by Anne O'Brien
‘Of course.’ He rose to his feet and bowed. ‘It is my intention.’
He made his way down to the library, deep in thought. He had not thought himself to be so transparent, but perhaps where Theodora was concerned, his emotions were clear to all. And now he knew. That was one of her secrets laid bare. Would she be willing to tell him herself? But there was, of course, a far deeper mystery. Would she ever be willing to tell him why she had worked so hard to end any relationship between them? Her explanation that it was too complicated to explain her aberrant behaviour was no answer at all.
And that, he knew with some disquiet, was no sound basis for any lasting relationship, no matter the undoubted attraction between them.
Yet after all that, did it matter? The connection between them, some basic inexplicable attraction, had not been severed in spite of all Theodora’s amazing efforts to give him a disgust of her. His mind might say that it did, but his heart would deny it.
Thea awoke from a deep healing sleep and stretched luxuriously, at one with herself and the world. No dreams had troubled her, no memory of the horror of the Maidens’ attack now assailed her. She pushed herself up on to her elbows, her spirits fully restored. It was late evening, as she could see by the quality of the light—she must have slept for hours. Shadows lurked in the corners of the room and encroached on to the edge of the bed, yet she felt alert and restored.
The little maid who still sat beside her smiled.
‘Are you well, mistress?’
‘Yes.’ Thea returned the smile. ‘I feel alive again.’
She got up, dismissed the maid with grateful thanks, and lifted the cover on a little tray that had been left for her, since it seemed that her appetite had been restored also. She drank a glass of wine, ate a little bread and cheese and fruit. Having no clothes other than the riding habit in which she had arrived the previous day, she donned her riding skirt—brushed clean of the dust of her adventures—and the long-sleeved blouse, pinning her sapphire and diamond brooch at the high neck.
She must see Agnes, of course.
One of the maids escorted her to Mistress Drew’s room. Since she found that lady tucked comfortably into bed and sleeping, with no sign of fever or discomfort, her bound wrist resting easily on the coverlet, Thea withdrew. And then her courage wavered. She stood outside Agnes’s room and thought as the somewhat hazy memories crowded in. She must now find Lord Nicholas. She must thank him for his timely rescue, apologise for her appalling weakness when she had lost all control over her senses and actions. Overcome the embarrassment which even now brought colour to her cheeks as she recalled how she had wept in his arms and, with so little will of her own, had allowed him to carry her to her room. Not that she remembered much of that. What must he think of her? She must explain somehow. It was not a task she relished.
So first she would see how her mare had fared.
It was an easy matter for her to find her way to the stables. They were now deserted of the grooms and Master Furness, dim and warm at the end of a sun-filled day. Silent except for the shifting of hooves on straw, the occasional snort and wicker of a restless horse. Stray beams of sun, the final gleams, still lanced through the windows, layers of brightness in the gloom, the dust motes dancing. But the shadows were deep and calming, the scents of straw and leather and horses familiar and welcoming. What a restful place it was at the end of a day.
Thea looked in on a mare and foal, who looked back at her with large unblinking eyes. A chestnut mare stretched her nose over the stall door for her visitor to scratch. And then there was The Zephyr. The mare turned her gleaming body, the faint dapples in her neck glowing in the light, and limped towards her as Thea softly called her name. And leaned against her hand, allowing Thea to scratch along the soft line of her jaw.
‘Poor Zephyr! You are safe now. How frightened you must have been. I was afraid too.’
But now there appeared to be no residue of that fear. The Zephyr returned to pulling strands from a hay net, tossing her head. If she were well enough to eat, there could be little wrong. Somewhat like herself, Thea mused. She leaned her arms along the top of the door and watched, content simply to be still and quiet.
‘Theodora.’
The soft voice from the open door made her fingers tighten their grip on the wooden ledge, her heart make a leap into her throat. She turned her head—and was stunned by the sight of him. And immediately wished that she had been given longer to decide what she could possibly say to him, how she could possibly respond in his presence.
