by Tonya Brooks
After an interminable period spent watching Scarlett being flirted with and fawned over by countless men, Devlin commented, “That doesn't look promising.”
Nicholas had already noticed the storm clouds brewing in her eyes. Someone had made Scarlett mad. Lord only knew what she'd do or say now. “Looks like she's about to take that chap's head off,” he surmised.
“Think we should rescue him?” Was asked in resignation.
“I'll do it,” Nicholas decided and marched across the floor to clap the young man firmly on the shoulder. “My dance, I believe.”
The besotted young man did not want to hand the lovely lady over, but he swallowed hard when he met Nicholas's piercing gaze. Only a fool would deny the Duke of Ryder what he wanted. “So it is, Your Grace,” he grudgingly conceded.
“Smile, kitten,” her new partner suggested. “People will think I'm the one who made you mad.”
~~~~~
“You know I can never be mad with you, Nicky,” she denied and gave him a genuine smile. Being in Nicholas's arms again brought back all those wonderful feelings she'd experienced during their kiss earlier in the day. Oh, how she ached for the chance to do it again.
~~~~~
That relieved his mind, even if it didn't absolve his responsibility in the kiss they had shared. Scarlett had been the one to instigate the kiss, but damn his soul, he'd been a more than willing participant. By rights she should be furious with him instead of that young buck she'd been dancing with. “What did he do?”
“Other than proclaim his undying love for me?” She asked in contempt.
“Yet another mere mortal blinded by your beauty,” he suggested in that teasing tone, the hand at her waist gently caressing of its own accord. “You are simply ravishing tonight, kitten. A vision of loveliness.”
~~~~~
“Why, thank you, Your Grace,” she answered pertly, thrilled that he thought so, as he swirled her expertly around. “You look quite dashing... if bored out of your skull.”
Both he and Devlin had been leaning indolently against a column all evening, their expressions managing to convey their boredom to one and all. While she, on the other hand, was supposed to smile and act as if she were enjoying herself. It just wasn't fair.
“You know me so well, Lady Scarlett,” he grinned.
“I seem to be learning more about you every day,” she teased with a mischievous smile. Nicholas was acting as if nothing unusual had happened between them as if they had not shared an earth shattering kiss this afternoon. In an effort to get him to say something about their delightful interlude, she added, “Tell me, Nicky. Was it worth it?”
~~~~~
“Worth what?” He responded absently as he guided her expertly around a young man more interested in staring at Scarlett than where he was going.
“My thoughts. Were they worth a guinea?”
They had been worth a bloody fortune and the kiss that followed had been priceless. Heat filled his body as the memory flooded his mind. Kissing Scarlett had been heaven and hell. He'd gone further than he'd meant to, farther than he should have, but his need for her had been too strong to resist. Even now, holding her in his arms again, having her so close, and yet so far, was sheer torture. Apparently trying to sate his hunger in his mistress's bed had been a complete waste of time.
The obsidian eyes glittered hotly and his voice took on that silky timbre as he replied, “At least a guinea.”
“It was a very interesting subject. Unfortunately, it's left me in a bit of a quandary,” she smiled up at him invitingly.
“How so?” He queried curiously, even though he knew better. Scarlett in a playful mood was one thing, but when she was being deliberately provocative was another matter altogether. One he would do well to avoid, for the sake of his sanity.
“You've ruined my ability to concentrate on the novel,” she admitted with a sultry smile. “Every time I get to a place where they kiss, all I can think about is your magnificent... demonstration.”
“Scarlett...” Nicholas began huskily, and had no idea what he would have said in response, if she had not interrupted him.
“Insisting that you share your expertise may not have been such a good idea, Nicky,” she added. "I've discovered that I like kissing. I like it a lot. Now I can't wait to experience it again.”
The heat turned scalding hot.
Nicholas knew it could not happen again. He simply did not have the strength to protect her from himself any longer. Luckily the dance ended before he could reply to the bold statement. Forcing himself to release his hold on her, Nicholas led her back to her grandmother's side where the gaggle of eager young men waited.
“Duchy,” he greeted the formidable dowager and kissed her cheek in a familiar manner that only a member of the family would dare to do. “You look stunning this evening.”
~~~~~
The normally reserved duchess didn't even try to fight her smile. Nicholas was always flirting with her like that. Made her feel young and pretty again, and he knew it, too. The scamp. It was no wonder all the female hearts were aflutter. Ryder could charm the stars from the heavens. If only he'd direct that lethal charm at her granddaughter.
She was certain that he would have done something by now and was vexed that he hadn't. The fact that he had come to Almack's gave her hope, however. A man did not willingly subject himself to the tedium of this place without a reason. She fervently hoped keeping his eyes on her granddaughter was that reason.
She smacked his chest lightly with her fan and commented in her normally reserved tone, “Never thought I'd see the likes of you here, Nicholas.”
“Neither did I,” he ruefully agreed. “But, your grandson needed reinforcements.”
