She nodded. “Yes, I want to understand.”
“He found me when I was twenty-one,” Nic said. “My mother was older by then and couldn’t work as she used to. In her time, she was one of the best equestrian performers they ever had. She could dance on a horse’s back, like a ballerina. It was astonishing to watch.”
Eliza smiled at the pride she heard behind his words. “I wish I could have met her.”
Nic laughed at that. “I don’t think you’d have got on, to be honest, mon amour. She’d tell you not to be so bloody daft as to marry me. She didn’t believe in people getting above their station, getting heirs and graces. She never blamed my father for abandoning her, said she’d expected it.”
He shook his head, as dumbfounded by that as Eliza, though she knew it was the usual state of affairs from most men’s perspective.
“He’d not wanted anything to do with me—nor my mother, not once she was pregnant—so it was a shock when he turned up out of the blue. The devil was older by then, of course, and not in the best of health, but he could still be charming. He lied through his teeth and wrapped me about his finger.”
There was a thread of amusement in his voice, but Eliza could only hear the hurt there and hated the man for it. She hugged Nic tighter.
“He didn’t want me, of course. I figured that out in the end. A bastard son who performed tricks like a trained monkey? God, no. The miserable beggar had suddenly become aware of his own mortality and the fact he was no longer young and handsome. He was angry and bitter at everything the family had lost, but now Napoleon was long gone, and things had calmed down, he hoped to regain it all. Suddenly he remembered he had a son and heir, and he wanted him back. Not for Louis’s sake, mind. Oh, no. He just wanted his youth and vigour, someone with the energy to recoup it all and make the family great again.”
There was no hiding his bitterness now, and Eliza wanted to weep for him, and for Louis.
“What happened? Where was Louis all this time?”
Nic shook his head, his jaw tight. “Not now, Eliza. I’ll tell you, but… not now.”
Instead he kissed her, fervently this time, with something close to desperation.
His need for her was like adding kindling to a flame and she burned for him, pressing closer and wanting to curse corsets and petticoats.
“Wicked girl,” he said, pulling back. “I told you to be good. You are forever thwarting me, and I never made good on my threat to take you in hand, did I?”
Eliza swallowed. His voice made her quiver inside, and she knew just what he was talking about.
“No,” she whispered. Her lung capacity seemed to have diminished, and she found herself breathing in little gasps. “No, you never did. I assumed it was just that: a threat with no foundation.”
He made an incredulous sound. “Petit diablo! You are determined to drive me out of my mind still, I see.”
With her most innocent expression, Eliza blinked up at him. “No, Nic. I only wondered why you have never done as you threatened to do, when you have had the most profound provocation. If anyone needs punishing for bad behaviour, it must be me, surely?”
She wondered how she dared, wondered what to expect of him, but curiosity was a living thing inside of her, and her excitement at what he might do was impossible to deny. The hot throb of desire pulsed through her. How strange to want him to cause her pain, yet she trusted him, trusted him to not truly hurt her.
His hand slid down and cupped her bottom, caressing in a circle. “You did break into my rooms.”
“I did.” She nodded, the motion a little jerky.
“And you did get into my bed without permission.”
Eliza nodded again, incapable of speech this time.
There was a rustle of fabric as he lifted her skirts and petticoats. Eliza gasped at the sensation of cool air upon her backside. Nic’s breath rasped harshly in the dimness, and she felt comforted by the fact he was by no means unmoved, especially when she was squirming with anticipation. When his hand slid over her bare buttocks, she let out a little exclamation of sound before biting her lip to silence herself.
“Are you sure, Eliza?” he asked. “It will give me the greatest pleasure, but not if you do not wish it.”
“Nic!” was all the reply she could manage, a combination of excruciating embarrassment and urgency making her press against his hand to illustrate what she could not articulate.
“One word will stop me,” he told her, before raising his hand and smacking her bare arse with just enough force to make her skin smart and tingle and a little gasp of shock escape her.
“Oh!”
“How many?” he asked, leaning over her to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her neck. “How many for such appalling behaviour?”
Eliza’s heart skipped about with anticipation, wondering why this was so dreadfully thrilling, so naughty and so delicious.
“T-Ten?” she suggested, too eager for more to feel embarrassed by asking.
“Hmmm, I don’t think so. I think you deserve a great deal more than that but for now… only one more, you are enjoying yourself far too much. The rest will be delivered in intervals, at places and times of my choosing.”
“For how long?” she asked, alight with the idea that this might happen again when she was least expecting it.
“That depends on how often and how thoroughly you defy me in the future.”
The words might have given her a qualm if anyone else had spoken them, and if they had not contained such expectation that she would defy him, and that he would never punish her with anything more than pleasure in mind.
His hand came down again, harder this time, jolting anything resembling a thought from her mind, especially as he soothed the sting away by caressing her, his palm so warm she let out a little sigh of relief.
“Enough,” he said gruffly.