Lord Nicholas stood in the shadows, just inside the door, making no movement towards her, his coat removed and slung negligently over his shoulder so that the white of his shirt glimmered. She could see neither his face, nor gauge the expression in his single word of greeting, so she made no reply. Simply waited.
‘Theodora. You look better—rested. Have you eaten?’ He walked towards her, his boots making little sound on the straw-strewn surface, to stop a few feet away from her. A breathing space. Now she could see him and allowed her eyes to search his face. His eyes were dark, deep blue and still as shaded pools. His mouth firm-lipped, unsmiling, as if he, too, awaited some desired outcome. She had no idea what he might be thinking. Why was the man so difficult to read? But how beautiful he was, the dark hair and well-formed features. That lithe, agile figure, which moved with such elegant assurance. Any woman would want him. She wanted him.
And when he saw her illuminated in that soft beam of dusty sunshine, all his doubts vanished, dry chaff in a breath of air. She was beautiful. She was safe and alive and free of danger. She was any man’s dream of perfection. But she could be his. It was all as simple as that. He would willingly sink for ever into the depths of those magnificent dark-lashed eyes, gleaming sapphire flecked with gold. Those slender-fingered hands, so capable, which had last clung to him in an agony of fearful anguish, held his heart. The thought might terrify him. He could not wish it any other way.
‘Thea—’
‘I need to apologise, my lord,’ she interrupted, suddenly nervous. ‘I reacted without sense or courage. I have no excuses. Sir Hector and Lady Drusilla would have been ashamed of me indeed. I did not intend to embarrass you …’
Lord Nicholas waited no longer. In one stride he covered the space between them, lifting his hand to touch her lips with a brush of fingers, to stop the flow of words.
‘Hush, Thea. There is no need.’ He smoothed the fullness of her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, a most sensuous caress that took her breath. And his. Would she tell him the cause of her unreasonable fears? Perhaps she would eventually, but this was the time for him to take her in his arms and show her what it could be like when a man desired a woman as much as he desired her. So he silenced her and, with the supreme confidence of a man lost in love, bared his own soul to her.
‘Do you still not know? Are you still so unaware? I love you. I would do anything to protect you, to stand against the world for you. I love you Thea.’ He hesitated, as if he feared to reveal all, but his eyes never left hers, blinding in their honesty. ‘I have known it since the moment I first saw you, first heard your voice, but refused to acknowledge it. It is not in my nature to accept a sensation so overwhelming, or so extreme. It seemed to me that you took away my choices. But there it is.’ Now he lifted a hand to tease the wisps of curl on her cheek. ‘I think that you are meant to be here in my arms. You are the love of my life.’
‘Nicholas …’
‘Does it distress you?’ His laugh was low and seductive to a lady who could have dreamed of no more splendid gift than this. ‘You are free to reject me, of course.’
‘No. Oh, no. I am so … I cannot find the words to say it.’ Thea echoed his laugh. ‘The events of the day appear to have robbed me of coherent thought.’
‘I wish you would say them.’ His answering smile was rueful as he took possession of her wrists, to lift them and press his mouth to the soft inner skin where her pulse beat with a feverish
intensity that had nothing to do with her health. ‘Unless it is your intent to kill me by cruel suspense.’
‘Ah, Nicholas. Don’t you know it? I love you.’ She found her voice at last. It was easy to say the words that had been in her mind and heart for so many weeks. ‘I thought that I had destroyed any chance of that love, and mourned it bitterly. I do not ever want us to be apart.’
‘Then there is no need. Smile at me.’
She did. Her face was radiant. When he took her hands to lift them to his lips, she tightened her fingers around his as if she would never let him go.
‘I am not an Earl,’ he murmured against her palm.
‘I do not want an Earl.’
‘I am not as wealthy as the Earl of Moreton.’ He kissed the soft swell of flesh at the base of her thumb.