“Yes,” she nodded in amusement and didn't buy that rubbish for a minute. “I can see how it takes both of you to support that column you've been holding up all evening. Thought your presence might indicate you've decided to give up those rakish ways and settle down.”
“You know I'm still holding out for you, Duchy,” he teased, and she laughed in delight at his nonsense. Yes, Nicholas was perfect for Scarlett. Convincing the two of them might take a bit of doing, but Juliette was definitely up to the task.
~~~~~
Black as midnight eyes glittered darkly at the woman who lay before him in naked splendor. Never before had mortal man gazed upon such perfection. No other woman could ever compare with one such as she. She was a gift from the gods themselves. A pagan goddess of fire and passion sent down to tempt man beyond the bounds of sanity. To tempt him beyond the furthest reaches of his soul. She was all that he could ever want. All that he would ever need.
No artist could ever hope to capture the flawless beauty of her face. The hint of mischief in the depths of emerald eyes that sparkled with green fire. The classical perfection of her nose, the stubborn set of her chin, the impertinent, slightly naughty tilt of her lips, or the sheer brilliance of her smile. The way the sunlight reflected off the multicolored shades of red and gold hair, transforming it into a mane of brazen flame cascading around her.
His burning gaze traveled over silken skin tinged a soft, dusty gold by the suns caressing rays. Down to a pair of breasts so lush they could make a grown man weep, over an impossibly small waist, gently curving hips and a long length of leg that no sculptor could ever emulate. She was exquisite. Flawless. Perfect in every detail.
And she was his.
“Mine,” he said in a whisper of silken heat as he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss filled with reverence. “Mine,” he vowed as he worshiped at the altar of her glorious breasts. “All mine,” he moaned as he lowered himself atop her, thrusting deeply into her welcoming heat.
The pleasure was too exquisite, too intense to bear. Mere words could not adequately describe the sheer ecstasy of being one with her. She was the reason for his very existence and this was the moment he had waited his entire life for. He framed her face with trembling hands, looked deep into her desire
laden eyes and whispered in a darkly seductive voice,
“If questioning would make us wise, No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech, No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh, And love not bound in hearts of flesh,
No aching breasts would yearn to meet, And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows, The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need, To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the 'If' and 'Why', I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live, And life in me is what you give.”
“Nicky,” she breathed brokenly, moved beyond words at the depth of his emotions spoken so eloquently. Wrapping one slender arm around his neck, her fingers sliding sensuously through his hair, she pulled him closer, her sultry voice thick with need as she pleaded, “Love me, Nicky.”
“Always,” he vowed and there in the midst of a flower laden field, he proceeded to make love to her until neither one of them were capable of coherent speech. Their mingled gasps of pleasure were carried away by the gentle breeze as were their mutual cries of ecstasy. For endless moments, the couple lay entwined, their hearts pounding, lungs laboring, bodies held tightly together, loathe for the idyllic interlude to end.
“Scarlett,” Nicholas barely breathed; completely enraptured by the love they shared.
“I beg your pardon. Did you say something, Your Grace?”
At the sound of his valet’s voice, Nicholas jerked abruptly awake. He opened his eyes, groaned in realization and closed them again. “No,” he muttered into the pillow beneath him that both arms were wrapped around. The pillow that he had apparently been making love to if the damp stickiness pressed between his body and the sheet was any indication.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” Felder replied as he pulled open the drapes to let the morning sunlight in.
It had been a dream, Nicholas thought regretfully as he rolled onto his back and slung an arm across his eyes. Bloody hell. Another damn dream about making love to Scarlett. It was by no means the first, nor would it be the last, he was certain. But what else could a man do when he could not in good conscience touch the one woman he wanted above all others? At least in his dreams, he was free to do all the deliciously wicked things his mind conjured up while he was awake.
And then some.
A wicked smile touched his lips. Some of his dreams about her would make a devout debauchee blush. This one had been exceedingly tame in comparison. Although, this was the first time he'd quoted poetry to her. Nicholas snorted in amusement at the idea. Scarlett detested poetry. She'd think he was foxed to the gills if he ever did such a thing. Hell, who was he trying to kid? If he ever got her naked, the last thing he'd do was quote poetry.
His sated body hardened at the thought. God, how he wanted her. It was nearly impossible to believe that one woman could so consume a man's every waking thought. Even his every sleeping thought. But if ever a woman had the power to do such a thing, it was Scarlett Ashbrook. She was a seductive minx wrapped in the body of a temptress. A man would have to be dead not to want her.
Nicholas was nowhere near the grave.
It was an impossible situation. Untenable even. But his cock did not listen to his brain's commands when it came to her. No, it had a will of its own and nothing short of total possession would ever satisfy it, that he knew for certain. For three damnably long years he had suffered a living hell each and every time she was near. To want something that desperately, with that degree of hunger was intolerable. But he had no other choice. Hell, he'd never had a choice in the matter at all.
When Scarlett was just fifteen, Nicholas had returned home after a six month absence, and been genuinely shocked by the changes in her. The tall, gangly hoyden had developed some luscious feminine curves that he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined. Not that he'd ever had any dreams about her at that point, wild or otherwise, thank God.
