“Of course. Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asked, the other woman already pulling him away.
Nicolette watched him leave with a wave of disappointment and sadness. The easy playfulness they had always had, had now disappeared.
The room took on a stifling quality, to the point Nicolette needed to get away, out of the room.
She raced down the hallway, into the lobby and out the front entrance, forgetting her cloak.
The cool air rushed up to greet her, and she welcomed it. Her cheeks were hot, as were the tears that would not stop.
“My lady, may I call you a carriage?” a footman asked, and she shook her head, wiping away at the tears. She raced across the street, not caring she was alone or that it was night.
A hand clasped onto her shoulder and she let out a shriek.
“Nic, where are you going?”
Salvatore embraced her from behind, his body hard against her back. His strong arms enfolded her. She could feel his heart pounding frantically against her.
“Where are you going?” he asked again, his voice soft, his breath hot against her ear.
“I don’t know.”
He turned her in his arms, and she could see the concern in his golden eyes. This was the Salvatore she knew and loved. The man she had fallen in love with, without even realizing it. Flashing a tender smile, he cupped her jaw with his hands. “Forgive me. Forgive me. I am behaving like a jealous lover, and yet I have no right.”
Her heart leapt at the declaration.
He brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “God, how I have missed you.”
She wept with relief. “And I you.”
She touched the hand that still palmed her jaw and brought it to her lips. The smile that had been in place moments before had now disappeared.
Without a word, he lifted her in his arms and strode toward a carriage. The footman scrambled down and opened the door for them. Salvatore sat, and still held her on his lap. “To Drury Lane.”
“Drury Lane? You don’t mean...”
He smiled. “Yes, we’re going home, Nic.”
Chapter Eighteen
Many of the faces had changed at Madame la Monte’s. The brothel’s interior however had not. Red tacky velvet curtains hung over the windows, while overstuffed furniture was placed strategically in dark corners.
Thankfully Salvatore’s and Nicolette’s arrival had gone unnoticed, except by Madame la Monte herself, who gave a loud shriek when they had entered through the back door. She had raced over and embraced Nicolette, her perfume nearly choking her as much as the hug. The boisterous woman had changed very little, save for more lines around her mouth and eyes.
Salvatore led Nicolette to the large corner room he rented. One would never guess it to be in a brothel, for the room held an elegance that Nic had seen in some of the grandest hotels of Europe. Posh creams, golds, warm-colored walls.
Nicolette sat on the bed, watching as Salvatore removed his jacket and hung it over a chair. Her heart constricted. She could hardly believe she was with him. “Why did you return here?”
He looked about the room, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I wanted to be closer to you.”
Touched, she returned his smile and watched as he walked toward her, his gaze roving over her, telling her with that look alone that she had not been the only one who had suffered their parting. In the carriage ride he had held her tight, not kissing her, saying nothing as his thumb brushed over her wrist again and again. And she had closed her eyes, taking in the comfort of being back in his arms.
Stopping before her, he reached out for her hand. She took it, and he lifted her to her feet.
She went up on her toes and kissed him, tentatively at first. With a groan, he deepened the kiss, a hand closing over her breast, playing with her nipple through the material. Her stomach tightened as heat radiated from where he touched her, down to the apex of her thighs. She burned for him.
Reaching between them, she ripped his shirt from his pants. He smiled against her lips, before pulling away to rid himself of his clothing.
How beautiful he was in all his masculine glory.
She offered him her back, and he made quick work of the buttons, kissing her shoulder as he drew the gown from her. It fell in a puddle at her feet. “I can scarcely believe my eyes,” he said, already tugging at the strings of her corset.
“Charlotte insists that I wear one.”
“You have become a young lady in my absence.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Only when absolutely necessary.”
“That’s my girl.” Kissing her bare shoulder, he flung the corset aside, then did the same with her chemise. Enfolding her in his arms, she smiled, insanely happy.
“I thought never to return here.”
“I know. I never wanted to come back, yet now I suddenly wish we could stay here forever.”
She looked up at him. “You knew I wouldn’t look here. That’s why you came?”
“Forgive me?”
She did not bring up the money Simon had paid him. She could not bear to.
Going up on the tips of her toes, she kissed him. “The time for talking is through.”
With a gentle tug, she pulled him on top of her as they toppled onto the mattress. His long hair fell against her face and she inhaled the fresh scent, her fingers weaving through the silky strands.
He kissed her, once, twice, before his lips traveled over her chin, down her throat, over her quivering breasts. His tongue stroked a diamond-hard nipple, teasing it into a pointed peak before moving to the other.
Her hands explored his strong back, feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. She gasped as his lips kissed a path from her breasts to her stomach, his tongue laving her navel. Nicolette’s stomach tightened, her hands clenched his head.
