by Dayna Quince
He shrugged. “It’s who I am.”
“It’s who you want to present to me,” she said.
His expression grew stony. “I could use a walk. How about you?”
Nic shook her head and then bit her lip. She knew what she should do, and that was stay away from him. Nic could feel herself sinking into the quicksand of her emotions.
“Will you fetch me some tea?” she asked.
“Of course.” He scraped his chair back as he stood and walked to the tea trolley.
Nic made a quick escape, nearly knocking down her chair as she slipped from the table and down the steps to the next tier. There was a bench there just beneath the wall where she could sit, and he wouldn’t be able to see her from the level above. Nic didn’t think he would come looking for her, sensing she had a desire to escape him. Was it rude? Yes, but he wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t take offense, and he certainly wouldn’t understand, but he also wouldn’t try to mend any of those things and seek her out. Though she did not yet know him, she thought he might excuse her lapse in manners quite easily.
But would he wonder why?
She ought to distance herself now, or he might see the truth. How embarrassing would it be to have to tell him.
“I’m falling for you, therefore I can no longer speak to you because I know that you are bruised and battered, running away from your troubles, and you won’t take me with you.”
Nic could just imagine having such a conversation and blushing to the roots of her hair. She was a fool, but she had no desire to look foolish in front of him. Whatever he thought, whatever he might feel, it didn’t matter. It should not matter, she scolded herself. Things would be awkward now, and that would be good. Nic was saving herself further harm and hurt this way. The worldly man that he was, he would move on and not give her second thought.
Chapter 15
Theo turned and stared at the empty chair. “What the devil?” he muttered to himself.
She’d given him the slip.
He smiled crookedly.
The wily minx.
He must’ve said something wrong. He always said something wrong, but which wrong thing had he said to make her run away? He reviewed the conversation and all of it was dastardly, according to common etiquette, but she hadn’t minded before. She hadn’t seemed to mind. Why was she running now?
Because she was smart, that was why, his conscience warned him.
He wished he could shrug it off, but an uncomfortable visceral emotion twisted in his gut like a dagger. Hell, it shouldn’t bother him, but it did. This was perhaps the first time he’d spoken honestly to a woman.
Theo set the cup of tea down where she had been sitting, and he strode into the house. He had more pressing things to be concerned with than the rejection of a penniless girl. Theo ought to check on his brother, but in his present mood that was unwise, so he went to the billiard room and poured himself a drink, staring at the stretch of green velvet with a scowl.
“So angry. What has the billiard table done to you?” The duke stood from his chair in a shadowed corner of the room.
Theo schooled his features into a practiced mask of indifferent amusement. “Forgive me, I had a moment of bothersome emotion. It passed quickly.”
“Damn emotions. A blight on humanity. ‘Tis good that womankind is so adept. We’d be lost without their navigation of these treacherous waters.”
Theo smirked. “Marriage agrees with you?”
“Like a fine brandy.” The duke stood and stretched his arms up over his head. He was a beast of a man. He’d left England for five years, traveling as a prize fighter after surviving being set on fire, and then returned to claim his title and marry a fetching woman by the name of Miss Violet Everlsy. One could say he’d earned his happiness.
But Theo wanted to know more. What did he do while he was gone? Did he miss England? Did he feel like a stranger to everything he’d once known?
Theo cleared his throat. He’d known the duke for some years, but it was his younger brother, Lord Roderick Andrews, who Theo was most familiar with. They’d prowled the debauched sections of London together a night or two, or five. Most he couldn’t remember. Weirick had been the heir, less of a wild card than Roderick. Having an oil lamp thrown at his back had cut his bachelorhood short and nearly killed him.
“Did it feel strange to come home after being gone for so long?”
Weirick rubbed his jaw. “Truthfully? Yes. I wasn’t the same person who left. I wasn’t sure who I was when I set foot back on English shores. Violet had to reintroduce me to my former self.”
“She helped?”
“She did. She knew me before the scars, and somehow she still saw the man inside me when I thought he was dead.”
Theo nodded, but he didn’t understand.
“There isn’t anything abroad that one can’t find right here.”
Theo stilled. “Right here…in Selbourne?” Was Weirick playing matchmaker? Did he have a bet going with Roderick? That did sound like something they would do. If only they knew how ill-suited Theo was to be a husband. They ought to throw him out on his arse.
Weirick placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Theo looked down at it. Were his knuckles bruised? Who has Weirick been fighting?
“I mean here.”
Weirick pointed to Theo’s chest, where his heart thudded like a drum to the tune of a death march.
“And here.”
Weirick pointed to Theo’s temple.
“I know there isn’t a whole lot of thinking going on up there, but there are answers if you look for them.”
“Ha!” Theo laughed dryly. “Thank you for the sage advice.”
“Thank Violet. She’s given me a whole new perspective on life.”
Theo nodded again, resisting the urge to smirk. Clearly Weirick was enjoying his newlywed status and regular relations with his beautiful wife. He wished them many years of happiness and joy, but for Theo, his future—his immediate future—was more dire.
