A Dangerous Game

by Julia Templeton

  In turn, he watched her, his bow stroking the strings, like his fingers had stroked her earlier in her room. His eyes were intense, and she could sense the silent question, What are you doing?

  The side of her mouth lifted slightly, and she increased the tempo, forcing him to catch up. Sweat beaded her brow, but he did not falter, and instead began the game of slowing things down—only to have her pick them up. He always had to have the control when it came to their music...when it came to their lives.

  He had almost lost that control earlier today when she had touched him. She could see the passion in his eyes—the intense need—like he could lose himself in her. Her gaze shifted from his, slowly descending. She could feel him watching her in return.

  Her gaze stopped just at the band of his pants, then abruptly swung back to his face.

  Was that amusement in his eyes? Suddenly he looked at something beyond her shoulder and his hand stopped in midplay—but only for an instant, missing a note...that no one else noticed, save her.

  She did not want to look, too afraid of what she’d find, and waited to do so until the final note. The crowd jumped to their feet and Nicolette stood and took the hand Salvatore offered. He kissed her fingers, then leaned forward. “Your father is here.”

  He could have said anything else, and she would not have been shocked. But she had never expected to hear those words. Salvatore’s eyes locked with hers and he squeezed her hand.

  Curtsying to the crowd, she nodded to the duke and duchess, then let her gaze swing to the right. Her pulse skittered alarmingly as she stared into the familiar blue eyes of the man she never thought to see again. The marquess was older now, but he had not changed much aside from being heavier set, and his auburn hair had gone gray.

  At his elbow was a woman, no doubt his wife...the woman who had taken him from Nicolette and her mother. The marchioness stared at Nicolette, her brows furrowed into a frown, as though she couldn’t quite place her. Well, it would only be a matter of time, because even though she shared her father’s coloring, she resembled her mother.

  Charlotte stepped forward and embraced Nicolette. “That was wonderful. You are truly gifted, my friend.”

  Nicolette nodded. “Thank you.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I have a need to refresh myself. Would you come with me to the withdrawing room?”

  “Of course,” Charlotte replied. She kissed Salvatore’s cheek. “I’ll bring her back posthaste.”

  He nodded, and Nicolette let her fingers slip from his.

  They walked in silence until they were in the withdrawing room, which was thankfully empty, save for two elderly women who talked amongst themselves.

  “The two of you melted every heart in that room. Truly, the way you watched each other had everyone wishing they were you,” Charlotte whispered. “I am absolutely amazed that you are not lovers yet.”

  How she wanted to share the events of the afternoon with her friend, yet she couldn’t. She did not want to sully what had happened.

  “Okay, if you will not tell me, then let me ask you this—who is Lord Wellesley to you?”

  Nicolette stopped in midstride.

  Beside her, Charlotte watched her intently. “He is your father, isn’t he?”

  Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. “Yes.”

  Charlotte watched her intently, and then put her hand on Nicolette’s shoulder. “The marquess is a wonderful man with a good heart.”

  “He left my mother and me to marry another.”

  “I have no doubt it hurt him to do so.”

  The words felt like a slap to the face. How dare her new friend tell her what she should feel, particularly someone who had lived a pampered lifestyle. “You know nothing of what my mother and I went through because of him.”

  Charlotte must have sensed Nicolette’s anger, for she nodded. “Indeed, I spoke carelessly. Simon is an old friend.”

  Nicolette could not believe the timing. Her thoughts were already in turmoil over her seduction of Darian, and now with her father’s arrival, she felt more confused than ever.

  Chapter Ten

  Salvatore wondered how he would tolerate another three days in the company of all these people with whom he could barely stand to be in the same room.

  The footman handed him a large glass of Madeira, which he nursed while trying not to look at the clock again. Where the devil had Nicolette and Charlotte gone? They’d disappeared nearly quarter of an hour ago.

  Perhaps Nic had gone to bed to await Darian? Salvatore scanned the room and found his brother talking to Simon Laurent, who kept glancing his way. Did Nicolette’s father remember him? He had been just a boy the last time he had seen the marquess.

  Before the thought was finished Darian and Simon were walking toward him.

  Salvatore steadied himself and took another drink. Darian smiled and extended his head. “Well done,

  Salvatore,” he said, speaking like they were lifelong friends. How fickle those of the ton were.

  “Thank you,” Salvatore replied, finally glancing at Simon. Nicolette had her father’s eyes, right down to the rare color.

  “Salvatore, may I present Simon Laurent, Marquess of Wellesley.”

  Simon extended his hand and Salvatore took it.

  Salvatore nodded. “A pleasure, my lord.”

  “You are a talented musician, Salvatore. As is your partner.”

  “What she would give to hear those words,” Salvatore said, releasing the other man’s hand, finding it rather unsettling to look into the same eyes as his partner.

  “They had been playing throughout Europe these past five years. It is only recently they’ve found rousing success here in London,” Darian added.

