welfare is in your hands."
A chill settled about her heart. He was to die tomorrow. How could she deny him this simple request?
"Will you promise me?"
"Yes," she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.
He gave a brief nod of satisfaction. "There should be a ship at Montserrat ready to take you both to England. Your cousin will escort you to the island and see you safely aboard. I regret the inconvenience, but there is good reason for haste. By now Raven no doubt has learned what befell me, and by going tomorrow, you may reach her in time to prevent her doing something totally rash – like setting out to rescue me."
"Very well." Aurora hesitated before murmuring, "It won't really be inconvenient. Most of my packing has already been done. Before… I met you, I had planned to leave for England the following day."
"Before I intervened in your life, you mean," he responded with a twist of his sensual mouth.
There was little she could say to that. Truthfully she was glad he had intervened in her life and spared her a repugnant marriage, but this hardly seemed the appropriate time to discuss her feelings.
Firelight etched his profile as he took another swallow of brandy. "Well," he added, rather easily for a man who was about to die, "at least it will all be over for you tomorrow."
She shuddered, not wanting to be reminded of the fate that awaited him.
Almost absently, he bent to stir the coals again, and a lock of tawny hair fell over the bandage wrapping his forehead. When he raised a hand to rake back his hair, she noticed the red stain seeping through the white muslin.
"You are bleeding," Aurora said, rising to her feet in alarm.
He touched the bandage gingerly, and a smear of blood came away on his fingers. "So I am. The gash must have opened when I washed earlier."
"May I look?"
He raised an eyebrow but made no objection when she reached up to probe beneath the dressing. "Please, will you move over to the light so I can see?"
When he complied, Aurora se
t both their wine glasses on the bedside table and turned up the lamp. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she carefully unwound the strip of muslin from around his brow. She could feel his intent gaze on her as she inspected the wound beneath the pad.
"I doubt this is what you planned for your wedding night," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry."
No, this was not what she had planned. Had Geoffrey survived, this night would have been far different for her.
She would not be preparing to give herself to a stranger, nor would she have been so unnerved by her husband's nearness the way she was with Nicholas Sabine. Or so strangely excited.
Aurora mentally chastised herself. She should not be thinking of Geoffrey or comparing the two men. Geoffrey was gone, and soon so would this man be.
Her sadness must have shown on her face, for he asked quietly, "Your betrothed… did you love him a great deal?"
She flushed, realizing he had mistaken the cause of her sorrow. "Yes."
Making an effort to shrug off her melancholy, she went to the washstand and wet the corner of a towel before returning to her new husband. "Your wound bled a little. The blood should be wiped away so it won't mat your hair."
"Please do."
"Forgive me if I hurt you."
"You won't." He didn't seem inclined to change the subject, however, as she gently cleaned his scalp. "You said I bore a resemblance to your betrothed."
"I thought so at first because of your fair hair. But I was mistaken about any real resemblance. You really are nothing alike."
"How so?"
"Geoffrey was a…"
"A proper gentleman?"
"A proper, gentle man."
"Do you not think I can be gentle?" Nicholas queried solemnly.
Her heart gave a fluttering leap. "This is not what you expected either, was it?" she asked, trying to ignore the sensations he aroused in her.
"To be truthful, I never gave matrimony much thought…"
"You never wanted to marry at all?"
His brows drew together thoughtfully. "I suppose I had a vague notion that someday I would marry and sire an heir. But I was too busy sowing my wild oats to entertain any serious thought of settling down." The half smile that flashed across his mouth was fleeting, before he gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders. "It's too late now for recriminations or deliberations on what might have been."
"I regret you were trapped into an unwanted marriage," Aurora replied, her voice rough with emotion.
Nicholas reached up to close his strong hand around hers, commanding her attention. "I don't mean to spend my last night dwelling on regrets." His dark eyes held her spellbound. "Do you think we could make a pact, sweetheart? For tonight we forget everything else that has happened?"
"I would like that."
"So would I." His voice was hushed. "Very well, this is our night. Nothing exists, before or after this moment. Tonight we live only for the present."
"Yes," she whispered.
He reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape. Time suddenly seemed suspended as he drew her head down. He meant to kiss her, she realized, her pulse leaping in an erratic rhythm.
His mouth was amazingly soft and tender when it touched hers briefly, yet it stirred a riot of unruly emotions within her. She wanted to turn and run, but when he drew back slightly, his fathomless gaze locked with hers, imprisoning her as surely as any chains.
Aurora felt her heart hammering as Nicholas leisurely took the towel from her limp grasp and let it fall to the floor. Hooking his arm around her waist, he urged her closer, between his spread legs, till her breasts brushed his chest. A tremor rippled through her.
With some futile thought of self-preservation, she pressed her palms against his broad shoulders, staring at him. His eyes, dark and sensual, told her clearly he didn't intend to stop at a kiss.
"Your wound…"
"Will survive. But I might not if I don't taste you soon."
Still holding her lightly, he slowly lay back on the bed, drawing her with him. Heat spread in her, catching hurtfully in her stomach as she found herself stretched fully on top of him, cushioned by his powerful body. She trembled at the stunning intimacy of this simple contact, the unfamiliar hardness against her softness, the warmth of his frame beneath her thin silk gown.