“Did you enjoy any of the time away?”
“Of course! What else was I supposed to do. I learned about myself, and I saw the world in an entirely new way. I was ready to leave again shortly after returning.”
“You were? What changed your mind?”
Weirick grinned. “I fell in love.”
Theo’s stomach dropped to his feet. His neck prickled. Was he sweating? He felt sweaty. “Love?” He nearly choked on the word.
“Four months ago, I had every intention to leave. Remember? That house party was meant to find a wife for Roderick, not me. But…fate intervened, or rather, Violet is doggedly determined. Things don’t always happen the way we think they will, no matter how we plan. We don’t have control of our tomorrow.”
Theo swallowed. “I forgot I need to speak with my brother about something. If you will excuse me…”
Weirick nodded. “I’ve said enough, I think.”
“Thank you for the advice.” Theo left the billiard room, his limbs shaky as he climbed the back stairs, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings he couldn’t comprehend. At the center of it all stood Nicolette, and he couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t want him, and he didn’t deserve her. There was no future for them. He had no other choice but to leave England or face Judge Blackwood and persecution. Unless… Unless Kirby lived. Unless… He just didn’t know what else there could be.
“We don’t have control of our tomorrow.”
Chapter 16
Nicolette ought to be at sleep. She should be exhausted, and yet she tossed and turned, her skin prickly, and her nerve endings stretched taut. She couldn’t find a good position. She threw the covers back in frustration, hot and agitated, but when that wasn’t enough, she doused her fire with the pitcher of water next to her wash basin. Nic might regret it later, but still, her room was stuffy, the walls pressing in on her. She went to the window, a lovely arched frame with a wide bench seat padded with pillows and a thick feather cushion. Nic unlatch
ed it and pushed the halves open. Cool salty mist bathed her cheeks, and she exhaled in relief.
“Yes,” she murmured. “This is just what I needed.”
There was something calming about the sea, the quiet roar of the waves soothing as they rolled in and out, like the earth was breathing, ever calm, controlled.
But that wasn’t really true, was it? Nic tucked her feet under her nightgown and stared out into the crystal strewn night. The ocean wasn’t always calm. During storms it raged, the waves thrashing violently against the shore. Perhaps the sea was just as volatile as herself, and at times just as confused and…angry. Yes, that was it. The fever that plagued her tonight was anger.
Nic was mad at herself for being a coward. She had the attention of a handsome young man, and what had she done? She’d run away. He frightened her. He made her feel things she couldn’t fully understand or control. It was as if she didn’t know herself, and yet he saw something in her, some mystery, and she didn’t even know what it was. How absurd was that? He treated her like she was special, but she wasn’t, she was just a poor girl from the wilds of Northumberland.
Why did he have any interest at all, her head wondered, but her heart said something different.
And for once she didn’t want to listen.
Nic couldn’t let herself fall for a rogue like him, and yet he churned in her thoughts, making butter of her emotions. What was she going to do?
Normally she would speak with Odette, but Odette had spent all evening talking with Mr. Seyburn about some treasure quest. Nic was practically invisible to her.
She felt rather alone for the first time in her life, and homesick, Nic realized, even though her home was only on the other side of the castle and down the hill. She felt far away, in a foreign land. Is this how she would feel when she married and eventually moved away? Homesick? Out of place?
Would she miss the tumbledown charm of her home, the faded paper on the wall, the water stains on the ceiling, the shutters that rattled violently during even the lightest breeze and kept her awake at night? Life before had an easy rhythm she could follow, a consistent pace of her life, but this party had turned everything out of tune.
It seemed strange to think that any of these fancy gentlemen could look at her with anything but curiosity, and yet Mr. Denham looked at her with something… Something she was not worldly enough to identify that made her heart skip in a new exotic rhythm. Her cheeks burned like twin suns, but she was a fool to let that look make her feel anything.
She and her sisters had once dreamed of love, talked of it like it was something real that they would someday find. That simply wasn’t true, she reminded herself. So what did she expect to feel? She’d left him earlier today because he made her feel things she was too afraid to identify. Nic closed her eyes, but the word hung in the air like a ghost around her. Desire or lust was something she shouldn’t let herself experience for man who was not her husband, would never be her husband, But it was too late. Those emotions were already there, an ember brought to life and he’d provided the kindling. She turned her face into the breeze and let it quiet the fire inside her, dull the edge of this new emotion. She’d tried to put distance between them but failed. Would she fail again?
Tomorrow was a new day.
She’d simply have to—she sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. A soft sound, too gentle to be a cry or scream, too…lovely, was being carried on the wind. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding. She blocked out everything but the sound, and on the breeze she heard it again, slow and haunting. A sorrowful song she’d never heard before. Her throat tightened. There was something so desolate about it. What instrument was that? She’d never heard anything like it. Entrancing as a voice.
The mermaid story came to mind, and she shook her head. There was no such thing as mermaids, but someone was out there. Someone in pain.