When she had thrown herself into his arms to welcome him home, his entire body had become one quivering mass of raw need. His physical reaction had both stunned and sickened the young duke. After all, Scarlett was just a child. A child that he had loved and protected since her birth. A child that he thought of as a little sister. Surely it had to be indecent and depraved for him to have such an intense desire for her. Not to mention a betrayal of both her trust and that of her brother.
Determined to quell the unwanted lust, he'd spent a completely hedonistic week with his mistress, until his body was so sated and exhausted that he'd been certain the desire had been abated. He'd been wrong. One innocuous touch from Scarlett, and he'd ached all over with the urge to pull her into his arms and take his fill of her sweet innocence. His need for her had only grown stronger with time.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Jaded rake he might be, but he would never stoop so low as to seduce an innocent, especially one who trusted him implicitly. A man did not seduce his best friend’s sister. At least not a man of honor. Nicholas was, above all things, an honorable man. So, he did the only thing he could do. He dreamed.
And even though that would never be enough, ah, what delicious dreams they were.
Chapter Fourteen
Langford House, London, England, 1812
The misery dragged on for days. Each party and route and ball she attended, none of the eligible young men managed to catch her eye, no matter how hard they tried. And they did try very hard to do so. Scarlett was trying to enjoy herself, but these men persisted in following her around like lost pups and it annoyed her to no end.
She still had suitors calling daily, most of which she turned away because they were too old, too short, too fat or any other seemingly valid reason that she could give her grandmother. Apparently, too stupid didn't qualify as a valid reason with Juliette; otherwise the majority of them would not have been allowed entrance.
The legion of eligible young men that did gain an audience made her wish they hadn't. If nothing else, this experience had completely convinced her that she'd go insane married to any of the mincing fops she'd met. They all seemed so young and immature when she compared them to Nicholas, which she couldn't help doing since he was her ideal. None of them were as handsome and charming as he was, and not one of them could make her tingle from head to toe just by entering the same room like Nicholas did.
Scarlett was fully aware that her unusual upbringing played a significant role in her current dissatisfaction. She was used to conversing with Devlin's friends, men a great deal more mature and sophisticated than the puling whelps trailing after her. The ton would have a field day if they knew she was much more comfortable with jaded rakes than the young bucks her own age.
Claiming that the constant demands of the rigorous social season would be too much for her, Juliette had enlisted Lady Miranda Sheridan, Countess Winslow to assist her in the duties of a chaperone. Everyone knew it was merely a ploy to get her granddaughter back into society where she belonged, instead of sequestered away on her brother's country estate. Miranda had very reluctantly agreed to aid the dowager and hated the tedious morning calls as much as her younger cousin did.
Miranda was still grieving the loss of her husband, years after the required period of mourning had ended. Since she refused to give up her widow’s weeds, the family believed she had simply loved too deeply to ever love again. She was far too young and beautiful to remain alone, so Juliette used every available opportunity to drag her granddaughter into society, in the hopes that she could find love again.
Since she was a walking scandal herself, the young men all eyed the countess more warily than they did the formidable duchess. Their reaction was understandable enough since she was known among the members of the ton as the Black Widow, thanks to some ridiculous rumor that she had murdered her husband in cold blood.
How Scarlett wished her c
ousin's reputation would have been enough to keep her so called suitors away, but it wasn't. There were still so many of them, she had no choice but to continue to allow them to call on her in groups, and that was even worse. Each of them was vying for her attention in the most outlandish manner and she was about to lose her temper and hiss and spit at them much like Rajah did.
The cat that Nicholas had given her, did not like any of her suitors, and made his displeasure forcefully apparent if the men foolishly ventured too close. The duchess had insisted that Scarlett keep the vicious feline in her room during these morning calls, but Miranda didn't seem to mind the cat being rude to her unwanted guests. So, there she sat surrounded by men, Rajah safely ensconced in her lap, when she saw Nicholas enter the foyer.
Excusing herself from the gaggle of young men, Scarlett had to force herself not to run to him. All but dragging him out of earshot, she pleaded desperately, “Help me, Nicky.”
~~~~~
“Help you with what, kitten?” He asked indulgently as he scratched the cat behind the ears affectionately. Rajah absolutely adored Nicholas, barely tolerated Devlin, and otherwise terrorized men in general, servants included.
“They won't leave me alone,” she informed him in vexation. “Hells breath, I'm going to fetch Dev's guns and start shooting them.”
“How many are in there?” He asked curiously.
“Davy has been breaking them into groups of twelve, but since there were only sixteen left outside, he allowed them all entrance so we could get it over with,” she said in disgust.
“Sixteen?” He queried in annoyance and didn’t even want to know how many groups there had been. “And none of them are suitable?”
“Only for target practice,” she scowled. “Please, Nicky, help me get rid of them.”
“What would you have me do?” He asked patiently. What he'd like to do was thrash each of the miserable curs and throw them out bodily.