by Dayna Quince
“You taste divine,” he said after a slow lick over her pulse.
She shivered, flashes of heat spreading over her body and consuming her with desire.
“I want to be close to you,” she whispered, wishing she had the nerve to undress him here in the barn, to lie with him skin to skin as if nothing else mattered but their shared passion.
“And I want to taste you,” he said. He hugged her to his chest and lifted her, changing their positions. Now she had the stall wall at her back. He dropped to his knees before her, and Nic blinked in confusion. Her fevered skin so cold without the warmth of his body pressed to hers to feed her fire.
He gathered her skirts, lifting them far above her knees. He took hold of her ankle and set her booted foot on an overturned bucket beside them. He slowly ran his hand up her leg. Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh as his fingers tickled a path from her calf to her inner knee, and up and up, her breathing hitching as he skimmed his palm over her inner thigh and under her skirts to her bare skin above her stocking.
“Hold your dress,” he instructed. She gathered the bunched fabric, dazed by desire as he regarded her bared womanhood, his thumbs dancing so close to her center that her knees went weak. She felt vulnerable but also throbbed for his touch.
“So beautiful, like a plump pink rose, damp with morning mist.”
Nic gripped her skirts with white knuckles as he lightly touched her most private flesh, his fingertips spreading her folds, as he openly admired her. She leaned back against the wall for support, and her head fell back with a soft thud. She closed her eyes.
He slid his fingers along her cleft, probing her slick folds, teasing the entrance of her body and the sensitive peak with deliberate and gentle caresses. She could feel the warm huff of his breath at her center, and a sigh of need escaped her. She couldn’t think. Her body was not her own. It hummed with pleasure and wanted more, greedy nerve endings begging for stimulation, a lust-induced haze blocking all thought outside of anything but his next touch.
And then his lips and tongue joined his fingers, probing her heat, parting her petals and searching deep inside.
He held her apart, one hand between her thighs, the other cupped under her knee. She was exposed to him, a raw nerve, held by his wicked mouth to the wall, her bones melting with scorching pleasure.
She tossed her head side to side, moans and sighs escaping her lips despite trying to remain still and quiet in the onslaught of his skill and the full unraveling of her senses. No, not unraveling, she was coiling tighter and tighter, her muscles straining, her breathing short and fast. Sweat pricked her brow as she squeezed her eyes closed and focused on the velvety probing of his tongue that was her only salvation. He slid two fingers inside her, and her inner muscles clenched around them.
She didn’t know her body could do that.
She cried out, the dueling sensations of his fingers inside her, stroking in and out, and the flicking and swirling of his tongue would be her undoing. White light flashed behind her eyes as her body trembled with a savage release. If this was death, it was sweet, cradling her with dreamy, luxurious peace as she gave in to it.
But she did not die. Theo cradled her, his arms coming around her. He lowered her skirts and pulled her to his chest, stroking her hair as her sanity returned to her in slow degrees.
She breathed deep, his scent filling her nose. The musk of a sweaty man. Emotions rocked her.
A sweaty man she wanted to keep for herself.
If only she knew how.
“We have to return to the castle,” he said into her hair.
She sighed. “I know.”
Nic wished they could hold hands all the way back, but they couldn’t. She wanted closeness. She needed to keep hold of him somehow.
They returned in silence, both lost in thought, she imagined. She didn’t know what dire things circled his mind, but Nic was determined to find a way into his heart before the end of this party. She might be drugged with passion, but she wanted to stay with him no matter where he went.
Chapter 19
Theo saw Nicolette back to the castle, the weight of his emotions so heavy he could hardly breathe. He’d helped Mr. Marsden mend the fence. While they’d worked, Mr. Marsden talked and talked, leaving little for Theo to say in return, which left Theo space to think and study Mr. Marsden. He was an odd man, with bushy eyebrows and a horseshoe of hair encircling his head. He had a sunny disposition that Theo admired, but after a time it grew annoying.