  “Where are you from originally?” Simon asked, brow furrowed.

  Immediately on his guard, Salvatore considered lying, but knew it would only make him look guilty. “Originally from London.”

  The side of Simon’s mouth lifted in a smile. “I have spent my entire life in London. I’ve always enjoyed the city.”

  Salvatore took another sip of his drink. “I prefer Paris myself, as does my partner.”

  At the mention of Nicolette, the marquess straightened. “I would very much like to meet your partner.”

  Salvatore’s heart missed a beat seeing Nicolette. “Well, then you are in luck, for she is coming this way.”

  The marquess seemed to pale.

  Salvatore smiled at Nicolette, who kept her gaze level with his. He extended his hand and she took it. She trembled. “You are just in time to meet the new arrival. Nicolette, may I present Simon Laurent, the Marquess of Wellesley.”

  Nicolette nodded and curtsied. “Lord Wellesley, it is an honor.”

  Simon searched her face, his lips curving into a smile. “You have the look of your mother.”

  Salvatore squeezed her hand tight, in quiet reassurance. “Thank you, my lord,” Nicolette replied.

  She stiffened when her father kissed her hand softly.

  “I have waited a long time to meet you.”

  Darian appeared suddenly perplexed with the situation. “Tell me, how is your lovely wife?” he asked, breaking into the conversation.

  Salvatore smiled inwardly. Obviously Darian had misinterpreted Simon’s interest in Nicolette.

  Simon released Nicolette’s hand and turned to their host. “Henrietta is fine, as always. She wishes to travel to Italy come spring, while I return to London for the Season.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. Nicolette.” It was Darian’s mother, who exchanged a curt nod with Simon. “Elizabeth is not feeling well. Darian, could you see your fiancée to her room?”

  Salvatore glanced over where Elizabeth sat with her parents. She indeed looked rather flushed. “Of course. Will you pleas
e excuse me?”

  “It has been a long day. Salvatore, will you see me to my room?” Nicolette asked, a touch too quickly. “My lord, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  Without another word, she all but dragged Salvatore toward the door.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling?” Salvatore asked, worried at her pallor.

  “I want this day to be over. The sooner the better.” She stopped outside her door and managed a small smile. “Just make sure you don’t leave us alone for too long.”

  He nodded. “I promise.”

  *****

  Nicolette sat up in bed, her emotions in turmoil. Her father’s presence made everything so complicated. She hated that she was second-guessing herself and her reasons for continuing on with this seduction of Darian Tremayne.

  Salvatore had noticed Simon Laurent’s arrival as well, having remembered him from the theater at which his mother and Nicolette’s mother had performed. Simon had been a regular visitor, and Salvatore had recounted the moments when the marquess would bring him a treat, pat him on the head, then tell him to find something to do, as all the women used to share a small room.

  Which meant that Simon Laurent certainly knew who Salvatore was. Though he’d been a boy back then, Salvatore was easily recognizable by his exotic looks, and golden eyes. It wouldn’t take long for the marquess to put two and two together. He knew Darian well, that much was obvious, and he knew Darian’s father even better. They had run in the same circles, courted women together, and no doubt he would think it strange that Franklin Tremayne’s illegitimate son would come calling at Kedgwick Manor.

  Nicolette’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. They would be discovered. Perhaps right now, at this very moment, her father was telling Darian everything. Salvatore had told her not to worry...yet she couldn’t help be concerned.

  Perhaps it would be wise to abandon the seduction. She started for the door, intent on talking to Salvatore about it.

  A soft knock stopped her dead in her tracks. She glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was still too early for it to be Darian, which meant it was probably Salvatore. Maybe he was here to tell her they needed to leave.

  Or, dear God, would it be her father come to talk to her privately?

  She grabbed her robe, put it on and walked toward the door, pushing her fear aside with every step. Saying a silent prayer, she opened the door.

  Her breath left her in a rush.

  Darian stood before her, his jacket unbuttoned, and his hair disheveled, as though he’d been running his fingers through the short, raven locks.

  Damn! It was far too early! Nicolette glanced at Salvatore’s door, praying it would open and he would step out.

  Darian’s gaze slid over her. “I know it’s before the appointed hour...”

  Hearing a door open down the hall, he pushed her inside and shut the door behind him.

  “From the first moment I saw you, I hoped to have you. Now, I don’t want this night to end.”

  Red-hot fear raced through her as she took a step back. “You were not to come until midnight.”

  He took the steps that separated them and pulled her into his arms. “I could not wait until tonight.” His hands were at the fastening of her gown, already unbuttoning it.

  She jumped away. “I think later would be better.”

  Darian frowned. “What game do you play, Nicolette? Are you meeting another man?”

  “No!”

  “Lord Wellesley perhaps?”

  She flinched. If only he knew. “Definitely not.” She braced her hands against his arms. “I wanted to prepare myself for you.”

  “There is no improving on perfection, my sweet.”

