She swallowed convulsively. How long would he continue? Just how far would he go? Sabrina had not seen a man unclothed since her husband. But even she realized Nicholas was an outstanding example of the male animal. Tall and broad, he towered above her, filling the space in the now tiny cabin. She wanted to reach out and lightly run her hand over the solid muscle of his chest. Wanted to absorb the heat of his body with her own. Wanted to—
“Sabrina.”
His amused voice jerked her gaze to his face. She drew a deep breath and composed herself. “Yes?”
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I am now going to remove the remainder of my clothing.”
She sighed and surrendered. “You really are going to stay here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my dear, I really am.” Lightly he kissed the tip of her nose.
“Very well.” She strode to the bed and gathered a woolen blanket in her arms. Moving to a chair, she plopped down, wrapped the blanket around her, and flipped her feet onto the seat of a second chair. She clasped her hands together in her lap and smiled pleasantly. “Then proceed.”
For the first time tonight, he appeared uneasy. “Are you certain?”
Satisfaction washed through Sabrina, and she realized the way to win this man’s game was to turn the tables on him. Accept his challenges and repay him in kind. “Oh, absolutely. It’s not as if you were the one who insisted on privacy.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And you are going to remain seated? There?” She nodded. “It is not precisely what I expected from a woman with your reputation.”
She widened her eyes in as innocent an expression as she could manage. “Why, Nicholas, I am truly sorry I am not living up to your standards of dull and boring. I shall try much, much harder to be the paragon of virtue you married.” She snuggled deeper in the chair and let her eyes close. “I shall not share a bed with you. But I will share my accommodations. I shall be more than happy to sleep right here tonight.”
“Delightful,” he muttered.
Eyes closed, she listened to him move about the cabin. The temptation to peek grew too strong, and she opened one cautious eye. He stood by the bed, with his back to her. She caught only the briefest glimpse before he snuffed the lantern, plunging the room into night. The bed creaked and rustled under his weight.
Sabrina smiled smugly and closed her eyes once again. The chair was exceedingly uncomfortable, but a poor night’s sleep was little enough price to pay to beat Nicholas at his own game. She drifted off to sleep cloaked in a firm sense of satisfaction and dreamed of a laughing man with endless black eyes and the body of a Greek statue.
A tall, powerful Greek statue without even the benefit of a strategically placed fig leaf.
Chapter 8
“Glorious day, don’t you think?”
Sabrina didn’t so much as flutter an eyelash in response. She leaned forward over the rail and stared out at the sea.
Nicholas suppressed a smile and tried again. “I find nothing is quite as refreshing as sleeping on board ship. It must be the sea air. Did you sleep well, my dear?”
Sabrina favored him with the barest of glances, flicking her gaze over him in a disdainful manner, then turned back to resume her perusal of blinding blue sky and glittering azure waves. He grinned to himself. There was no doubt she had slept poorly in the uncomfortable chair. Throughout the night, he’d heard several heartfelt sighs and a few low, incoherent comments. He really should have insisted she take the bed.
A twinge of guilt tweaked briefly at his conscience. It was not his fault she chose to sleep where she did. In spite of the terms of their marriage agreement, he was perfectly amenable to sharing the berth. As to exactly what that implied, he would not force himself upon her, although, if truth were told, it was his legal right. But that step he would leave up to her, confident she would come to him eventually. No doubt it would take time. The woman was stubborn. Stubborn and clever and, very probably, courageous. His determination strengthened to peel away the layers obscuring what he sensed—indeed, what he hoped—was a fiery, passionate spirit.
He rested one arm on the rail and blatantly studied her profile. Strands of gold-washed hair drifted in the breeze, softly framing her delicate features. The masculine attire molded to her body, the linen shirt clinging to beguiling curves and fetching valleys. Her breeches outlined long, shapely legs and round, yielding buttocks. Never had male clothing looked so attractive, so enticing, so … delicious. He hoped he would not have to wait long.