Eliza gave a huff of frustration as he flicked her skirts back and turned her towards him, but then Nic reached down and lifted her up, moving to put her down on a table set against the wall. She made a small sound as she sat on the recently pinkened skin, but her attention quickly refocused as Nic yanked at her skirts again and the layers beneath, pushing them up to bare her legs and then pulling her close.
Eliza gasped against his mouth as he kissed her again, and the height of the table lined her up nicely with his straining arousal. The hard ridge pressed against her sex and made her breath catch in her throat.
“Je vais devenir fou,” he muttered, trailing hot kisses down her neck. “I’ll go mad with wanting you, Eliza. I can’t think of anything else but you, being with you, kissing you, touching you.”
“Nor I,” she said, bold enough now to tug at his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin, slide her hands over his warm body. After what she had just allowed it hardly seemed a daring thing to do but quite natural.
“How will I sit through dinner tonight with you so close and so very far away?”
“You could come to me after,” she suggested with more hope than expectation.
“What?” He was breathless now, his dark eyes simply black, no distinction between colour and pupil. “How?”
She smiled at him as she tugged a little of his shirt free and slid one hand under the fine linen. He sucked in a breath, shocked at her touch. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. My bedroom is on the southwest corner. I’ll light a candle. There’s a small balcony on the corridor outside it.”
“That’s… I can’t. No, Eliza. It’s mad.”
“I know.” She gave a wistful sigh, not really having expected him to do it. “Ah, well, we have now. Touch me, Nic. Please. Like you did before.”
“I shouldn’t,” he said, but there was such longing in his voice. “You are an unholy temptation, mon amour. I shall go too far.”
“Please,” she whispered. “I thought I would die last time, when Martha interrupted us.”
He laughed softly, burying his face in her neck. “Ma pauvre petite, how you
must have suffered.”
“It’s not funny,” she said indignantly. “I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
“Didn’t you?” he asked, a quirk to his lips.
“There was nothing I could do! Not until later, anyway.”
Nic groaned. “Oh, I wish I had not thought about what you did later. The vision of you on your bed, thinking of me, pleasuring yourself…. My God, Eliza.”
She whimpered with need and he kissed her again, finding the sleek skin of her thigh and pushing his hand beneath the impossible froth of layers. “Quickly then, my wicked girl, before someone else turns up to spoil our fun.”
Nic did not think speed would be an issue as his fingers slid through the soft curls between her thighs and found evidence of the state she was in. That spanking her had excited her more than he had anticipated had been enough to bring him to the edge far quicker than he wished to admit. It had killed him to call a halt, but his control had been slipping, and here she was, pushing him to his limits once again. He muttered an oath, aching to find his own release in that sweet, hot place, but he was breaking enough of his own rules as it was. She deserved better than this, better than a quick fumble in a cold storeroom, but he knew she was aching too, filled with restless desire and he did not want her getting any more wild ideas. If he eased her discomfort, he might at least be assured he would not receive another midnight visit to his bed, though the idea that she might risk it to be with him only made him harder and ever more desperate.
She threw her head back, exposing the elegant column of her neck as he eased one finger inside her, still gently caressing the little nub of her sex. Nic watched, spellbound, as she sighed and trembled.
“Promise you’ll… you’ll m-marry me as… as soon as possible,” she demanded, the words broken, her breath coming in short little gasps. “Nic? Please… please….”
Nic stared at her, hazy with love and desire. He knew he could not leave, not now. The thought of another man seeing her this way, of giving her up so some other devil could….
“I promise,” he rasped, bending his head and kissing her fiercely, with all his heart and soul. “I promise, Eliza.”
She shattered then, coming apart in his arms with a little cry that he muffled with another kiss, unable to get enough of her. He watched as she quieted, her beautiful green eyes fixed on him.
“You promised,” she said, smiling now. “You promised!”
Nic laughed at her triumph and then nodded, knowing he was a devil for agreeing, but too weak not to. He loved her, and he was selfish enough to keep her all to himself. “I did.”
“And you always keep your promises,” she said, and his heart swelled at the jubilation in her eyes. “Louis told me that. He said you would never break a promise.”
Nic touched his forehead to hers and let out a breath, feeling a weight of one kind slide from his shoulders, even as it was replaced by another. “No, mon amour, I never would.”
Chapter 16
Dear Fred,
I met the most extraordinary girl yesterday. I can’t wait for you to meet her too. I just know you will like her as much as I do. We are all going to be the very best of friends.
PS. I still haven’t forgiven you for the book. I will get a copy.
――Excerpt of a letter from Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington (youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu) to Lord Frederick Adolphus (younger son of the Duke and Duchess of Bedwin).
10th April 1839, Hans Place, Knightsbridge.
Louis watched as Aggie stared about their rented rooms, her eyes on stalks. By the standards they could afford, their abode was relatively modest. Louis had only taken them temporarily until he could find something permanent. Somehow, he’d never been bothered to look through. He did not feel at home here in England, so the idea of making a home….
Well, it had never happened.
