Her display of mourning, however, wasn't all pretense. She wanted to accord Nicholas the respect due a beloved husband. She couldn't forget the tender lover who had swept her into unexpected ecstasy and made her a woman, or deny her gratitude for saving her from an unbearable marriage and from her father's dictatorial rule.
Escaping her father's anger and iron control had felt like a heavy yoke being lifted from her shoulders. She was so very grateful for her liberation. Truthfully, she hadn't realized how badly she craved freedom until she'd tasted it. And now that she had, she would never again allow herself to be so thoroughly dominated by any man. She owed Nicholas for that realization and for her newfound strength.
The Frenchwoman's journal, too, had influenced her indefinably. She was no longer the virginal innocent she'd been on her wedding night. The journal had taught her much about the mysteries of passion and helped her to understand the powerful feelings Nicholas Sabine had aroused in her so effortlessly.
For a moment as she remembered him, a poignant ache tightened her throat. It had been four months since Nicholas's death. Four months that she had tried to put him out of her mind. Thoughts of him would intrude at odd times, but each day it was becoming easier to bury her sorrow. Sometimes long hours went by when she didn't think of him at all.
It was the nights when he haunted her dreams…
Aurora squared her shoulders. She would not allow herself to be tormented by memories. She had vowed to make a new future for herself, and she would not look back.
Her life was on an even course now. There was no turmoil, no grief, no dread. No strife stemming from disputes with her father or his violent rages.
She couldn't remember when she had last felt such equanimity. She was content, even happy now. A quiet, uneventful, peaceful existence held a vast appeal after the upheavals in her past.
She did not have to answer to anyone but herself now. She alone was in control of her fate. Finally, finally her life was her own. And that was precisely how she wanted it.
It was perhaps an hour later when Aurora lost track of Raven. Searching the crowd, she finally spied her charge across the ballroom.
Raven was not dancing but stood on the sidelines, conversing with a swashbuckling pirate who sported an eye patch and a sword hanging from his waist sash. Her face was flushed with excitement, and she was laughing and talking animatedly.
Aurora felt her heart catch when she saw the pirate. She didn't actually recognize him, but the sense of familiarity was uncanny. He had the lithe, athletic form of her late husband – the same broad shoulders and narrow hips and long, sinewed limbs. The same aura of danger, of vitality. When he laughed in amusement at something Raven said, his teeth flashed white against his bronzed complexion.
His coloring was quite different from Nicholas's, however. His hair, half hidden by a rakish headscarf, was ebony instead of dark gold.
Aurora raised a hand to her brow. Her mind was playing tricks on her, obviously. Her tender remembrance of Nicholas was making her imagine his ghostly presence.
Just then Raven glanced over her shoulder, as if searching for Aurora. The pirate turned his head slowly, and their gazes locked.
Aurora felt the color drain from her face. For an instant, time ceased to exist, and she was back again in her marriage bed with Nicholas, drowning in his dark, fathomless gaze.
With a whispered oath, Aurora turned and fled.
She found herself in the library, where a lamp had been lit to chase away the gloom. Dizzily she moved toward the sofa and leaned against the high back. Her face felt flushed with perspiration, her pulse erratic.
Pulling off her mask, Aurora bit her lip hard, wondering if she was going mad. She had been unable to forget Nicholas, but she had never before so vividly conjured his image -
"Aurora." The low murmur came from behind her.
She went completely still, memory slicing at her heart. It couldn't be his voice. The man she remembered so poignantly was gone.
"Aurora, look at me."
Slowly she turned around. The pirate was standing there, just inside the room. Dear God, he looked so much like Nicholas… despite his black hair and marauder's attire.
Her fingers gripping the back of the sofa, she squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them again, the image was still there.
"No…" Her denial came out in a hoarse rasp. "You are dead…"
"Not quite, love."
Slowly he removed his eye patch, letting her look fully at his features. She could not have mistaken those eyes. Those dark, beautiful eyes. Nicholas.