Did the man think so little to the future of his daughters? He asked Theo not one question about the party, or why Theo was at Marsden House helping him mend a fence. He spoke of his travels, which Theo had always thought were in search of men for his daughters to marry. At least that was what Roderick had always said. But from Mr. Marsden’s lengthy stories, it sounded more like he just liked to find new people to talk to and new places to see. He’d zigzagged across England and back again, relying on the kindness of people for lodging and food. Meanwhile, his meager estate had fallen to ruin, and his daughters had taken up his duties in his absence.
It gave Theo a whole new appreciation for his own father.
Thinking of his own father turned into thinking of fatherhood.
It didn’t seem hard to care for a child—food, shelter, affection. Theo had never imagined being a father. He’d never thought that far ahead. But what if… What if he hadn’t ruined his life? What would he be doing now? Unbidden, his imagination filled his mind with images of Nicolette. If he didn’t have to leave England, he could marry her. He could help Mr. Marsden improve his estate. He could have a purpose. He could have a child of his own.
But it was too late for all that.
But if he had a second chance… He would marry her, and he’d get to be the kind of father his own father would be proud of.
He was only torturing himself, thinking like this. Today in the barn, he’d wanted to give her something, ecstasy, but he was still taking something for himself, even if it resulted in an aching scrotum. He deserved the pain. He’d keep the memory of her for himself long after he’d gone.
His throat tightened.
But I don’t want to leave.
Damn it all. Had he said the words out loud? Had he said it to his brother? He couldn’t remember. They’d been fighting so much that every conversation blurred into another.
He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to take the risk, stay, have everything he wanted. But it was that kind of thinking that had led him to his present circumstances.
He fisted his hands in anger and forced himself to take a breath. It wouldn’t do to break anything in his room. Weirick might decide to break him, especially if he knew what he had been up to with Nicolette.
Nicolette.
He wanted her so badly.
He forced himself to dress and leave his room. Walking soothed his temper but he didn’t have the patience to speak to anyone just yet. He moved aimlessly throughout the castle, avoiding any room where the other guests might have gathered.
He’d somehow found himself in the King’s Hall. He trod quietly across the vast room, the curtains drawn closed over the entry to the Queen’s Drawing Room, and he could hear others on the other side.
He was drawn to the place where he’d stood with Nic and carved their letters.
He touched his hand to her N, and his temper rose again.
The ache to have her turned into a savage, gluttonous need. He squeezed his eyes closed.
What the devil was he supposed to do? Why did fate have to dangle her before him now? Why not before? If he’d met her just last year, he would be married now. He’d be a different man, he’d be…
Happy.
His eyes burned. He blinked away the pain and refocused on her letter.
Something caught his eye. The wood was thicker here, the spaces between the slats a hair’s breadth wider. He ran his hand along the seam between two boards.
How had he not noticed this before?
> He shook his head. He’d been distracted, flirting with Nicolette.
He pressed on the wood, and it gave a little. He followed the seam, finding what surely must be the secret passage door. But how did one open it?
He should go find Seyburn but… No. He’d do it himself.
His pride might be the bane of his existence, but he didn’t care at the moment.
He crouched on the floor, running his hand along the bottom, when his fingers slid into a little notch. He could feel something there, a lock perhaps? He wiggled it and it slid out.
The whole panel moved, swinging toward him just a hair.
Theo stood. He really ought to go get Seyburn. This kind of discovery… Well, not really. Weirick probably had known where this was all along. If he were a better man, he’d fetch the others, purely for their excitement, but the passage could be rather treacherous if Seyburn was right, and it hadn’t been used in some time.
He grimaced. He wanted to go in…badly.
He glanced around. No one was about. What would Seyburn do? Theo shook his head.
He’d take a look and then, if it was appropriate for Miss Odette and Nicolette, he’d go and find them.