Nic was moving before she realized her intent, throwing on her cloak. “What am I doing?” she muttered to herself. But she did not stop as she slipped her feet into her boots, not bothering to tie them, and left the safety and security of her room.
Where had this recklessness come from? She wondered as she bolted down the back stairs and out a side door into the night. She paused outside the kitchen garden, searching beyond the normal sounds of the night. There it was, carried on the wind from… She looked around—the beach?
Nic retraced her steps from the evening before, coming to the path that led down to the stables. She passed the stables, and it was then she saw him. She could feel it. Who else would come to the bluffs in the dead of night to play an instrument except Mr. Denham?
She should turn back. Moving forward would be the exact opposite of everything she should do, but there was a visceral pull toward him.
Why did he play so sadly? What was that instrument? It sang to her nerve endings and called forth all the feelings she wanted to bury.
What was this magic?
Nic couldn’t turn her back on him anymore than if he had been lying there injured, crying out for help. This was a cry for something. She’d bet her eye teeth that this was him expressing deeply buried pain.
This was not the rogue.
This was not the shiny mask.
Nic nearly tripped over her own feet as she moved toward him. When she was close enough to call out, she stopped, recognizing the instrument as a violin. He moved the bow slowly over the strings in a tantalizing caress. The sound vibrated through her body, a keening wail of sorrow. Her eyes began to sting as the music moved her in ways she’d never felt before. The cry of the violin slithered into the night until he stopped, and his arms fell to his side, instrument and bow in hand.
“So now you’ve caught me.”
The wind carried his words to her. She blinked out of the trance. “‘Tis only fair,” she returned.
“I thought you might be avoiding me,” he said, and then he turned toward her. “That would be the smart thing to do.”
“It was rude of me. I should not have abandoned you like that.”
He wore no cravat. His waistcoat and jacket lay open, and the V of his shirt revealed a glimpse of his chest and a sprinkling of hair.
Her mouth went dry. She did not want to move. She doubted she could, even if she willed her feet.
“You shouldn’t be out here. There are dangerous men out here,” he said.
Nic casually looked around, her heart in her throat. “I don’t see any.”
He snorted. “I’m supposed to say you’re looking at one, devilish rogue that I am.”
“Will you accept my apology for deserting you this afternoon?” Nic asked. He used jests to distract her. She could see that now.
“Think nothing more of it,” he replied. “I’m hardly one to take insult when a woman doesn’t wish to speak to me. You need not run away. Next time just tell me to bugger off. My ego can take it.”
Nic half smiled. “Do you want me to bugger off?”
He chuckled. “Of course not. But I don’t know why you would wish to stay.”
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
“You find my company so boring, you think I can help?”
“No, but I think you can distract me.”
“Distraction is one of my greater talents,” he returned, “but I ought not to distract you. My methods are rather indecent.”
Her nerve endings came alive as if his words strummed them like a cord. He was being wicked, but she knew better than to believe he could be so careless with her.
He had kissed her, but what was a kiss? She kissed Jeremy and that had led to nothing but disappointment. Theo’s kiss had led to a world of tormented emotions and confusion. Nic should heed the warning, but she didn’t. She was rooted to where she stood.
A gust of wind rose up from the ocean, parting her cloak and revealing her plain cotton nightgown. She didn’t move to cover herself. What would he make of that revelation? She might as well be nude. Her cheeks prickled with heat, fighting the cold bluster o
f the wind for dominance.
“I’m scandalized,” he said and then he grinned, and Nic couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed that he’d seen her in her nightgown, that he knew she was not properly dressed.
She didn’t recognize this bravery in herself. Who was this woman that she became when she was near him.
“How tantalizing. Is that cotton?”
His words made the air hum with delicious tension. He strolled toward her and set down his bow and violin at her feet.
“Have you come here to seduce me, Siren of the Sand?”
A breathy giggle rose in her throat. Nic swallowed it back down. “I came to hear you play.”
“Just as I’d come to hear you sing. But there’s a price to hear me play. Are you willing to pay it?”
She swallowed. “Yes.” Her reply was little more than an exhale between them.
“I don’t think you are,” he said. “You have to prove it. I’m quite shy about my music. You’ll have to make me believe you really want it.”
“I’ve never heard a violin by itself. It’s so mysterious and haunting.”
“Interesting choice of words. I usually only play for an audience of ghosts.”
“There are no such thing as ghosts,” Nic said. “Didn’t we discuss this last night?”
“I don’t think you believe there are no such things as ghost.”
“I have never seen a ghost,” she argued.
“Is this change in topic intentional, or are you frightened to pay my price?”
“Of course,” she said. “I don’t even know what it is, but I can guess.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“And what is your guess? I’m dying to know. Is it something wicked?”
Heat spread down her body in a wash of guilty pleasure.
“Can you even say it?” he taunted.
“You want another kiss,” she said.
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I want a better kiss.”
A better kiss? Did he think poorly of the first one? Because it had moved her in ways Nic never thought a kiss could, and she wasn’t sure a repeat performance wouldn’t addle her brain permanently.