by Brenda Joyce
“I hate them,” Regina said. “We will go home.”
Nicole could not answer.
“One pound,” the auctioneer boomed. “Going…going…”
And then a deep, strong voice, one she knew so well, rang out, effectively hushing everything and everyone. “Five hundred pounds,” the Duke of Clayborough said.
There was a stunned silence. Then the auctioneer beamed, slamming down his gavel. “Five hundred pounds!” he roared. “Do I hear five fifty? I have five hundred pounds…going…going…do I hear five fifty? And gone! Sold to the Duke of Clayborough for five hundred pounds!”
Elizabeth broke the astounded silence surrounding them. “Hadrian,” she cried, “look at what you have done!”
The Duke winced. His gaze drifted past the top of Elizabeth’s head and met Nicole’s. She was wide-eyed, absolutely incredulous. During the bidding for her basket, his anger had flared at the mockery inflicted upon her by his peers. Grimly he had watched her trying to hide the anguish he could read behind her frozen, proud expression. He had wanted to throttle Robert’s friend for his utterly ridiculous bid of one pound. And when he had realized that there would be no counter-offer, that Nicole’s lunch would actually sell for such an embarrassing amount, he had come to the rescue with his staggering bid of five hundred pounds.
Nothing could have prevented him from rescuing her from the humiliation she was suffering, but he chose to think that he would have rescued anyone in a similar predicament. He would not inspect his motivations further than that. But would Elizabeth understand?
The Duke tore his gaze from Nicole, wondering just how long they had been staring at each other. “Elizabeth,” he began awkwardly.
She clapped her hands. “How heroic you are!”
His eyes widened.
She clung to his arm, beaming. “How clever you are! Now everyone will know you have taken her under your protection, and no one will ever dare to make such fun of her again!”
“Do you not have a mean bone in your body?” he asked softly.
Confusion clouded her eyes.
He could at least reveal some of the truth. “It angered me to see her mocked so. I have always disliked any kind of abuse.” He recalled, in a flashing instant, how his father had mocked his mother just as cruelly. And how Francis had mocked his own son, belittling the small boy at every turn, ridiculing every endeavor that child should have been proud of. That child…himself.
“I know, and that is why I lo…why I am so fond of you,” she said, squeezing his arm. “People are waiting, Hadrian, you must go and get her basket.” The auctioneer had begun the bidding on one of the last two lunches.
Even as he said the words, he felt a foolish disappointment. “I only bought her basket to save her from embarrassment, Elizabeth, not to share a picnic with her.”
“Hadrian, you must! If you do not share her lunch, people will think I disapprove and am jealous. It will be a scandal, and you will have undone all the good you have just done. You must.”
He was appalled. His own fiancée was sending him into the arms of another woman, one he coveted still despite his better intentions. Of course, Elizabeth could have no idea of how Nicole haunted his thoughts. “We will all dine together,” he said firmly, even though he found this solution even more appalling than sharing lunch with Nicole alone.
“No, no,” Elizabeth said just as firmly. “I am too tired. I have been here since early this morning preparing this event with your mother. If you intend for me to dine with you tonight, Hadrian, then I had better retire for the afternoon.”
“I will take you home, then.”
“And leave Nicole here, all by herself, to be a laughingstock? Don’t be silly! I’ll send your coach back.” She gave him another warm smile, then turned to wave at the flustered Nicole.
The Duke made one last effort. “Elizabeth, if you leave now people will think you sorely put out.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily, clearly in the best of spirits—as anyone could see. “To the contrary, they will know how much I trust you, and I shall shortly make it clear to all my friends how very pleased I am with how you have extended your protection to Lady Shelton.”
Her words, of course, did nothing short of perturb him immensely. How much I trust you. How wrong she was.
There had been many women in his life. A gentleman was not expected to be faithful to a wife, much less a fiancée, and almost every gentleman kept a mistress. These other women were not of quality, so it did not matter. It was acceptable, even expected. And it was well known that gentlewomen were pleased that their husbands found comfort elsewhere, for ladies were too genteel to have to bear a man’s appetites other than for the purpose of conceiving children. Yet dallying with Nicole Shelton was not acceptable. It violated not just Elizabeth’s trust in him, but the code of honorable conduct all gentlemen lived by. Lady Nicole Shelton was another matter entirely, for she was of the aristocracy.
Hadrian walked Elizabeth through the throng, trying not to think at all. It wasn’t easy. His heart was thudding heavily and his mind was not on his fiancée, not the way it should be, that is. He was too conscious of the tall, dark woman standing on the far side of the clearing. “I will see you tonight, Hadrian,” Elizabeth said when they reached his coach.
The Duke nodded and helped her within, giving orders to his coachman. He stepped back as the coach moved off, and managed to smile as Elizabeth gave him a last wave of farewell.
Nicole watched them leaving, still unable to assimilate what had happened. Why had he bought her basket, and for such an incredible sum? How could he do something like that in front of Elizabeth, and did it mean something, portend something? She tried to warn herself not to be foolish, but her emotions were terribly raw, and the warning seemed trivial compared to how monumentally he had saved the day.
