A delicious warmth began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way downward to her most private place. Already she yearned to slip away to her quarters and experience the magic of last night.
The crowd seemed to part and Darian walked toward her in long strides. “You are just in time, Nicolette. The few women who have managed to pull themselves up from their slumber are about to give it a go. How about it?”
Challenge sparkled in his dark eyes, and she lifted a brow. “I would love to challenge anyone, including you, my lord.”
Had that been flirtation she heard in her voice? Good gracious she had come a long way in a week’s time.
“I would enjoy that very much,” he said, motioning for her to ready herself.
With every step that brought her closer to Salvatore, Nicolette told herself to remain calm and pretend that last night had been nothing but a tutorial for her. Yet as she reached her partner, she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him, feel his heart pound against her own, and to feel the sweet taste of his lips once more.
“Good morning,” Salvatore said, handing her the bow and arrow.
She took the bow with trembling hand, and fought to keep the arrow in place. “Good morning.”
“You are nervous?” Salvatore asked, his scent surrounding her, warming her, lulling her.
“No,” she said, too soon and he grinned.
He leaned into her. “You can beat every one of these women who scarcely look like they can handle a bow.”
His confidence encouraged her, and taking a deep breath, she extended her arm, and released. The arrow hit the rim of the outside ring. She did not glance at Salvatore. She notched another arrow and stared at the target, concentrating on nothing else. She extended her arm again and released. This time, the arrow hit square in the middle and applause exploded all around.
“Bravo, Nic,” Salvatore said, handing her yet another arrow. “Show them what you are made of.”
She did not disappoint, as arrow after arrow hit its mark. She stepped back and watched while Lady Becket shot erratically, sometimes hitting the furthest ring of the target, other times missing the target altogether.
While she watched, Nicolette stood at Salvatore’s side, more aware of him than the contest going on. She watched him beneath lowered lashes, taking in his beauty, his self-assuredness amongst all these titled lords. Sadly she realized, he belonged here, for all that he thought he did not. He was their equal in every way, and honestly, a better man than the whole lot combined.
Sensing she was being watched, she looked up to find Charlotte standing across from her. The other woman’s gaze shifted to Salvatore, then back to Nicolette. Her lips curved. Nicolette smiled and felt the telltale signs of a blush stain her cheeks.
“Lady Mariweather,” Darian said, causing all to turn toward him. “Would you like to try your hand at besting our current champion?”
Charlotte’s brows lifted and she smiled sweetly. “I fear I would be no match for one so young and fair.”
The men around her laughed but Darian approached with bow in hand. “Oh come, I know you to be quite good at archery.”
Charlotte stiffened her spine. “I have not been in practice.”
Darian lifted a dark brow. “You are afraid?”
The words held a challenge, one that Charlotte accepted, for she all but ripped the bow from his hand.
The men all shouted their encouragement as she took her place beside Nicolette. Wearing a flattering gown of blue silk, and a tri-corn hat with a huge white feather, Charlotte looked ready for a ride through Hyde Park rather than a day in the country. Pulling back on the string, she released and the arrow hit dead center.
The men went wild. “You have found your match, Miss Nicolette,” Darian said, an amused smile on his face.
“Indeed, I have,” Nicolette replied.
Only once did Charlotte miss the target, and that was when Lady Becket went into a coughing fit.
“Now side by side,” Darian said, motioning for Nicolette to take her place.
Charlotte grinned. “May the best woman win.”
Salvatore leaned forward and whispered in Nicolette’s ear, “You can best her, I know you can.” His hot breath stirred her hair and she nodded.
Darian cleared his throat loudly. “At the ready? Go!”
Nicolette released and held her breath as the arrow hit square in the middle of the target. Charlotte’s arrow had veered just the slightest bit, and it hit just shy of center.
“You did it!” Salvatore pulled her into his arms and swung her about. She dropped the bow and wrapped her arms about his neck, sharing his smile and his happiness, aware of his body in a way she had never been before.
“Congratulations, Nicolette.” Darian’s voice was edged with steel, interrupting the moment. Salvatore set her on her feet and she turned to their host.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Will you be joining us for a ride?” His brows were lifted in question, his dark eyes intense.
“Of course.”
He leaned forward and whispered, “I am glad you are not wearing your breeches, for I would have a hard time concentrating on the ride ahead.”
By the wicked expression on his face, she knew what type of riding he had in mind.
She forced a smile she did not feel. “I would not want to be held responsible for injuring you, my lord.”
“Ah, Nicolette. You can hurt me in any way you would like.” His tone was positively sinful.
Her cheeks blazed red. Nicolette turned her attention to the woman who had graciously let her win and smiled.
Charlotte returned the smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
No doubt Charlotte thought her daft. One moment she said she wanted Salvatore, the next she flirted with Darian. If only she could tell her the truth.