"Oh, my God," she whispered.
His mouth curved in the faint semblance of a smile. "Aren't you glad to see me, angel?"
Unable to answer or even catch her breath, Aurora raised a hand to her temple. She felt faint with shock, her knees so weak they started to give way. She would have sunk to the floor but for Nicholas. In two strides he had reached her side and grasped her beneath her elbows, lending her his strength. His touch felt very real.
"I don't understand…This can't be."
"It can, Aurora. I am truly here, in the flesh."
She stared back, her gaze riveted on his face. "How…?"
"At the last moment Commander Madsen balked at giving the order to hang me because of a service I had once done a family relation. Instead, he had me transported to Barbados so the British navy could carry out my sentence instead."
"But… I saw your grave…"
"What you saw was a deception, I'm afraid. Percy believed you wouldn't leave unless you were convinced you could do nothing more to save me, so I asked him to feign my burial. He arranged it with Madsen – although he had no notion of the commander's change in plan."
The grave was a deception? Stunned, she searched his face, trying to take in the enormity of the revelation. Nicholas wasn't dead. For a dozen heartbeats she remained unable to speak, her emotions a turmoil of shock and bewilderment… anger at his deceit… joy at seeing him again.
Still not quite believing, she reached up to touch his face. His skin was warm and smooth shaven. His hand closed over hers, holding her palm to his cheek, and for a breathless moment they remained that way, staring at each other.
When another wave of weakness hit her, making her sway, he bent and swept her up in his arms. Aurora suddenly found herself held against a hard male chest. The feel of him was just as startling as his sudden appearance.
She murmured a protest, but Nicholas shook his head. "You should lie down. You've had a shock."
He carried her around the sofa and settled her there, then went down on one knee beside her.
"I'm fine, truly," she murmured as he unfastened the top clasp of her domino.
The further shock of his warm fingers on the bare skin at her throat made her shiver with remembrance. Nicholas seemed aware of it as well, for his hands suddenly went still. He was looking at her breasts, she realized. Abruptly her nipples tightened and pushed against the bodice of her gown in twin, hard peaks.
Her breathing faltered as his heated gaze lifted to her face. "I didn't dream it – how beautiful you are." His voice had fallen to a husky whisper.
Aurora's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Then Nicholas drew an unsteady breath of his own and released her. To her relief, he rose and went to a side table, where he poured her a brandy.
Not wanting to remain in such a vulnerable position, Aurora sat up and smoothed her disheveled clothing. When he returned, Nicholas settled on the sofa beside her and ordered her to drink.
Obediently she took a sip of brandy. The fiery liquor burned her throat, but at least her senses stopped swimming.
"I'm sorry to behave like such a weakling. It's just that…"
"I have come as such a shock?"
"Yes." She frowned, searching his face. "It has been months, Nicholas. Why did I hear nothing of your being alive? I cannot believe Percy never wrote me – "
"I doubt he knew at first. The Bri
tish navy presumed me drowned at sea, and I thought it best to encourage their belief. It's possible Percy heard rumors later and wrote to warn you, but a letter could have gone astray. Mail is often one of the casualties of war."
Reminded of the deception Nicholas had perpetrated with her cousin, Aurora felt a spark of renewed anger surge through her. He had deliberately made her think him dead, letting her weep over his grave. Letting her grieve for him for months…
"You might have warned me yourself," she said, fire edging her tone. "How could you put me through that – "
"I'm sorry, Aurora. Perhaps I should have tried to get word to you, but the war made it difficult. And at the time I was rather occupied trying to survive."
Aurora shook her head. How could she be angry with Nicholas when he was really, truly alive? Her ire fled as swiftly as it had been born, replaced by a fierce swell of joy. She gazed up at him searchingly, not knowing even where to begin with her countless questions.
Nicholas seemed able to read her mind. "You're curious to know how I escaped hanging?"