He moved down, between her thighs. He brought his hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her to his mouth.
“Salvatore...”
He grinned wickedly before his tongue stroked her.
Nicolette’s breath left her in a rush. She had never in her life experienced such wicked pleasure. It seemed he knew where to touch her, how to touch her, and in a way that made her entire body sing.
Unconsciously, she opened her legs wider. How wicked it was to watch him pleasure her, taking her excitement to a higher place. His silky hair caressed her thighs, his velvety tongue making her writhe blissfully as he slid the tip into her molten core. He sucked lightly on her tiny pearl, the intense sensation making her fist the sheets beneath her.
With each stroke of his tongue her body tightened. She could feel the start of her climax building as she reached for the stars, ever higher, until she found sweet release.
Slowly, she drifted back down to Earth.
Salvatore bowed over her, looking down at her, a satisfied smile on his lips. He kissed her, and for a moment she was horrified that she dare taste herself. Yet there was nothing horrible about it. In fact, it made her feel closer to him, to be able to share something so intimate...so wonderful.
His hard cock pressed against her sensitive folds, seeking entrance. With a single thrust he filled her completely. He moved slowly, his strokes controlled, and then in the blink of an eye he rolled, to where she was now astride him in the dominant position.
He grinned wolfishly as his hands moved to her breasts, palming them, and he sat up a little, taking a nipple into his mouth. Nicolette moved her hips experimentally, enjoying the control she had, the multitude of sensations with him cradled inside her, and his lips on her breasts.
Long fingers braced about her hips and he lifted her, showing her the pace, teaching her what to do.
Once she overcame the initial surprise of being in control, she found she loved riding him, building a pace th
at made her breath quicken and her body pulse.
“You feel so good,” he said between gritted teeth.
“So do you,” she said, pushing him back against the pillows, entwining her fingers with his.
She felt him swell within her, thicker, longer, stretching her. Letting her head fall back on her shoulders she allowed herself to let go—to feel, to savor the moment and celebrate their reunion.
His hands moved to her hips, urging her on. His soft moans told her he was near climax, and she was following quickly behind.
She met his gaze and her hands tightened on his shoulders as she came, her sex squeezing him tight.
His hands cinched about her hips and he thrust upward twice, and came with a low-throated groan.
*****
Salvatore woke to an empty bed.
In a glance he saw Nicolette had left. His gaze skipped over the room, looking for a note, but he found nothing.
He dressed quickly, and raced downstairs. There was no one about this morning, all the girls sleeping the day away until night. The only sound came by way of Solomon, the old Negro who had worked at Madame La Monte’s for an eternity, it seemed. The old man hummed as he dusted the banister. Seeing him, Solomon nodded. “Good morning, sir!”
“Have you seen Nicolette?”
The old man’s brows furrowed. “I can’t say that I have.”
Salvatore patted the man on the back and headed toward the attic stairway. The narrow passage was barely three feet wide, and very steep. Salvatore’s fingers brushed the walls with open familiarity as he ascended. How many times had he and Nicolette walked this path? Would she be there now?
Salvatore pushed open the door and looked about the cramped room, disappointed that Nicolette wasn’t there. The room was dark, save for a bit of light shining through the small window. It had always seemed small before, but now it was suffocating. And to think the two of them had lived here for years, every day yearning for something better. Yearning for escape.
There was a cot in one corner, a piece of broken glass hanging on the wall, serving as a mirror, and a rickety old table where an old volume sat. His fingers skimmed over the gold lettering. Gulliver’s Travels. He smiled, remembering reading the story to Nicolette night after night. He had not been able to bring himself to come here before. He could not have handled the memories, the wanting to see her, and knowing she could no longer be a part of her life.
What would become of them now?
If Simon had his way, he would make certain he never saw Nicolette again. And what of Darian? Salvatore had already been cut from many guest lists. It was a matter of time before all doors closed to him and Nicolette. Perhaps they could return to their villa in Greece. Stay there forever.
Salvatore had had no intention of making love to Nicolette last night. Her presence at the ball had been a surprise, yet secretly he had hoped for her to be there. Though he had promised himself he would not return to London, the offer to play at the annual ball had been too generous.
With memories of their childhood dancing in his mind, Salvatore walked to the wall and lifted the small mirror. He smiled. The initials N.L. and S.T. were still there. He ran his fingers over the rugged letters, remembering the night they had done so.
He gave the room one more glance before turning around and heading back down the way he’d come. Where had Nicolette gone to, and why had she not said goodbye?
*****
As luck would have it Darian had arrived at Charlotte’s townhouse a mere ten minutes before Nicolette.
Wearing her gown from the evening before, Nicolette entered the parlor. Charlotte, who had been staring out the window, turned at her entrance, as did Darian who crossed the room in long strides.