‘I am not interested in the Earl of Moreton’s wealth.’ Thea held her breath.
‘Theodora …’ With utmost delicacy, he applied his lips to her other palm. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes.’ There was no uncertainty here.
‘I should ask Sir Hector for his permission to address you. But I think it more important that I discover your views on the matter.’ His teeth nibbled along the ends of her fingers.
‘Of course.’ He could hear her smile in her voice. ‘As any sensible man must. Yes and yes.’
Now he looked up, released her hands. ‘Then my lips will seal the bond between us. For all time.’
‘As will mine.’
And her fears? Theodora jettisoned them all. Her love for him was too great to consider any limitations against it. She would risk everything for the love and desire that she could read in that moment in his face. Her fears might never happen. She would marry her lord, her love, and consign those groundless terrors to some deep dark spot, never to be reborn.
So when Nicholas drew her forward, close into the circle of his arms, Thea accepted without regret. Drawing her firmly against him, he lowered his mouth to hers. She responded with all the delight that he could have hoped for, allowing her hands to smooth over the soft, warm linen of his shirt, savouring the play of firm muscle beneath, from wrist to shoulder. Until he flinched on a gasp and pulled away.
‘What is it? What did I do?’ She searched his face with anxious eyes.
‘A bruise. Courtesy of our lady rioters.’ He shrugged against the pull of muscle and sinew where the heavy blow from a cudgel had fallen.
‘Oh, Nicholas. That you should have been hurt for my sake, when I could do nothing to help myself or you …’
‘It is nothing. I would do anything for you, Thea. Anything to keep you from harm or distress.’
‘Then kiss me again,’ she invited, ‘if it will help you to forget the pain.’
So he did. The tenderness of before was now overlaid by a hint of possession. A hunger. His kiss more demanding, his arms strongly banded around her to hold her in submission against the hard strength of his chest and thighs. Until the breathing of both was heightened. And he stepped away.
‘You are too desirable.’
But Thea stepped forward, surprising him, reluctant to forgo the amazing needs that flooded through her body at the evidence of Nicholas’s fierce desire for her. ‘And you would reject that?’
‘I must.’
‘You did once before, as I recall.’ Thea angled her head to watch him, allowing her hands to linger on the flat planes of his chest, her eyes alight. His concern for her touched her more than she would ever tell him.
‘I know.’ A sudden grin lifted the tension. ‘It was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life.’
‘Then why repeat it?’
She took another step until her body almost brushed his and her hands could clasp together around her neck, more than a little startled at her own forwardness.
As was Nicholas. He choked on a laugh. ‘Are you fast, madam? What would Mistress Drew say?’ His heart beat with insistent rhythm. His command of his body and his senses appeared to be slipping from his grasp, second by second.
‘It seems that I am where you are concerned, my lord.’ A low husky chuckle was almost his undoing. And Agnes would not approve.’
‘Thea—’ He tried for sanity, taking a light hold of her shoulders to keep her at bay. ‘I would not hurt you—or give cause for condemnation in the eyes of the world, no matter the provocation.’ Without thought, he turned his face against her hair. ‘Do you realise how impossible it is for me to resist you? You are delicious and desirable beyond imagination.’
‘Why should you resist?’ In her voice the temptation of Eve, in her hands, in the softness of her skin. Her lips were so close, the warmth of her breath so sweet, Are you going to break your promise—of only one minute ago—to marry me? ‘And you a man of honour, my lord!’
He was lost. Completely. Utterly. Acknowledged it with a sigh against her temple. ‘No. I want you. I will not renege.’
‘Then kiss me again. Unless you do not wish to, of course.’ Her lips formed a delicious—and tantalising—moue of disappointment.
‘Do you know what you ask?’ He held her lightly, torn between amusement and frustration. Virgin and temptress, innocent and wanton. How could he be expected to resist her? How could any man?
He could not, of course. ‘My inclination is not in question. It is my self-control that has suddenly become compromised. But you, my love, must be quite certain.’