"Yes, of course. How did you manage it?"
"I jumped ship during a storm. I told you Madsen changed his mind about carrying out my death sentence and instead had me sent to naval headquarters at Barbados. I was being conveyed there in a brig when a gale blew up. The wind broke the mainmast and left us floundering in the water."
Aurora remembered the fierce storm that had prevented her own departure from St. Kitts the day Nicholas died – or the day she thought he had died.
"In the commotion, I managed to break my chains and dove overboard. I wasn't followed. No one believed I could survive in those seas, and it was over half a mile to shore. I was presumed dead."
"How incredible… You're alive because the weather turned violent?"
His smile was ironic. "I know. But it's you I owe my life to, siren. Our marriage delayed my execution long enough for fate to shift in my favor."
Aurora bit her lip, recalling anew the long months of sorrow when she had thought him dead. "I wish I had known you were alive. It would have saved me countless hours of grief."
"Did you grieve for me, Aurora?"
"Yes, of course. You were my husband."
There was a short pause. "I still am."
She drew a sharp breath as the import of his comment sank in. Nicholas was still her husband. They were still wed. Merciful heaven…
"In fact," Nicholas added in a low voice, "that's the reason I am here in England. I have a wife here. You."
Once again shock held her speechless. She stared at him, her mind reeling.
"I might have come sooner," he continued, "but it took me weeks to make my way to safety and locate my ship. Then it took more time to arrange for my journey here. Because of the war, I had to commandeer another of my cousin Wycliff's ships and outfit it for the voyage. And I had to hire a British crew with papers that would gain them entry into Britain."
"Entry…" Alarmed, she reached out to grasp his hand. "My God, you can't be seen in England. You're an escaped prisoner – "
"Easy, sweeting. I already have been seen. I'm here in disguise. As you can see, I dyed my hair. And I've assumed the identity of my American cousin, Brandon Deverill. We bear a strong resemblance, and I don't think he would oppose my impersonation. Brand has his own shipping firm in Boston, and at the moment he is rather occupied with the war."
Aurora's eyes widened. "The war! Nicholas, if your cousin is American, then he wouldn't be welcome here in Britain."
"He would if he were a British loyalist, which is what I'm claiming to be. There are hundreds – perhaps thousands – of loyalists who object to the war and who have sought refuge on British soil, so my story is not at all unusual. I imagine Brand might protest that small detail of my deception, since he despises you Brits after what your government has done to Boston shipping. But I'm sacrificing his reputation for a good cause."
"But… if you are found out, you could be hanged. At the very least you would be arrested."
"Most definitely, but I don't intend to be found out." His teeth flashed in an amused smile – an amusement that Aurora could not share. His nonchalance only rekindled her anger.
"You cannot possibly think to remain in England, Nicholas. Don't you understand? You will be killed."
"I am rather hard to kill, angel. This wasn't the first time I've escaped death by a whisker."
She could well imagine he had faced death before and no doubt enjoyed it. His casualness made her furious, as did his audacity. He had even come to the ball dressed as the infamous Captain Saber, a foolhardy risk that incensed her.
Aurora stared at him, torn between wrath and dismay. Devoid of gentlemanly trappings in his rakish pirate's garb, Nicholas looked the picture of a brazen adventurer, daring fate and laughing in the teeth of danger. Yet Aurora shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he were discovered.
"I am serious, you cannot stay," she pleaded.
"So am I – and I cannot leave just yet. Not when I came all this way just to see you."
"Well, you have seen me, so you may go."
"But we have a dilemma to resolve, sweetheart."
"Dilemma?"
He fixed her with his intense gaze. "What to do about our marriage."