Nicholas was not at all used to waiting for the favors of a woman. Typically women he cast his eye upon were all too willing to enthusiastically submit to his every wish and desire, with little effort on his part. Oh, certainly it required the murmuring of a few choice, romantic phrases. Never having been in love, he did not think it particularly ill-advised to use the declaration of that emotion in his amorous conquests. He nearly chuckled aloud at the thought. It certainly hadn’t worked with Sabrina. No matter. Eventually he would determine just what would work. He wanted her and he would have her. It was as simple as that. And he always got what he wanted. He did not accept defeat well.
“What are you staring at?” Sabrina glowered at him.
Nicholas cast her his most polished smile. “You, my lovely wife. A vision of grace and beauty.”
She stared, utter disbelief scrawled across her face. “I’m a vision all right, but hardly one of grace and beauty. I have barely slept. My eyes feel thick and scratchy. My head aches, and turning my neck more than a fraction is extremely painful. Vision? Hah.” She turned back to the sea, muttering under her breath, “I feel like bloody hell.”
Did she say … no, surely he was mistaken. He thought for a moment, then stepped behind her, placing his hands lightly on her neck.
She jerked away and glared. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Since your discomfort is my fault, indirectly at any rate, the least I can do is make amends. Here.” Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her around. He replaced his hands on each side of her neck and gently massaged. “Does this feel at all better?”
Better? she thought. It feels bloody marvelous. She groaned aloud. “Good Lord, yes. It’s exquisite.” Her head fell forward, and his hands traveled down the slope of her neck to her shoulders. Stiffened muscles dissolved under strong, sure fingers. A thought drifted through her mind; what else could those nimble fingers do? She sighed. “Wherever did you learn to do this? Some foreign country?”
He laughed softly. “It’s amazing the little things I’ve picked up on my travels. But this comes from the experience of trying to ease the aches and pains one has after going a few rounds with a fighter the likes of Gentleman Jackson. I frequent his rooms in London.”
Relaxation flowed from his soothing fingers, and Sabrina thought surely she could stand here under his ministering touch forever.
“So you enjoy boxing,” she said absently. “Tell me, do you have any other interests, besides women, I mean. It strikes me I know far less about you than you do about me.”
“Perhaps. Although it appears much of my information about you was in error. So what exactly do you know about me?”
“Oh, this and that. Public knowledge mostly. I have heard you are highly thought of in government circles and expected to make a mark in Parliament. I know your wealth is both impressive and solid.”
“Is that public knowledge as well?”
“Not at all.” She closed her eyes, lulled by his skillful touch. “I had inquiries made.”
His hands stilled on her shoulders. “You inquired about me?”
“Um-hum.”
He gripped her shoulders and spun her around. Sabrina blinked rapidly in astonishment. His voice was stern, but amusement lit his eyes. “Let me see if I understand this. You had inquires made about me, yet you were angered that I had you investigated?”
“That’s different.” She huffed.
“Hardly.” He laughed. “But it’s of no
consequence. It simply puts us on an equal footing. I prefer everything out in the open. I value honesty highly, particularly between men and women.”
“Of course,” she said faintly. “So do I.” She paused, considering his words. “Honesty. As in telling a woman you love her for your own purposes?”
He grinned roguishly and threw her words back at her. “That’s different.”
“I see.” She returned his grin. “So all really is fair in love and war.”
“Precisely.”
Sabrina merely shook her head. The more she was with Nicholas, the more the man worked his way past her defenses. He was every bit as charming as his reputation and far more amusing than she’d expected. She noted with surprise, she actually liked the man.
She had not counted on that when she’d plunged unthinking into this marriage. But since she was tied to him now, perhaps forever, liking him might well be for the best. Still, would that affection be the first step toward love? Loving Nicholas would only spell disaster. She had no doubt a man who used words of love so easily was a man for whom they meant nothing.
No, she would allow herself to like him, even to enjoy his easy wit and flirtatious banter, but she would not permit herself to love him. That was no way to conduct a marriage of convenience.