‘Oh, yes. I told my mother that if I never married I would take a lover. It seems to me that if I can do both at the same time, I would have every advantage.’
He laughed, despite himself. ‘I cannot imagine such a conversation.’
‘I think that Lady Drusilla did not approve.’
‘But I like the sentiment. And I like you.’
‘I am relieved. How humiliating it would be for me if you decided that we would not suit. After showing such lack of delicacy.’ She waited, for the long beat of her heart.
His reply was quite serious, stern even. ‘There will be no humiliation. It will please me to worship you with my body. There can be no shame. Nothing but the new, bright splendour of our love.’ Nicholas dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her, swung her in a circle to replace her on her feet. ‘What a delight you are to me.’ His kiss was swift and thorough, a promise of the pleasures that he could bring to her. Then he lifted her into his arms, as if her weight was nothing, carried her to an open stall, freshly swept with a bed of sweet straw and lowered her there to her feet in the middle. Covered the straw with his ill-used coat.
‘Do you realise that this is the second time today that I have begun to undress you?’ he asked conversationally, even though his fingers were not quite steady at the task. ‘Last time I took the coward’s way and retreated in disorder.’
‘Why would you do that?’ There was no mistaking the firtatiousness in her voice, but she awaited his reply with some anxiety.
‘It was not seemly.’ He applied himself to the intricate catch of the brooch at her throat. ‘Why did you have to wear something so difficult!’ But the catch sprang free beneath skilful fingers. ‘You were distressed—not aware of me or your surroundings. When I undress you, I want you to be aware of my every movement, every touch. Every lingering caress.’ He leaned to press his mouth to the exact place where the pulse beat above the high neck of her blouse.
His reply, his action, heated her blood. ‘I am aware now.’
‘Also, I did not think Mistress Drew would enjoy the sight of you unclothed in my arms.’ His fingers sought the buttons at her lace cuffs.
‘Mistress Drew is not here now.’
‘No. She is not.’ A wealth of meaning spoke in this low reply, in the fierce light in his eyes as they now found and held hers. Theodora knew that she was entirely at his mercy—and rejoiced in it.
‘Don’t stop this time, my lord.’
‘No. Not unless you would wish it.’ Her cuffs were loosened, allowing him to concentrate on the row of tiny buttons from nape to w
aist.
‘I definitely would not wish it.’ Tremors of anticipation raced across her skin. But also nerves. A little fear. A heady need for the experience drove her on, but her dependence on this man was not to be taken lightly.
Reading her fears, Nicholas abandoned his task to let his hands fall by his sides. He simply wanted her. He was hard and hot and ready, driven now by his body’s desire to take and own her. The blood throbbed in his loins, yet he still had a care for her inexperience. He had felt the tremors that had shivered along her spine and would not willingly push her beyond what she was prepared to give.
‘I think you have no idea of your effect on me.’ His voice was low to soothe, the desire for her swiftly banked. ‘But it is not too late. Tell me honestly, my dear love, that this is what you want. I would not distress you. You have my love, regardless of the outcome between us this night.’
At his words of understanding, a delicate warmth touched her, dispelling her doubts as mist lifts at the rising of the sun. She raised her hand to his cheek, to brush the fine cheekbone with soft finger tips. ‘How considerate you are. I am yours, Nicholas. I would like very much to be held in your arms.’
Lord Nicholas bowed. A strangely formal gesture given the circumstances and the setting. But it calmed Thea’s fears. ‘I will take care of you.’
Once again, with something like a hiss of frustration, he applied himself to the tiny buttons.
‘I should tell you, my lord—I have no experience of this, despite my somewhat unconventional upbringing.’
‘I know it.’ The linen and lace blouse fell in a delicate heap to the straw.
‘Lady Drusilla has been informative, but I expect she omitted some salient facts.’
‘I am sure that she did.’ With a grunt of acknowledgement he bent his head to the fastenings of the skirt at her slim waist.