Now he was leaving. Nicole could not take her eyes from them, still standing beneath the thick, tall oak tree where she had stood since the auction began. Of course he was leaving, what did she expect? For him to come and claim her as all the other eager young men had claimed their ladies? Did she still harbor silly romantic fantasies about him? Did she still dare to be so foolish?
Regina gripped her arm, reminding Nicole that she still stood beside her. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered excitedly. “The Duke of Clayborough bought your lunch, oh, Nicole! This is a terrific sign! He has signaled everyone that you are not to be trifled with!”
Trembling, Nicole managed a weak smile. Is that what it meant? Or…could it mean something more? Hope leapt in her breast, although she tried to quell it. Regina did not know how many times she had been in his arms, and how nearly she had come to giving herself to him, fiancée or no. Maybe, just maybe…. “Lord Hortense is waiting for you. Go on, I’ll go home and send the coach back for you.” Nicole dared not complete her thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Regina asked, then she gripped Nicole’s arm excitedly. “Nicole! Look!”
Nicole followed her sister’s gaze and was startled. The Duke towered over everyone as he threaded his way back through the crowd, not approaching her, but the platform. Her eyes darted ahead of him. The auctioneer had long since stepped down and the only thing on the platform other than the cheerful white and green bunting and the array of hothouse roses was her vividly red basket. The Duke did not pause, heading unerringly for it. He picked it up. Then he turned, his gaze finding hers, and he began striding toward her.
Both girls were silent, each stunned for her own reasons. Regina broke the silence first. “I think…I think he intends to have lunch with you.”
“I don’t think so,” Nicole said unsteadily, but her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.
The Duke approached. “Ladies,” he said formally.
Regina came to her senses first, dropping into a beautifully executed curtsy. “Your Grace. I…” She looked from one to the other, fascinated by the intensity of their stares. “Lord Hortense is waiting for me,”
she managed breathlessly, then she turned and fled.
A silence fell between them, thick with a tension generated by the past and compounded by the present. Nicole broke it, wetting her lips nervously. “Everyone is staring. What are you doing?”
“Let them stare.” He held out his arm. His expression was extremely grim. He had yet to smile or show any expression at all. “Shall we?”
Nicole blinked at his arm. “I—I don’t understand.”
His jaw tightened. “We are dining together, Lady Shelton, as I have bought your basket.”
She lifted her tremulous gaze to his. “But…Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth approves heartily, and had she not been so fatigued, she would join us as well.”
A terrible disappointment which Nicole had no right to experience swarmed over her. “I see.” She turned, but did not take his arm, having no intention of doing so. Her lips pursed tightly together as the secret bubble within her burst. Her fantasy balloon, filled with dreams, popped. What had she secretly hoped? That he had broken off with Elizabeth, here and now, so publicly? Broken it off to be with her? She was nothing more than a case of charity, for both of them, although the Duke’s motives could certainly be more suspect.
Realizing Nicole would not take it, he dropped his arm, his eyes darkening. Together they strode across the clearing until they came to a spot shaded by three flaming red maple trees. Nicole glanced around as the Duke set the basket down. They were in full sight of everyone, but that was to be expected, as was the curiosity they aroused.
“Did you bring a blanket?”
“What?”
Roughly he repeated his question.
Nicole shook her head. The Duke shed his hunter green hacking coat, spreading it out for her. Nicole could not thank him, and instead of settling down upon it, she stared at it.
“I assure you, I do not have lice.”
She whipped her gaze to his. “This is ridiculous. You really expect us to sit here and dine together civilly?”
“I don’t just expect it,” he said, eyes glaring, “I demand it.”
Anger blazed in her eyes and she squared off against him. “I do not need your charity!”
“To the contrary,” he said smoothly, “you certainly do.”
“I did not ask you to buy my basket!”
“No, you did not.”
“So why did you?” she cried, shaking.
He stared, the vein in his neck throbbing visibly. “Because it appeared that you had no other rescuers,” he finally said.
“How gallant you are!” Nicole exclaimed, stung to tears. “I did not need rescuing, and certainly not by you.”
“Perhaps you should let go of your pride for one moment, Nicole. How many times has it caused you to act rashly? How often has it created more problems than it has solved?”
“That is not your concern!”
“I suggest you sit down,” he said, his own face flushed with anger. “Before we make a spectacle of ourselves and undo all that has been done.”
“I do not need your protection,” she said bitterly. “Go protect sweet Elizabeth.”
“She does not need my protection, and fool that I am, I appear to have extended it to you, as ungrateful as you are. Now sit.” Abruptly he pushed her down to her knees, and Nicole had no choice but to sit rather quickly upon his coat.
He dropped down on the grass beside her, and when Nicole was about to bounce up, he gripped her hand, keeping her anchored where she was. “We are still the focus of much attention and a fight will fuel the gossips. Haven’t you had enough of gossip, Nicole?”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Yes.”
He released her hand.
When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her face intently. Nicole lifted her chin, blinking back the hot tears behind her lids. She could fight it all she wanted, deny it all she wanted, but she had needed his charity, she had needed him to rescue her, and now, if she were brutally honest with herself, she wanted even more.