“Come,” Darian said, extending his arm to her.
She took the elbow he offered, and walked toward the stables, the others on their heels.
“You surprise me, Nicolette,” Darian said, his strides long, no doubt in an effort to get away from the others.
“In what way?”
The sides of his mouth curved. “In many ways. Who would have thought a musician, a woman at that, would be so skilled with a bow? You ride like a man, and do whatever your heart pleases. You do not care about the strictures of society, do you?”
“Should I?”
He shrugged. “I think we all have boundaries—some are just broader than others.”
“What if you had not been an earl’s son? What would you have done with your life?”
He frowned, contemplating. “I think I would have liked to be a sea captain, or perhaps a soldier.”
“Perhaps the Royal Navy?”
“No, my father would never allow it. I was the only heir, and he did not want to risk me being killed. I always admired the Duke of Marlborough. He was not only a brilliant soldier, but a very wise business man.”
“Indeed, he was. But you know, his wife was very wise and managed the businesses while he was away fighting.”
He laughed, the sound low and pleasing, and she smiled up at him. How he resembled his brother. The way the corners of their mouths curved just so. The shape of their eyes, the long, thick lashes.
The smile left Darian’s face. “I will go up in flames if you continue to look at me that way.”
She dropped her gaze from his, embarrassed that he had misinterpreted what he saw in her eyes. If only he knew he had a brother. “So, you are an only child? Do you wish you had siblings?”
“Of course. I think all only children do.”
“Would you prefer a brother or sister?”
He bit his lower lip as he contemplated the question. “Wel
l, I suppose I would enjoy having a sister to dote on, though I fear I would be quite overbearing. A brother would be equally nice, though I must say I would want to be firstborn. I have many a friend who are second, third and even fourth sons, who envy their oldest sibling their birth status. I would hate to have such a rift with a person so dear to me.”
Nicolette nodded, and Darian pulled her closer. “And what of you, Nicolette? Do you have siblings?”
“No, I do not.”
“I imagine Salvatore is like a brother?”
She frowned. “No, not at all.”
He pursed his lips. “Ah, so I was right—you are lovers.”
When he said the words before, she had taken offense, but now she had no defense. Unashamed of her love for Salvatore, she smiled up at Darian. “Think what you will, my lord.”
“You will always keep me guessing, won’t you, my dear?”
She was saved from replying as they came upon the stables. Darian released her arm abruptly, and Nicolette immediately knew the reason. Simon Laurent had rounded the corner and came toward them, a pleasant smile on his face.
Somehow in all these years she’d built a wall, believing that he could never touch her. “I had best pick my mount before the others join us,” Nicolette said, and without waiting for a response, she turned and with a trembling hand, reached for the door to the stables, opening it with more force than necessary. A groom met her with a surprised smile, and as she passed him by, she knew she had to keep her emotions under control.
She went directly to the horse she’d ridden since her arrival at Kedgwick Hall, smiling as it nuzzled her hand. “How are you today, my beauty?”
The stable door opened and closed.
“Miss Nicolette, is that you?”
The marquess’s voice sent a shiver up her spine. This meeting had been inevitable since the moment she saw him at the base of the stage. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she turned and met her father face-to-face. They were alone, and there was no one else to hide behind.
“Indeed it is, my lord.”
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment before saying, “You bear a striking resemblance to a woman I once knew. You have the same bone structure, the same beautiful color of hair.”
A door opened and Simon turned. Nicolette looked past his shoulder to see Henrietta, the marquess’s wife, walking toward them, her expression impossible to read. “There you are, my darling,” she said, her voice rather high and a bit forced.
Nicolette watched Henrietta closely, wondering again what the woman possessed that had won over Simon. Certainly it was not her looks. Though slightly attractive, she did not hold a candle to Nicolette’s mother’s beauty. It had to be money or social standing.
“Darling, this is Nicolette. Remember, the pianist who played last night?”
“Ah, yes indeed,” the marchioness said with a small nod. “You are incredibly talented.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he said, “Well, we have taken up more of your time than intended. We shall see you this evening.”
When the door closed behind them, Nicolette sank to the bale of hay. There was no question in her mind that he knew she was his daughter. What would be the best action to take? Perhaps she should try to find Salvatore and tell him what had happened.
The door opened and closed again, and Nicolette waited for her father to reappear.
“Who is he to you?” Darian asked, his voice on the edge of demanding.
He entered the stable and crossed his arms over his chest.
Nicolette didn’t respond to his question.
“The first time I met you, I realized that you reminded me of someone, but I could not place who this person was, but it has haunted me for days. I think I know what the marquess is to you.”
Nicolette swallowed hard.
“He is your father, isn’t he?”
She felt like a butterfly pinned to the wall, the way his dark eyes penetrated her, almost accusing.