  A moment later she was swept up in his arms, and he was striding toward her bed...just as Salvatore had done earlier that day. The difference was that with Salvatore her body had hummed, her hands seeking his body, wanting to experience everything he had to give her. Now, with Darian she felt dirty, horrible, and she pushed against him so hard, he dropped her to her feet and stumbled back.

  “What is this about?” he asked, his expression teetering between disbelief and rage. She swallowed hard, her mind clamoring for any excuse. “I did not...”

  The door opened against Darian’s back, but he blocked it with his boot. “Nicolette!” Charlotte’s voice called from the other side.

  Thank God!

  She looked to Darian, who shook his head, imploring her to silence.

  “Yes, I am here,” Nicolette called.

  Darian closed his eyes.

  “Then for heaven’s sake, open the door,” Charlotte said, as the doorknob turned once more.

  Nicolette walked toward the door, Darian’s eyes narrowed. “Do not open that door,” he said under his breath.

  “I have to.”

  “Nicolette...” Charlotte’s voice was full of trepidation.

  His eyes were imploring.

  Nicolette sighed. “Charlotte, I am fine.”

  “Phooey, open the door. I have something to share with you.”

  Nicolette reached for the doorknob again.

  Darian shook his head. “Do not open it,” he whispered.

  “Hide,” Nicolette said with a forced smile. Darian’s eyes searched hers, and realizing she wasn’t about to give in, he walked toward the window, where he disappeared behind the velvet drape.

  Releasing an unsteady breath, Nicolette opened the door. Charlotte’s brows were practically to her hairline. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were having a liaison, my dear.”

  She looked toward the curtain and Charlotte’s eyes lit up, and Nicolette mouthed the word, “Darian”.

  Charlotte pursed her lips. “I just passed Salvatore in the hall. He said you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I would come and check on you myself.” Charlotte stepped past Nicolette and walked toward the balcony, just a few feet from where Darian stood. “What a beautiful night it is.”

  How she loved this new friend of hers. “Yes, it is.”

  “You know, I am growing weary of being in this house with all these old fogies. Give me London any day of the week....”

  “It is not so bad.”

  Charlotte sighed. “Perhaps it is the arrival of the duke and duchess. They look down their noses at everyone. When I just passed them in the hallway, they were asking me if I knew Darian’s whereabouts? The duchess would not even look me in the eye. Instead, she glanced at the low décolletage of my gown, then fanned herself as though she would faint.”

  “She does not approve of me either.”

  “She seems to forget that she and my mother were good friends, and I know all about the hell she caused in court.” Charlotte snickered good-naturedly, while rolling her eyes. “By the way, do you happen to know where Darian is off to? I believe the countess is having the servants scour the house as we speak. I would hate to see him come up missing during this most grand event.”

  Darian stepped out from behind the curtain and Charlotte feigned surprise. “Why, Darian, what in the world are you doing here?”

  Looking irritated, Darian ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Dearest Charlotte, though I have the feeling you knew all along I was here, I will take the higher road and ask for your silence in this matter.”

  Charlotte’s lips quirked. “Darling, this will be our little secret, though you should know better than anyone that servants have a tendency to talk...especially servants who enjoy having their hands greased.”

  Darian looked affronted. “My staff is loyal.”

  Charlotte lifted a brow. “Come, Darian, everyone has a price. You know that.”

  “And you?”

  Her gaze shifted from his, moving slowly downward. Nicolette could not believe the brazenness of the woma
n, but secretly applauded her for such daring.

  Darian did not share her good humor. If looks could kill, Charlotte would be dead. “I had better go,” Darian said, stepping past them. “Charlotte, would you be so kind as to check the hallway?”

  “You want me to be your accomplice?” she asked, managing to sound shocked. The woman could give the most seasoned actress a run for her money.

  “I ask you to do what any friend would.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Very well, but I am only slipping into the hall for a moment. I suggest you stay out of the way in case someone comes barging in here unannounced.”

  Charlotte swept into the hallway and Darian took Nicolette by the shoulders. “I do not know if we will ever find the time to be alone, but know this much, Nicolette. We are not finished here. Not by half. I want you in my bed, and in my bed you shall be.” It looked like he was about to kiss her—when Charlotte walked back into the room. “The hallway is clear, but the duke is down on the first-floor landing. Perhaps the servants’ staircase would be a better route.”

  “Thank you,” he said, slipping out the door, no doubt heading for the servants’ staircase.

  Nicolette shut the door behind him and breathed a heavy sigh. “Thank God!”

  Standing in the middle of the room, Charlotte watched Nicolette intently. “Tell me what’s going on, Nicolette. I do not understand why Darian was here, particularly when you told me you were quite interested in Salvatore.”

  There was no jealousy in the other woman’s voice or expression—just curiosity.

  Charlotte crossed her arms, pushing her generous cleavage to her throat. “Your lips are swollen from his kisses.”

  Unable to meet her steady gaze, Nicolette blurted, “He wants me.”