“There you are!” He stopped in midstride. “You are wearing the same gown you had on last night.”
Accusation laced every single word.
Darian’s gaze raked her from head to toe. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I stayed over with a friend.”
The nerve in his jaw twitched. “And which friend would that be, or need I ask?”
Nicolette looked from him to Charlotte, then back again. “I daresay that is none of your business.”
“It is very much my business.” His dark eyes were not at all warm. “You are my fiancée, Nicolette, or have you forgotten that?”
“I told you last night that I had no intention of marrying you,” Nicolette said, stepping past him to take a seat beside Charlotte, “and I have not changed my mind.”
“You think you will receive a better offer?” Disbelief laced each word.
“Darian, I understand your anger toward me, and there is nothing I can say that will excuse what I had planned to do to you and Elizabeth at the engagement party, but nothing came of it. I don’t understand your hatred toward your brother. He did nothing to you.”
Darian snorted. “You call his intention to destroy me nothing!”
“He did not destroy you. In fact, why would you even choose to marry me, given the fact I was as guilty in the plan as Salvatore?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again.
“Exactly!”
“Your father has given me his blessing, and we have already announced it to the ton. The banns were posted yesterday and will be in every publication come Saturday morning.”
“I’m sorry you and Simon went to such lengths to undermine me, but it still does not change my mind. I will not, now or anytime in the future, marry you.”
“You have little choice in the matter, Nicolette. I have told your father that you could already possibly be carrying my child.”
“But that is a lie.”
His gaze shifted from hers to her breasts. “You have gained weight, Nicolette, and everyone at the house party knows what you had intended—or should I say—Salvatore had intended. You were innocent in his plot to ruin me.”
Nicolette could not believe the man had the audacity to tell her that she would marry him. “I don’t care what you say, the answer is, and will always be no.”
“You will be ruined.”
“Come, Darian, don’t embarrass yourself further,” Charlotte said, reaching for her teacup. “Your threats are quite tiresome and I thought more of you.”
“What do you know?” he quipped.
Charlotte lifted her brows. “Apparently more than you do. For the love of God, do you think every woman you meet will fall at your feet?”
“You always opened your legs for me, my dear,” he said with a sneer.
Charlotte smirked. “Yes, and you never turned me down either. Even last night you had me in your carriage and you finished within seconds, so do not act the martyr in front of Nicolette. She’s being honest with you. The least you can do is give her the same courtesy.”
Darian stammered, his cheeks turning red. “You all but threw yourself at me.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Mutual desire is always an asset in any friendship.”
“Spoken like a true whore.”
Nicolette very nearly tossed her tea in his face.
“You are such a hypocrite, Darian. No doubt you’ve fucked every actress from here to Italy...and you call me a whore?” Charlotte shook her head. “Aside from Charles and two other men, you are the only other person I’ve ever been intimate with.” She lifted her chin. “I can count my lovers on one hand. Can you say the same?”
Darian frowned. “You lie.”
“I will swear upon my mother’s grave,” Charlotte said with conviction, and Nicolette did not doubt her friend for one moment.
Nicolette glanced from one to the other. They were both furious, but at least their attention and aggression had been turned on each other.
Salvatore walked in, and all thr
ee of them stopped and turned to the door.
Nicolette’s heart skittered. Dressed in a navy suit, his long hair tied back in a queue, he was so handsome and she was so proud he was hers.
“I’m sorry to just walk into your home, Charlotte. I heard arguing, so I nearly ran your footman down in my haste.”
“You are always welcome,” Charlotte said, nodding toward the older footman who just now entered, looking none too pleased with Salvatore. “Please bring us another cup of tea, Alfred.”
“Well, if isn’t the bastard,” Darian said, shaking his head. “You have the audacity to show your face here.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Charlotte replied. “Salvatore is always welcome in my home. That is more than I can say about you, Lord Kedgwick.”
“Lord Kedgwick, is it?” Darian’s cheeks turned crimson.
“I came to visit Nicolette,” Salvatore said. He walked straight to her, took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Good morning, my dear.”
Nicolette could feel a blush race up her cheeks. The wicked things they had done last night coming back to her in detail. How delicious making love to him had been. As his golden eyes stared into hers, she was reminded of how heavy-lidded they had been when he had looked up at her as she rode him. “Good morning.”
“Simon does not want you around his daughter,” Darian said, his eyes narrowed.
Salvatore glanced at Darian. “Simon does not have a say in how I lead my life.”
Darian smirked. “Is that so?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“He paid you to disappear.”
Nicolette swallowed hard. Darian had managed to bring up the one thing she had been too afraid to ask last night.
Salvatore kissed her hand before walking toward his brother. They were both of the same height, and Salvatore stopped mere inches from him. “Do you mean this note?” he asked, pulling it from his wallet.
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