And there was still that awkward question of honesty. There was much about herself, past and present, she hid from him. Much she was determined to keep hidden forever.
By the time the sun set, Sabrina could barely keep her eyes open. She and Nicholas had spent a pleasant enough day, occupied in idle conversation with no treacherous subjects broached. He seemed to enjoy her company, and slowly she relaxed in his presence, buoyed by the realization that she could indeed drop her guard somewhat without undue risk.
With every hour spent together, more of her true self emerged. Her conversation grew increasingly daring, and she sensed no censure, no disapproval from him. Relief accompanied the realization that Nicholas found her not simply attractive, but interesting and enjoyable as well. She knew of many marriages based on far less.
Sabrina returned to the cabin well before her new husband and wondered what this second night of wedded bliss would bring. She cast a disgusted glance at the chair. Tonight she wished to sleep, not spend hours restlessly searching for comfort. No, he could spend the night in the bloody chair if he chose. Tonight the bed was hers.
She stripped off her clothes, threw them atop a low chest, washed herself with the water from the pitcher, and pulled a night rail from her portmanteau. She tossed the sheer linen garment over her head and let it drift down her body, delighting in the caress of the lightweight fabric. Sabrina, never one for high-necked flannel sleepwear, much preferred the decadent luxury of linen and lace.
The night rail was far more provocative and revealing than she would have wished under the circumstances. Oh well, it could not be helped. If she had suspected she would be in the position of sharing her quarters with a man the likes of Nicholas, perhaps she could have found a bit of flannel, for protection if for no other reason. Her arms reached skyward, and she indulged in a long, luxurious stretch.
“Now that is a fetching sight to welcome a man.” Nicholas stood in the doorway, a grin of appreciation on his face. “Marriage definitely has its benefits.”
“Nicholas.” She sighed, fighting the impulse to cover herself. “Did no one ever teach you to knock before entering a lady’s chamber?”
His grin widened. “I can’t say I remember ever having had complaints before.”
“Well, you have one now.” She kept her voice brisk and businesslike in an effort not to betray the immediate twinge of desire triggered by his presence. It was a disturbingly intimate scene. The tall, broad-shouldered man in the doorway, his dark eyes aglow in the lantern light, and she, dressed only in apparel now suddenly seductive and alluring.
Sabrina drew a deep breath. “I assume you insist on sleeping here again tonight?”
“I can think of no place I’d rather be.” He closed the door firmly and stepped toward her.
“What are you doing?” she snapped, nerves taut.
Nicholas halted and lifted a questioning brow. “I was merely going to sit down to remove my boots. Is that permissible?”
“Of course. I simply…” She shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her mind of unwanted images of his nude, bronzed body. Odd, she hadn’t been troubled by last night’s glimpse of him before now. But, somehow, in the close confines of the cabin, with barely a whisper of linen concealing her, and an undeniable glint of desire in his eyes… “I must be very weary,” she finished lamely.
“No doubt,” he murmured. His gaze wandered over her, intimate and caressing. She wanted to run, to hide. She wanted to stay. Everywhere his glance touched grew hot, singed with a fire she’d never known. Her nipples tightened, and she feared he would see the evidence of her arousal beneath the sheer fabric of her gown. Would see it and then… Heat flushed her face, and an ache throbbed deep within her. The very room itself seemed to pulse and reverberate with the slow simmer of suppressed passion.
The cabin was hot. Very hot. Why had she not noticed it before? It was increasingly difficult to breathe, and she unconsciously fanned her face with her hand. His gaze caught hers, and she froze. Love or no love, would it be so very wrong to take what she wanted? What might well be inevitable? He was, after all, her husband.
“Nicholas, I—” She stepped toward him.
“Sabrina.” Her name was little more than a sigh on his lips, his voice an odd mix of warning and desire.
He pulled her into his arms, and eagerly she met his lips with her own. Current arced between them, and the sizzling sensation radiated through her. His tongue plundered and pillaged, and she countered his demands with her own; teasing, insistent. He smelled of sea and sun. And Sabrina realized, a kiss alone would soon not be enough.