There was no mistaking his strength. It emanated from him in a charisma no one could deny. If he were hers, she would go into his arms and weep for the past, which she could not change, and cry for a future she wished so desperately to have. He would be a haven, an inviolable refuge she so desperately needed, an invincible shield between herself and the rest of the world. But he was not hers, he belonged to Elizabeth; and this situation was nothing short of impossible.
He was still watching her, too closely, as if he could read her most private thoughts and feelings. Nicole found herself drawn in by his power, swept away by it. Once again, she was powerless to look away from him. She was afraid he knew her innermost thoughts. Afraid she was revealing too much. She did not want him to know, or even suspect, what she was afraid to acknowledge herself.
His anger had died. The telltale flush was gone. His eyes were again the rich gold of sherry, a tiger’s eyes, dangerously mesmerizing. Nicole became still, lulled into utter motionlessness, anticipation overwhelming her.
He suddenly lifted his hand. There was no question that he was going to touch her. He reached for her face. In that moment, Nicole yearned for him desperately. And just as suddenly he dropped his hand and his gaze, reaching abruptly for her box lunch.
“Perhaps we should eat,” he said.
A vast disappointment consumed her. She could not respond. She could only watch him open the basket and begin to remove the items within.
It had only taken that one instant for all of Nicole’s turbulent, bruised emotions to congeal into one fiery ball of explosive desire. Although she sat motionless, determined to hide her response to him, she was trembling, her body tight and taut, almost painfully so. He had been about to touch her, she was certain of it. She could not seem to think of anything else.
His glance lifted and they stared at each other. The glitter of his gaze was as bright as hers, unconcealable.
Oh, dear God, Nicole thought, as violent desire crashed over her. In that moment, she did not care about anything or anyone other than herself and the Duke, for every leaf trembling above them, every sweet blade of grass around them, the festive crowd scattered through the park, the entire world, had just faded into oblivion. There was nothing and no one in existence other than herself and the powerful, virile man sitting opposite her.
Only her eyes moved, her body incapable of motion. They roamed over every exquisite feature of his face, lingering on his sensually sculpted lips, recalling the heat and power of them, the devouring hunger. They roved lower, over his broad shoulders and massive chest, clad in nothing but a simple white linen shirt, the top two buttons open and revealing just a glimpse of thick, dark chest hair. His long, powerful legs were encased in tan breeches, his high boots black and gleaming. Startled, her gaze flew back to his loins, where a thick rigid arousal strained the tight fabric of his pants. For a long moment she could not take her eyes away, could not move, could not breathe. Her body strained and quivered against the confines of her skin. Suddenly some kind of death seemed imminent, one that would take her straight to heaven.
He cursed. “Damn it. This is intolerable. This cannot continue.”
Nicole wet her lips, shamelessly thinking about his kisses, about how it felt to be in his arms, and about another act no lady would even contemplate.
“I suggest,” he said sharply, “that you think about something—anything—else.”
Her most private desires revealed. She lifted her gaze to his and was consumed—gladly consumed—by the heat she found there. “I can’t,” she whispered.
He let out his breath harshly. “If you do not,” he said roughly, “then we have a very long hour ahead of us.”
She looked at him, his words drawing her attention away from her indecent thoughts.
“I think an hour will suffice, if we can endure it.”
“An hour will suffice,” she said slowly. “It is appropriate for us to share a picnic for an hour, and then, of course, you must return
to Elizabeth.”
“Yes.”
The words were more effective than buckets of ice water thrown over her head, and she smiled almost sadly. How could she sit here and covet another woman’s man, one who was practically her husband? It was terribly immoral, as immoral as her scandalous physical desire, and Nicole was ashamed. For a few brief moments, she had forgotten all about Elizabeth, and she would have done anything to be alone with the Duke, alone in an intimate way. But how could she have forgotten? She must not forget! This man was taken, he did not belong to her, but to another. She could never have him, and to sit here openly coveting him was the height of dastardly behavior.
“Let’s not linger,” she said abruptly, not daring to look him in the eyes. “Let’s just go. You can tell all your wonderful friends that I was most charming, but I had a terrible headache. And you must thank Elizabeth, of course, for her gracious part in this rescue.”
He was silent; she felt his stare. She refused to look at him. She felt like she was dying inside, bit by bit, a completely different kind of death than the rapturous one she had sensed was so near just minutes before.
“You are right,” he said hoarsely, closing the basket and standing. He held out his hand, but Nicole knew better than to take it, afraid to touch him, although she wanted nothing more. Careful not to meet his gaze, careful not to let their hands brush, she handed him his jacket, waiting as he slipped it on.
Side by side, they walked across the park toward the long line of carriages. As they passed one picnicking group after another, the Duke nodded and said a brief hello, but Nicole did not look at anybody, too absorbed in her own ragged feelings. The sanctuary of the Dragmore coach could not come soon enough, yet a stubborn part of her wished to forestall their impending separation, for this time she knew it would be forever. On Monday she would return to Dragmore.