by Brenda Joyce
As the guest of honor, the Duke was seated on the Earl’s right. They were dining in the smaller of the house’s two dining rooms, the one reserved for intimate or family gatherings. The Countess sat at the other end of the table, which seated twelve, with Chad on her right. Nicole sat across from the Duke on her father’s other side. The Duke seated Jane, and returned to his own place in time to watch Nicole settling in her chair, dipping forward to reveal a generous portion of her breasts.
Purposefully? He was experienced enough to be sure of it. Their wordplay earlier, and her proximity, had already done dangerous things to his loins, kindling a fire he did not wish to entertain, not now or ever. Lips tight, he sat, resolving to keep his gaze off of her person.
Her last remark still stung. Had she truly meant what he had thought she had? Had she dared to refer to how easily he became aroused around her? He found his gaze upon her again, and she gave him a knowing smile, one that was infinitely seductive and infinitely infuriating.
She was teasing him, and if they weren’t here, at Dragmore, he would drag her outside and show her what happened when she dared to play such a dangerous game with a man of his caliber. No woman had ever before dared to rouse his anger as she had, both this evening and the last time they had met. Was she a fool, or infinitely brave and equally reckless? Time would tell, he thought, startled to realize he anticipated some kind of continuation of their relationship. And that was not just impossible, it was out of the question.
She was staring at him and their glances locked. Although they were here at Dragmore dining with her family, his turn would come soon. He held her regard so long that it ceased to be polite, forcing her to turn away first.
“What do you intend to do with Chapman Hall?” the Earl asked as they were served their first course, a cold poached salmon in a delicate lemon sauce.
“I have not decided, but perhaps I will put it up for sale.”
“So much work just to sell it?” Nicole asked, her tone provocative.
His hard brown gaze met and held hers, again. “Some endeavors demand labor, and the more labor, the greater the final reward.” He could be referring to just about anything, but in this case, he was referring to her.
She smiled. “And sometimes there can be tremendous labor and no reward, ever.” She met his stare.
How he would like to play this game to the end, he thought. How he would like to get her where she would be immersed in his power, helpless to deny him. “Such instances are very, very rare.” Abruptly, he turned to her mother, not wanting to continue their banter, afraid they had already revealed too much. “The salmon is delicious, Lady Jane.”
Jane could not restrain herself from darting her gaze between them. “I am glad,” she managed weakly, finally catching her husband’s eye.
Understanding her, the Earl began a more harmless topic: the state of the market. Although economies were not generally discussed in mixed company, as the head of the household the Earl could broach what subject he chose. However, both women seemed interested enough in the conversation to listen closely. The Duke responded to his host automatically, but his attention was elsewhere. For Nicole continued to clash with him, this time by casting long looks at him from under her lashes, certain that there would be no consequences.
After the meal, they all adjourned together to the salon to enjoy after-dinner drinks. The Earl asked him if he minded the company of the ladies. Of course, by now the Duke was thoroughly irritated, having had to endure Nicole’s seduction through the entire supper, and he would have loved to have had a cigar in quiet peace with the Earl and Chad alone. As a gentleman, however, he could not refuse.
But twenty minutes later, Nicole excused herself, with one last glance at the Duke. He watched her leave. Had she been signaling him? The look she had given him had been frosty, smug and somehow coy all at once. Had his turn finally come to even the score?
After five minutes he excused himself momentarily from the gathering. His host would assume him to be answering a natural need. As he walked down the corridor, leaving the salon behind, his senses stirred. He knew—he just knew—that she was somewhere nearby. And as he passed the library a glance within told him that he was right. He halted.
She lay on the divan, on her side, reading. The pose, intentional or not, was that of a classic Venus. Her hips were full and curved and lush, her voluptuous breasts spilling from her gown. She widened her eyes at the sight of him. He could not be certain whether it was an act or not.
He smiled, his first real smile that evening, and it was infinitely dangerous. He stepped into the library and closed the door.
Nicole gasped, dropping the book. “Whatever do you think you’re doing! You can’t come in here!”
“I can’t?” He stalked toward her.
She sat up, although her feet did not drop to the floor. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, enjoying the view. “You played,” he said silkily, “and now you may pay.”
With that, she leapt to her feet. At that moment, he pounced on her, making her cry out as he pulled her up against him. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Nicole?”
“Did you enjoy yourself?” she flung back defiantly.
“No,” he said, “but I intend to now.”
Certain of what was coming, she tried to wrench herself free of his grip. He refused to let her go, even though a part of himself was shocked with the disrespect he was showing for his host and with his blatant disregard for any consequences that might ensue. He ignored that part of himself and hauled her up against him and kissed her.
She made incoherent noises of furious protest, which he ignored. He kept a steel hold on her wrists, molding her mouth with his, his patience endless. She took a breath and he seized the moment, thrusting his tongue deep within her. She gasped as he proceeded to thrust into her mouth insistently, ruthlessly, and then she became still in his arms.
His relentless attack did not cease. He transferred her wrists to one hand and with the other caught her buttocks, pulling her against him. She became more pliant in his embrace, moaning softly. His own stance changed. No longer the enemy predator, he eased his grip and his hold became a sweet, intoxicating embrace. Their kiss became a mutual mating. It went on and on and on.