He took a step closer, pulled her up against him. “Why are you here, Nicolette?”
She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you here at Kedgwick Hall? What are you about? One minute you flutter your eyelashes, devote songs to me, kiss me, tell me that you will be my lover, yet when it comes to the act, you find any excuse to deny me.” His fingers tightened around her arms. “So tell me, who are you really, and what do you want with me?”
Straightening her spine, she met his gaze unflinchingly. “I think you are a very handsome man, and as you stated yourself—I go after what I want, with no thought of consequence. I saw you, and from that moment I knew I wanted you.”
His dark eyes searched hers, seeking the truth, and she did not dare bat an eyelash. Her gaze slid to his lips and she went up on her toes and kissed him.
The grip on her arms loosened, and then he crushed her to him, his lips hard, demanding, desperate.
Her arms encircled his neck, and she forced herself to relax, to do what she must in order to gain his trust and put from his mind any suspicion.
She pulled away slightly, looking up at his dark, wild eyes. “Tonight. No more excuses. No more waiting.”
The triumphant smile disappeared as he claimed her lips once more, his hands pulling her against him. “See what you do to me?” He took one of her hands and guided it to his thick erection.
Her hand trembled, and her stomach curled to her throat. How could she be intimate with this man? How could she touch him like she had Salvatore?
An image of her mother and the women from the brothel came to mind. Those women had no choice. Her mother had had no choice. She had given her body because she had needed to, and Nicolette would do the same. She would simply do the act, go through the motions, and tell herself that it had been duty, that her love for Salvatore had made her do just that.
*****
Salvatore did not like the silence.
Charlotte’s hand tightened on his arm. Inside the stable she nodded toward the closed stall. From his height, he could see Darian and Nicolette. The two were kissing, Darian’s mouth hard on Nicolette’s...and she clung to him, her arms entwined about his brother’s neck, her eyes closed, her soft sighs telling him in an instant that either she was a remarkable actress, or she enjoyed what his brother was doing to her.
“Tonight. No more excuses. No more waiting.” It was Nicolette’s voice. An instant later a growl escaped Darian and the two were kissing once more.
“See what you do to me?” Darian said in a gruff voice.
Salvatore did not have to guess what Darian spoke about. His heart missed a beat, imagining Nicolette touching the other man intimately.
Charlotte frowned at the stall door, then before Salvatore could stop her, she pushed it open, pulling Salvatore along with her. Darian and Nicolette jumped apart.
“Oh, you startled me,” Charlotte said, putting hand to heart, and looking back over her shoulder at Salvatore, imploring him to play along. “Salvatore and I were just looking for—”
“A quiet place to talk,” Salvatore finished for her, noting the guilty look on Nicolette’s face.
“It appears the two of you had the same thing in mind.” Charlotte turned her attention back to Darian, brow lifted high.
Nicolette stepped toward Salvatore, and took his hand. “Come, help me mount up.”
“You have never needed my assistance before,” he replied, surprised to hear the jealousy in his voice.
How lovely she was today, her color high, her cheeks flushed...just as they had been last night when he had made love to her. Still he could taste the sweetness of her lips, hear the sound of her sighs as he thrust within her, the heat of her ti
ght sheath squeezing him, milking him of every ounce of seed. How foolish they had been, especially not to take precautions, but he had not been able to withdraw. Even now she could be carrying his child.
Their child. For a moment he allowed himself the fantasy. Believing that he could bring a child up in the world—perhaps a girl with red curls and green eyes like her mother. He smiled inwardly at the thought, and when Nicolette glanced up at him, his heart gave a jolt.
Had last night been about tutoring? Had she wanted to seem accomplished for Darian, or had there been more to it? They both learned from an early age that the act of making love had little to do with the emotion of love. His own mother had spent the last fifteen years of her life on her back, servicing men from all walks of life. Her soft cries had filled his young ears, leaving him with a sense of loathing that had followed him into adulthood.
It had been a young whore at the brothel, a friend of his mother’s, who had taken his virginity. He had been only thirteen, young and furious with the hand life had dealt him.
While he played the piano one night the whore had slid on top of the scratched Bechstein, her small breasts hanging out of her top, her eyes hot with wanting.
He had seen the look on other woman’s eyes, but ignored it. His looks had always drawn attention—not the type of attention he cared for.
That night he had become a man, and the whore would go on to teach him every way to make love, how to please a woman, where to touch her, what to say.
However, after a time he grew weary of the whore and he turned his passion to music, yet from time to time he would wander into a woman’s room and take her up on her offer, just to sate his urges.
But now he knew that it could be different. Making love did involve the heart and held limitless possibilities.
This morning he had woke with Nicolette at his side, and a million notes had come in rapid succession. He had not wanted to leave her soft body, but he had the urge to write down the notes, to put his thoughts on paper, so he could share it with the world.
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