Nicholas wrenched his lips free in an urgent need to taste more of this intoxicating creature. His mouth trailed eagerly down the slope of her neck to where delicate lace framed firm, full breasts. She threw her head back and moaned softly, and he nudged the gown down. The exposed nipple, ripe and tight, beckoned. He groaned and gently pulled it into his mouth. With tongue and teeth, he toyed and teased until her breath came in short gasps and her body molded against his.
He ran his hand along one shapely leg to the firm, succulent curve of her derriere. Slowly he gathered the fine material until his searching fingers found bare flesh. She shuddered beneath his touch, and he drew his hand up along her leg, to the curve of her hip. His fingers trailed across her flat stomach, lower to the guardian nest of silken curls. His hand cupped her, fingers exploring the delicate folds of flesh, now heavy and damp with desire. His arousal pushed hard against her through the fabric of his clothes and hers, determined and demanding. And she did not pull away.
“Nicholas.” She moaned.
He knew the moment she surrendered. Knew the instant she was his for the taking. Satisfaction surged in his veins and he ground his lips against hers, savoring the sweet taste of triumph. The eagerness of her response drowned him in heady anticipation of their coupling.
I shall not give my favors to a man I do not love.
Her words, her ridiculous terms, rang in the back of his mind. He ignored the glimmer of guilt, the merest whisper of shame that nibbled at the fringe of his conscience. This was not an innocent virgin straight from the schoolroom. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. As if to prove his point, Sabrina clung to him, her tongue invading his mouth, her body straining for contact with his.
Would she regret this? Would she hate him for losing control? Would he hate himself?
I have also heard you are a man of honor. A man of your word.
Nicholas groaned to himself. He was a man of his word, perhaps not as scrupulous in his dealings with women as in other areas, but a man of honor nonetheless. The damn woman probably trusted him. God knew, she’d very likely needed the guidance
of a man long before now. He could not disappoint her.
With a strength of will he never dreamed he possessed, Nicholas smoothed her gown back over her hips and pulled his lips from hers, cursing the poor timing of a long-sleeping conscience.
“I believe I’ll sleep on deck tonight.” He turned quickly, before he could change his mind, and headed for the door. He yanked it open and glanced back, nearly losing his determination to leave.
Sabrina stood motionless in the center of the cabin. The lantern light glowed through the translucent fabric of her night rail. Hair and gown in disarray, her lips swollen and bruised, her face flushed. Emerald eyes stared, wide with shock, glazed with passion. He ached to return to her.
Nicholas drew a steadying breath. “You may indeed have the bed.” He nodded curtly and stepped out, closing the door sharply behind him.
Sabrina stared at the closed door, stunned by his abrupt departure. Why did he leave? What had she done?
Never had desire overtaken her like this. Never had she wanted a man with sheer, uncontrolled urgency before. She’d not been with a man since Jack’s death, but even he had never triggered this kind of stark, overwhelming passion.
Weak and shaken by unfulfilled need, she clenched her hands by her side. After thirteen long years she’d found a man who ignited flames of desire with an intensity she’d never dreamed possible. Nicholas. Her husband.
Frustration surged, replaced quickly by a mounting anger flaring within her. Was this some kind of vicious joke? Was he merely trying to prove a point? Prove he could overcome her principles and reservations and expressed wishes and have her anytime he chose? Bloody hell, he nearly had. Her defenses had crumbled under little more than the smoldering look in his eye.
She hugged herself tightly and stalked the length of the cabin. How could she have been such a fool? He was very likely up on deck right now chuckling to himself over his victory. Why he chose to halt when he did made no sense, but it was more than likely part of his plan. Obviously he didn’t really want her. The growing enjoyment they’d found in each other’s company was quite probably a sham. All designed to embarrass her. To put her in her proper place. She meant no more to him than any number of women who came before. No more than a common street slut.
The Perfect Wife Page 10