A noise intruded on his senses. Awareness of who he was, who she was, where they were and what they were doing was instantaneous. He thrust her from him.
She stumbled, flushed and panting. The regard she turned on him was unfocused, that of a woman in the throes of passion.
“My reward,” he said huskily. Knowing he could not remain with her another moment, knowing that to be caught here would be the ruin of them both, he abruptly turned away and strode out the door, leaving her standing there, stunned.
He was halfway down the corridor when he heard her curse him, and then he heard the sound of glass shattering. He wondered what she had broken, but he could not smile. Victory was not always sweet.
Jane emerged from her own bedroom, which adjoined the Earl’s, into his. She never, ever slept in her own suite, but she kept all of her belongings there, and occasionally she did sit in front of the fire with a novel. Now she paused in the doorway, clad in a blue silk dressing gown, her expression worried.
The Earl was stripped to his waist, still wearing his trousers, his feet stockinged. In his early fifties, he had the lean, hard body of a man who had spent, and did spend, much of his time in physical labor. He had learned to enjoy hard physical work as a boy growing up in Texas, and it was not a habit he had ever cared to break. To this day, if there were a stone wall to be built or a barn to be raised, he gladly pitched in, as his time allowed. Now, he met his wife’s blue gaze, his own features grim.
She bit her lip, coming forward. “Whatever is going on between them, Nicholas?”
“So you saw, too?”
“How could I not see!? For all that he tried to hide it, the Duke was nearly seething, and Nicole, I would swear that she was teasing him, taunti
ng him.”
The Earl sat on a divan to remove his stockings. “I have never seen Nicole like this before.”
Suddenly Jane’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Nicholas, she dressed for him. She is interested in him.”
The Earl straightened, his unusually pale gray eyes sparkling. “You sound happy. Have you lost your mind?”
Jane stiffened, for her husband never talked to her in such a manner. “I assure you, all my faculties are intact.”
“I am sorry,” he groaned, instantly on his feet and pulling her small, slender body into his embrace. “I am upset, and I was taking it out on you.”
She clung to him, loving the feel of his hard, powerful body, loving him even more than she had when they had first met when she was sixteen. A lifetime ago—a wonderful lifetime ago. “Nicholas, we should be worried, but…” She took a breath. “Can you imagine? Our daughter a duchess?”
Nicholas released her, incredulous. “Jane, you are not thinking straight at all! The Duke of Clayborough is betrothed.”
“I know that. But betrothals can be broken.”
Nicholas stared at her very grimly. “Not in this case,” he said flatly. “I know Clayborough well enough. He lives by his family’s motto, “Honor First”. Even should he fall madly in love with our daughter, he will never, ever break his engagement. Instead, he will break Nicole’s heart.”
“Oh, dear,” Jane said.
Nicholas turned away, running a hand through his thick black hair, streaked with gray. “So whatever is between them, it is now over. The sooner Clayborough returns to London, the better for us all.”
“But you said he is honorable, and I am sure you are right. One merely has to look at him to know he is a fine, upright man. He would never do something untoward to compromise Nicole. We are worrying too much.”
Nicholas turned, a wry expression on his face. “Jane, he is a man. That fact speaks for itself. Or have you forgotten that sometimes men of honor behave most dishonorably when the women they love are involved?”
They were both thrown back to another time, in this very same place, when she was sixteen and his ward. “Now I am worried, Nicholas,” Jane said, and she went into his arms.
Nicole pretended to oversleep, but the moment she heard hoofbeats outside her window she leapt from the bed to watch her father and Chad riding away from the stables. She bit her lip nervously, then ran to her bureau, pulling out a loose white shirt and breeches. Last night she had been furious but this morning she was strangely excited, almost elated.
Not that she wasn’t still angry, of course. It was the height of arrogance for the Duke to come there for supper after what had passed between them, after his callous assumptions about her, his jaded interest in her, and his flat rejection of her. Much, much worse were the liberties he had dared to take in the library, with her parents just a few doors away. And if she had the courage to face the entire truth, there was the matter of her own response to his advances to consider—she had capitulated to him with nary a word! Just remembering brought anger, shame and humiliation. Had he intended to humiliate her by seducing her? Nicole would not be surprised, now that she knew of his scandalous reputation as a womanizer. Obviously the man had no morals and no sense of honor at all. Nicole intended to tell him exactly what she thought of his despicable behavior.
She dressed and flew down the stairs, knowing she would see no one other than the staff at this early hour, her mother liked to sleep in until almost eight—which was still unfashionably early for a lady to rise. Nicole’s stomach was in knots of anticipation, so she did not pause even for a cup of tea. Instead she raced to the barn and with one of the grooms, saddled up her big, blood bay stallion.
She set off at a gallop. The early morning air was crisp and cold, promising fall’s sudden demise. She galloped down the drive, then veered off across the lawns, jumping a stone wall effortlessly. In the next meadow she scattered the sheep and lambs, laughing in exhilaration, then took another wall in a soaring display of superb horsemanship. They flew down a path through the woods, stirring up the gold and brown leaves underfoot. A mile later Nicole pulled the bay up at the edge of his lawns, in view of Chapman Hall.