He pried the panel open, dust rushing at him as if freed from its prison. This must not have been used for years. No one had been this way for ages.
Theo peered into the darkness.
“What the devil?”
It certainly looked like a tunnel to hell.
Which made it easy to justify that Theo should enter it alone and see what would meet him at the other end. He surveyed the King’s Hall for a source of light. On a side table stood a candelabra. He nipped a candle and found a box of matches in a drawer.
Returning to the passage, he stepped inside and lit the candle, closing the panel after him. It wouldn’t do to frighten a poor maid to death.
The tunnel was lined with stone, built with expert hands. Dust covered everything, the air musty with the smell of decaying stone and cobwebs. He held the candle before him as he walked, sensing the tunnel sloped down but not to an alarming degree. It was cool and quiet, a bit damp, but otherwise not so terrifying. Odette and Seyburn would be sorely disappointed. Nicolette might cling to him from fear. He liked the idea of that. So far there was nothing to tempt a treasure hunter. The tunnel was utterly empty, and the stone gave way to hard-packed dirt. He could feel a breeze, and after a slight elongated curve, slivers of light lit the tunnel. Leaves and small animal bones littered the floor and the air carried a scent of ocean.
As he drew closer to the end, voices filtered to him. Theo slowed and stealthily moved closer.
Who could it be? Smugglers? Spies? He smirked to himself, remembering the ridiculous lie his brother had told Luna. He shook his head. They were smitten with each other, and it was all built on a lie. His smile fell away as the voices became clearer and recognizable.
“I’m going to tell Theo to go without me. The ship you saw that night, it’s waiting for us, but I’m going to make him go alone,” Callen said.
Theo froze, cold rage making his head light. He inched closer to the tunnel opening. Ivy had grown over it, but he could see them through the shifting leaves.
“But what about your mission?” Luna asked.
Ah, so his hypocrite of a brother was still bloody lying to her. The nerve of him to routinely make Theo out to be the blackguard.
“The mission will be over once Theo leaves,” his brother said.
Theo snarled, coming to the passage entrance. He could see them, but they couldn’t see him, lost in each other’s gazes as they were the bloody fools. Their whole relationship was built on Callen’s lie. If nothing else, Theo could at least say that Nicolette knew exactly who he was. And she still wanted him. He knew that deep in his bones. She shouldn’t but she did, and here Theo would have to leave her behind, perhaps the only person who truly needed him.
“What does it mean if you stay?” Luna asked, shooting to her feet with all the drama of a theatre heroine. Theo wanted to snort. Was she going to run into Callen’s arms now? And then they’d fall to the ground and make love. Theo wasn’t going to wait around for that. He stepped out from the tunnel
“Yes, brother, I’d like to know as well. What does it mean if you stay?”
Theo stepped out from the curtain of ivy.
Luna gasped.
“Where did you come from?” Callen barked. “Were you spying on us?”
“That is what we do, isn’t it,” Theo sneered. “Spy? Isn’t that the mission? I’m not sure spies can just quit being spies. I’m sure there is quite a bit of paperwork involved, don’t you think, brother?” Theo laughed and waved a hand at Luna. “I think we would know that if we were actual spies. But you see—”
“Theo, don’t,” Callen growled.
“We aren’t spies at all,” Theo continued bitterly. “We don’t work for the foreign office. He’s been lying to you this whole time. He got shot stepping between my dueling opponent and me.”
His brother glared at him with hatred, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Theo thought he might lunge at him, regardless of his wounded side, but then Callen’s gaze moved to Luna and softened in that lovesick way Theo now understood. He was sure he looked at Nicolette just like that. Pitifully, filled with regret and remorse.
“Why?” Luna asked.
“I didn’t know what else to tell you that night,” Callen said.
Theo folded his arms and bit back a smile. He would relish watching his brother stumble and fail before the woman he adored.
How does it feel, brother?
Poor Luna looked devastated. She shook her head and backed away from Callen, her face pale, her lips trembling. Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.