"Open your mouth this time, lovely Aurora," he murmured as he delicately teased her into parting her lips.
The intrusion of his tongue was slow and sensual, more erotic than anything she had ever felt before. For a long moment she remained rigid, experiencing the foreign sensation of his open mourn tasting deeply of hers. He was drinking of her, savoring her. It was tantalizing, the warm stroke of his tongue inside her mouth.
She could feel herself softening, her breath quickening in steady arousal, but her simple pliancy still was not enough for him.
He left off kissing her long enough to murmur in a husky voice, "Kiss me back, sweetheart," before his mouth found hers again.
Dazed, she let her tongue shyly move to meet his and was rewarded by his low, guttural sound of approval.
The pressure on her mouth deepened. A heavy ache began forming in her lower body as his intoxicating lips and tongue taught hers about kissing. His hands stroked down her back, bringing her hips even closer to his, exciting her further.
For long moments they lay together, tasting each other in the heated silence. Aurora lost any perception of time, any sense of herself. There was only the captivating awareness of Nicholas, of his raw masculinity and his sensual, drugging kisses, of his hard-muscled body beneath hers.
Eventually his caresses became more ardent; he claimed her mouth fully, dragging her into his kiss and sending delicious liquid sensations flooding through her defenseless body. Of their own volition, her fingers moved from his shoulders to curl in the waving silkiness of his hair. His mouth was a searing flame that stole her breath.
Helplessly she pressed closer to him, longing for something she couldn't name. She felt boneless, on fire… She felt as if she were falling…
It was only Nicholas, nudging her onto her back on the soft mattress.
Her eyes fluttering open, she stared up at him. She was trembling, her cheeks hotly flushed, her senses spinning.
His eyes watched her as his hand moved to the empire-waist bodice of her gown; she felt herself drowning in their shadowed depths.
When his fingers curled over the low decolletage, she tensed, but he bent to her again, his mouth hovering just above hers, heating her lips. "Don't be afraid to feel, angel. Tonight you can abandon reason and just let your senses rule."
When she made no protest, he gently tugged on the neckline of her bodice, then drew down the edge of her chemise over the top of her corset to expose the swell of her breasts that were pushed up by the stiffened fabric. With expert skill, he bared her nipples to the night air, making her shiver. When his bold fingers found one hardened bud that quivered there, she moaned involuntarily at the delicate-sharp sensation that shot through her.
"Has no one ever touched you like this before?" he whispered in her ear, his breath warm.
"No…" The word was a breathless gasp as his thumb moved slowly over the sensitive crest, circling and teasing.
Aurora shut her eyes, giving in to the pleasure he was determined to rouse in her. His warm, commanding mouth returned to claim hers as he gently tormented her aching breasts, leaving her whole body fiery with shame and excitement.
She was scarcely aware when he slowly drew up the hem of her gown or when he reached beneath the edge of her chemise. But then his stroking palm moved higher, brushing the soft, swollen flesh at the apex there, lingering.
Aurora went rigid. When she tried clamping her knees together, he insinuated his hand even deeper between her thighs.
He was breathing deeply, his lashes a dark sweep against his tanned face as he cajoled in a husky voice, "Open your legs for me, siren, and let me touch you."
Unable to deny
him, she did as she was bid. Coaxing her further, he stroked the soft curling thatch of her womanhood. A moist, aching weakness pulsed to life in the secret place between her legs. She felt so strange, melting, throbbing… Instinctively she whimpered and arched her back, longing for some fulfillment that seemed to elude her.
Yet he seemed to know exactly what she wanted, needed. With exquisite care, his finger slipped between her cleft lips and penetrated her.
She gasped into his mouth, but he continued his tender assault, exploring, probing, learning her secrets. He was wooing her, his fingers sheathed in her pulsing warmth while the rough pad of his thumb brushed the now slick bud of her femininity.
She clutched at his shoulders, not certain she could bear any more, but he went on stroking, surging and withdrawing rhythmically, driving her on to greater heights, until instinctively her hips lifted and sought to match his pace.
Almost desperate now, she moaned and twisted under his hand, the coiled tension inside her growing more urgent with every stroke that rubbed against the bright center of sensation. All she knew was the devastating heat of his mouth on hers, the hot pounding of her blood, the fierce delight of what he was doing to her.
Suddenly the pleasure was too keen, too fierce to be borne. Frantic, she writhed beneath his possessive hand, yet the glowing spark grew till it seemed to shower her with burning embers. Aurora felt wave after wave of hot, shameful sensation wash over her helpless body.
His hand rose to cradle her throat, soothing her thundering pulse beat, while his mouth feathered kisses over her flushed face.
A long moment passed before the sensual reverberations waned. Her limbs felt weak, limp, her senses dazed by the bewildering surge of fire through her body.
Opening her pleasure-hazed eyes, Aurora stared up at him. Nicholas was lying on his side, supported on one elbow, watching her. She was sprawled inelegantly on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge, her skirts hiked up to her hips, totally exposed above her stockings and garters. His heated gaze drifted over her – her bare breasts with their peaked nipples, and lower, to the juncture of her naked thighs.
The Passion n-2 Page 7