Her heart was pounding wildly in her breast amd her cheeks were flushed from the madcap ride. The stallion snorted impatiently, still wanting to run. “Later,” Nicole said, stroking his warm neck. Eyes glittering, she urged the animal forward.
It was early, but the sound of carpenters came from the stables, their hammers ringing loudly. Nicole headed for the house, slipping off of the bay. She tied him to a post and trotted up the steps, banging the heavy brass door knocker.
There was no answer.
Nicole knocked several times, growing perturbed. The Duke might not be in, but surely his staff was there. Yet instead, the house seemed to be vacant, deserted.
Dismay rose in her breast. Nicole retrieved her mount’s reins and strode determinedly to the barn. Perhaps he was there, inside the stables, overseeing his men. If not, surely they would know where he was. He had to be here, didn’t he?
Leaving the stallion outside, she stepped within, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The two men stopped their sawing and banging, turning to look at her. “I am looking for the Duke,” she said, recognizing the laborers as men from the village of Lessing. Still, their blatant regard made her uncomfortable. She never came into contact with workers unless she was riding with her father and Chad. She was distinctly aware of her male attire and being unchaperoned and unprotected.
“He’s not here,” said the older man, squinting at her.
The young man straightened, leering. “He ain’t here, but we are.”
Nicole gave him a hard look that warned him not even to think nasty thoughts. “Where is he? And why is no one answering the door at the Hall?”
The young one, whose name she thought was Smith, sauntered forward. “Ain’t no one there. That’s why, miss.”
“No one there?” she echoed.
“The Duke an’ his staff has up an’ gone,” the older man volunteered.
“Now why are you so interested in His Grace?” Smith grinned knowingly.
Nicole didn’t hear. “Gone? Gone where?”
“Back to London,” the old man said.
“Back to London,” Nicole repeated, barely able to absorb this information. “But when will he return?”
“He didn’t say.”
“But while you’re waitin’ for him to return, there’s always me,” Smith said, moving closer.
“Go to hell!” Nicole snapped, startling both men. She whirled and ran from the barn, still trying to comprehend that the Duke was gone. She mounted the bay, nudging him into a fast trot.
Gone! He was gone!
And there was no question about it, her heart had sunk right down to her very toes. She was absolutely deflated.
He had come into her life so abruptly, and just as abruptly, he was gone. One day there was only her family, her horses, her books and Dragmore, the next there was the golden, virile Duke. But now he was gone.
She should be relieved. She should be happy. She was neither of those things; she was deeply disappointed.
“What is wrong with you?” she said aloud. “Have you truly gone mad? He harbors only the worst intentions towards you, he is about to marry another, and you are mourning his absence!”
Logic did not vanquish her strange trembling, nor did it lift her spirits.
She slowed the bay to a walk when they reached the trail running through the woods. A few minutes later they came upon the racing brook, and Nicole was assaulted with the memory of how they had ridden here, and how he had kissed her, touched her. She stopped her mount, slipping off, and knelt by the stream, touching the icy water.
Life was not always fair. But she had learned that long ago, so why was she feeling so sorely now? Why had he returned to London so abruptly? Last night he had said he would be leaving in a few days. Last night—he had left because of la
st night!
Nicole straightened, certain that she was responsible, having pushed him too far. But he had started it by merely coming to Dragmore when he could have made his excuses. And she was not one to ever back down from a confrontation, and in this instance, she had eagerly risen to the occasion, relishing the battle.
What did it matter? He was not for her, and he never would be. The most she could hope for was more of his kisses, or worse, to sleep in his bed. At the thought Nicole blushed. Sex was a topic ladies never discussed but she understood the basics of the act, having been raised on the estate and having seen a stallion put to a mare once. It had been shocking but exciting. She had never seen a man naked, but she had felt the Duke’s maleness when he had pressed himself against her, and she could imagine what he looked like. Imagine what it felt like inside her. Growing very warm, she blindly stroked her horse’s neck, knowing she should be ashamed at the direction her thoughts were taking. But she wasn’t ashamed, not at all, and that was the entire problem.
Of course, she was never going to sleep with him in such a manner, it was the height of fantasy to imagine what she was imagining. Nor would she ever have his kisses again, his dangerous, smoldering kisses. A lump rose up in her throat, a sense of choking panic.
She pulled herself together. “It is for the best,” she told her stallion, who was nibbling on a patch of grass. She mounted abruptly, urged him into a canter, and did not stop again until she had reached the stable at Dragmore. There she handed her mount to a groom and hurried back to the house, keeping her mind blessedly and purposefully blank.
As she passed the dining room her mother called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. Nicole entered, surprised to see her mother up and at the table, for she usually had tea and muffins in her room while dressing.
“Good morning, Mother.” Nicole came in, hesitating, instinct making her uneasy.
“Aldric says you’ve yet to eat,” Jane smiled. She looked a bit tired, as if she had not slept well. “Sit down and join me, darling.” Jane poured her a cup of tea, handing it to her as Nicole sat.