Now, he saw the grand rooms and their ornate plasterwork and gilt-framed mirrors and pictures through her eyes. He remembered the first time he had entered such a building, though that had been viewed by candlelight as he and Nic stole a diamond necklace from the mistress of the house. Becoming the Comte de Villen had been an expensive business. They’d needed to make money and fast and had both agreed on the best way, but Rouge et Noir had taken considerable capital to get going and a great deal more to become the exclusive and opulent place they’d made it. The money had to come from somewhere. They’d never stolen from anyone who couldn’t afford to lose it, and only from people they heartily disliked, but Louis was uncertain he could claim any high ground from that rather skewed moral compass.
“re you a duke?” the girl asked him, daring to put a finger to a pretty games table inlaid with walnut and burr wood.
She glanced back at him, clearly expected to be yelled at not to touch it.
Louis just smiled at her. “No. In England I would be an earl. I am Louis César de Montluc, the Comte de Ville. At your service, mademoiselle.”
He performed a theatrical bow for her, and she just gaped at him.
“Bu—blow me,” she said.
Louis smothered a laugh and looked at her sternly. “Almost, but I do not wish to hear any more such language from you, you little beast. If you want to be a proper young lady, it must stop now.”
Aggie stared at him. “Who said I want to be a proper young lady? What’s wrong with me as I am?”
Louis opened his mouth to reply and then stopped himself and thought about it. He thought about the years he’d spent with Nic, creating Rouge et Noir, making a place for themselves, a home for themselves.
“Forgive me, Aggie,” he said, meaning it. “There isn’t the least thing wrong with you. I only…. Any choice you make will be your own, but I wish to give you that choice. Once you have choices, you have power over your own destiny. I do not want you to feel you must change though. There is no must. Certainly don’t do it for me, but the world is a cruel place and there is no joy to be found when you are starving and cold. Sometimes it is easier to simply fit in, but easier is not always right.”
“Is that what you do? Fit in?” she asked, with such startling perspicacity it took him a moment to answer.
“I try,” he admitted. “More often than not I feel I am playing a part and that is the price I pay, but this is the prize.”
He gestured to the room and its beautiful furniture, the luxurious fabrics, and the fire blazing in the hearth.
Aggie looked about her, taking it in, and then she turned back to him. “What do I have to do?”
Nic could not keep the idiotic smile from his face as he made his way up the stairs to their rooms. Though the idea of being a guest of the Duke and Duchess of Bedwin for dinner this evening was enough to tie his guts in a knot, it was not enough to diminish his happiness. He would not think about all the trouble to come. It was there and it would come, but worrying about it wouldn’t make it go away, so why bother? Eliza was his. She was a reckless, headstrong little fool, but she was his and he couldn’t let her go now. He wouldn’t.
Louis would be unbearably smug when he realised, but Nic couldn’t even muster enough irritation to be angry with his brother. He was in love, and he was loved, and that was enough. Perhaps Louis wasn’t the only romantic among them, but Nic would stick pins in his eyes before he admitted that to his brother.
He opened the door and put his hat and gloves aside. As they both valued their privacy, they did not keep a full staff. Louis had his prissy valet, Elton, they had maids to clean and light fires, and the building had a housekeeper who arranged meals for them on the rare times they ate in. Beyond that, they preferred to keep to themselves and rarely entertained guests, and so Nic was immediately curious when he heard voices. His curiosity only grew on entering to see Louis playing cards with a young girl, the two of them staring at each other and hissing like angry cats.
“You cheated!
“I never did!”
“There’s an ace up your sleeve, you
lying little baggage.”
“No there ain’t!”
“Do I need to turn you upside down and shake you? I will.”
“Oh, you ain’t no fun to play with.” The girl plucked the offending ace from her sleeve and smacked it on the table.
“A good player does not resort to cheating,” Louis retorted, gathering up the cards again. He looked at the girl’s indignant face and relented a little. “Well, not unless there is really no other choice, but it is only to be done if things are truly desperate, and in no other circumstances. It is dishonourable and therefore to be avoided. I will teach you how to play so that you do not need to cheat.”
“I’m not clever enough for that,” the girl grumbled, folding her arms on the table and resting her chin on them.
“Nonsense,” Louis said briskly. “Look how quickly you learned to lift my watch.”
“Louis?” Nic stared at the two of them in bewilderment.
Louis started, and that was something to behold. Louis had the instincts of a cat, and it was damn near impossible to creep up on him.
“Oh.”
Louis was immediately on his guard. That saddened Nic more than he could say, and he realised he wished for things to be as they were before. It had been him and Louis against the world for such a long time. He did not wish to damage that, no matter that he had been quite right to be furious.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Apparently,” Nic said, quirking one eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your guest?”
The girl had stood up and scurried behind Louis, staring at Nic with big, mistrustful blue eyes.
“Come here, Aggie.”
The girl reluctantly came forward and stood beside Louis.
“Nic, this is Agatha. She will be staying with us for a while until Eliza’s school is ready to take her. Aggie, my brother, Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau.”
The girl stared at him. “You ain’t got the same name.”
“No,” Nic replied dryly. “Our father did not see the need to marry my mother.”
Dare to be Brazen (Daring Daughters Book 2) Page 19