Suddenly Theo couldn’t relish any of this moment. He’d never witnessed a heart breaking until now. His stomach turned to stone.
“It’s because of me. It’s my fault,” Theo said.
“What do you mean it’s your fault?” she asked him. “What were you doing on the beach?”
“He’s leaving,” Callen interjected. “If it’s the only good thing you ever do, Theo, you will leave. We were on the beach, meeting with the ship’s captain, arranging for transport to France. We were both going to go, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to waste anymore of my life protecting him.”
Theo fisted his hands, but they felt numb.
“What did he do?” she asked, looking between them like they were both mad.
Theo chuckled. Perhaps they were. That would explain this whole mess, Callen’s and his. Simple hereditary madness.
“I may or may not have killed a man in a duel, Luna,” Theo said. “You see, not because I’m a cold-blooded killer or that I even wanted to shoot him, but my brother here, in his foolish and ceaseless efforts to reform me, managed to interrupt the exchange. When he leapt in front of me, my pistol went off, and instead of shooting over Sir Kirby, I hit him. Kirby shot my brother.”
He regarded Callen, and his brother glared back at him.
“So you’re leaving because of the duel?”
“It’s his third duel,” Callen said. “If Sir Kirby dies of his wound, which we’re waiting to hear, then Theo will be tried. The judge who will oversee his trial is Sir Kirby’s uncle, and he knows it’s not a first offense. If Sir Kirby dies, they could sentence him for murder.”
“So gallant, isn’t he,” Theo said, “but I suppose with a face like yours, any man’s loyalty can be swayed.” His certainly would if it meant staying with Nicolette.
“You will not speak to her like that,” Callen growled.
“Go to hell, Callen,” Theo returned. “Is it really her that you want, or you just don’t want to leave? I understand you’re sick and tired of me. I am too, but we’re brothers, and we’re in this together. Isn’t that what you said? But now you will send me on my way, and you’ll what, stay here, marry her, start a little family of your own and forget about me? Mother and
Father would be so proud.”
Damn it. Those were the things Theo wanted. And they’d never been so far out of his reach. Bile filled his mouth, and he swallowed.
“Don’t you dare mention them,” Callen snarled. “You’ve done nothing but use their unconditional love to your advantage. Never once regretting the pain you’ve caused all of us.”
“So you make me leave?” As if that would solve all his problems. Perhaps it would. Maybe Theo was a curse, first his on his parents, then his brother, and now on Nicolette. He didn’t want to believe it. He could give Nicolette so much, his money, his name…his heart. He could do something good. For her he would do anything.
“If I have to row you there myself, you’re getting on that boat, Theo.”
“And what if I want to stay?” Theo returned. “Let’s say I’ve got my own reason for wanting to keep my feet planted firmly here in England. What would you say then? Would you deny me happiness if I had a reason as good as you think yours is for abandoning me?”
“Where is this coming from? For all I know, you hate me. You never once thanked me for saving you again and again. All you do is complain. This is your chance to live your own life however you want to. Just take it. Why are you punishing me for giving you what you want?”
His gut clenched as if his brother had landed a punch there. “You never once cared what I wanted, Callen. You just did what Mother and Father asked you to do. You don’t care about me, but it’s clear you’re in love with her, so you’ll toss me over the side like yesterday’s stale whiskey.” Or send him away or leave him behind. Were they ever truly brothers? For a little while, Theo believed they could be. Callen was going to leave with him. But now…Theo had been replaced. How soon before he’d be forgotten?
“Stop trying to play the victim. You’ve brought this on yourself. Just go do whatever the hell you want, as long as it’s not on English shores.”
“So, I’m exiled and you’re going to live happily ever after with her? Well, I’ve got news for you. Marry her if you want to. I don’t care, but I’m not leaving. England is my home too. I have my own reasons for wanting to stay. So, if you’re not leaving, neither am I.”