Marriage. An unexpected sense of panic rose up in her. She was overjoyed to know Nicholas was alive, but it didn't necessarily follow that she was pleased to have him for her husband. His presence complicated matters dreadfully – especially since he couldn't even show his face without risking capture and death. Marriage to him would turn her life upside down, would shatter all her hard-won equanimity, would destroy the peace she had finally found. His very nearness sent her senses reeling -
Just then they heard laughter in the hall, and a couple walked past the library door. Aurora froze, deathly afraid Nicholas would be recognized.
"You must go," she whispered fiercely when the laughter died away. "Someone might see you. Might see us and perceive your disguise."
"I told you, being seen doesn't concern me."
"It does me."
"That is quite evident, faintheart."
"Nicholas…!" she said, losing patience.
"Perhaps you're right. A ball is no place for such a serious discussion. But we still need to talk about our marriage."
"Yes, of course. But not now."
"Very well, later." He raised her fingers to his lips and brushed a light kiss there. "I will find you after the ball."
When Aurora nervously withdrew her hand, he reached up to touch her cheek. She shivered with the same warm shimmering sensation his touch always aroused in her. The dark awareness in his eyes told her clearly he knew how he affected her.
She watched as he replaced his eye patch and once more became the dashing buccaneer. He went to the door then, and gave her a final lingering glance before disappearing from the room.
Aurora remained where she was, still feeling the overwhelming impact of his presence, still reeling from his startling revelation.
Her notorious husband of one night was very much alive. And she had no earthly idea what to do about it.
Chapter Eight
His kiss, his slightest caress, left me breathless and trembling .
Nicholas frowned as he sat in the darkened carriage, waiting for his wife to appear. Wife. It wasn't a term that sat easily with him. He had escaped hanging, only to find himself fettered by chains of matrimony.
Apparently he wasn't the only one averse to such chains. Lady Aurora hadn't seemed at all eager to acknowledge the legal bond they'd formed under admittedly desperate circumstances. His return had shocked her, but she was clearly more discomfited by the thought of being tied to him for life.
He was just as unnerved.
He'd frankly been tempted to ignore that major complication in his life. He could simply have remained in America and avoided dealing with the issue of his marriage, perhaps for years to come. And yet his conscience hadn't
allowed it. For too long he'd evaded his familial responsibilities, Nick reflected. It was more than time to satisfy his obligations, regardless of his own personal desires.
And in all honor, he couldn't simply dismiss the existence of a wife… or what he owed Aurora.
It was solely because of her that he was even alive. She'd made it possible for him to honor his solemn oath to his father, which had meant more to him than whether he lived or died. And she'd kept her promise to care for his sister, seeing Raven successfully launched into society. Raven professed to be essentially satisfied with her new life, despite her disdainful, haughty relatives, and claimed Aurora had not only made her stay bearable, but had become a dear friend as well.
He couldn't forget Aurora's sacrifice or pretend it had never happened. Nor would it be fair to her – to either of them – to leave such a volatile powder keg primed to blow up in their faces at some future date.
They were still wed. No matter that necessity had compelled him to make her his wife. The vows they had spoken were real. As was the night of passion they had shared. The memory of it haunted Nicholas mercilessly.
For a moment his eyes narrowed. He'd had ample time during the past four months to convince himself that the golden-haired siren he remembered so vividly was merely a condemned prisoner's fantasy. That the bond he'd felt that night was a primal need for intimacy brought on by desperation. No woman could possibly be as desirable as recollection painted Aurora Demming.
Tonight, however, had proved him wrong. Her cool, regal beauty was as stunning as he remembered, his attraction to her just as intense. Seeing her again was like taking a fist to the gut.
The temptation she presented was very real, if their first encounter was anything to judge by. Just touching her had made him hard in an instant, made him crave the wild sweetness of her body beneath him…
Nicholas tightened his jaw, forcibly reining in his lustful urges. He hadn't expected Lady Aurora to be so set against acknowledging their marriage. She was bound to resist if he tried to claim her as his wife. Yet until that issue was settled between them, he had no business contemplating taking her to bed. He had no business even touching her.
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