The Passion n-2

by Nicole Jordan

  Nicholas felt his resolve harden. She needed shaking up, even though she didn't know it.

  "So," he said finally. "Do you mean to live the rest of your life hiding behind your widow's weeds?"

  Her blue eyes lifted to his. "What do you mean?"

  "You've immured yourself in a prison here. Not one of your own making, but a prison nonetheless. You're a captive of convention and decorum, letting society dictate your every action."

  "There is nothing wrong with following the dictates of society."

  "There is if you let it drain the very life from you."

  Aurora pursed her lips together in a frown. "I am not like you, Nicholas. I want a quiet, orderly life."

  "I don't think you do, or you never would have come to my rescue and agreed to wed a stranger."

  "Those were highly unusual circumstances. I am perfectly content with my situation."

  "Are you?"

  "Yes. I enjoy a very full life, despite my current limitations. My household may be much smaller than the one I managed for my father, but it still requires effort. I write letters often – actually, I have a wide correspondence. Friends call on me frequently. I read a great deal. I ride daily…"

  "Ah, yes, your secret vice. What other hidden desires do you harbor, Aurora?"

  She ignored the question. "I have what I have always wanted… independence."

  "I don't think you can call this independence. You live in constant fear of what others will think. You can't go out in public without hiding your face or out after dark at all. You feel trapped here, you've intimated as much."

  "Perhaps, but only because I am determined to avoid scandal. What is acceptable behavior for a man is not at all tolerable in a lady, much less a widow."

  Determinedly, Nicholas held her gaze. "Either you're deceiving yourself or you don't know yourself very well. I think there are two sides of you. The woman who bows down to convention, worshiping as if it were an icon. And the one who loves galloping wildly through the park for the sheer joy of it. The same one who gave herself to a stranger in a blazing night of passion."

  He could see by the darkening of her expressive eyes that he had hit a nerve. "I think you want to escape that straitlaced prison of yours," he pressed in a low voice, "to let yourself be a sensual woman, but you're afraid to take the risk."

  When she didn't respond, he drew the journal from his pocket and set it on the table before her. Aurora stared at it, her eyes very blue.

  "I thought of you the entire time I was reading this. You're very much like the anonymous lady who wrote it."

  "I cannot see any resemblance," she replied defensively, as if embarrassed by the thought. "Our circumstances could hardly be more different. She was French, enslaved by corsairs and imprisoned in a Turkish harem. She was forced to become a concubine and engage in acts no lady would ever willingly abide."

  "She was innocent of carnal knowledge until she met a man who could fire her blood."

  "Indeed. And her… her lust came to rule her."

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Have you never wondered what it would be like to experience that kind of passion? To want someone that desperately?"

  Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Nick suspected he'd come close to the truth.

  "I've wondered," he admitted. "My father once tried to explain how he felt about Raven's mother. He said that if I read the journal, I might understand."

  Aurora lowered her gaze, her ivory skin flushing. "It was a very compelling story," she said finally, "but their love was doomed to fail. Desiree lost her heart to her master and became trapped by her obsession."

  "But she never regretted loving."

  "That was not the lesson I took from the journal," Aurora murmured, although not as staunchly as before. "I thought she was foolish to allow any man to rule her heart in that manner."

  "My father believed it was better to have only one moment of true passion than never to know it at all."

  She hesitated. "And look what it gained him. A lifetime of misery, yearning for a woman he could never have." Aurora shook her head, as if trying to convince herself. "It is far better never to give your heart than risk having it torn out."

  Nick's gaze dropped to her tempting mouth that had hardened in resolve. A rush of desire swept over him as he thought of transforming her stubborn conviction into melting surrender.

  Nicholas drew a ragged breath at the erotic image. "I think you are a woman like Desiree, Aurora. You have the same wild spirit."

  She set down her cup unsteadily. "You're mistaken."

  His gaze never faltered. "What is it that frightens you about that notion? That you could feel passion that intense? Or that you could be jolted out of that cocoon you've wrapped around yourself?"

  She rose abruptly. "I think you should go, Nicholas."

  After a moment's hesitation, he set down his own cup and stood. When he closed the distance between them, she didn't back away, obviously determined not to let him intimidate her.

  Deliberately he took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the inner flesh of her wrist. She stood defiantly, unmoving, yet her cheeks flushed, betraying her struggle for control. More revealing, he could see the yearning of long-suppressed desire in her eyes.

  She was ripe for passion, for life, Nicholas knew. She desperately needed to be freed from the rigid shackles that bound her, and he was the only man to do it. But he wouldn't fight her just yet. The battle had scarcely begun, and he could be patient.

  "I am not mistaken, siren," he said softly. "I've tasted all that sweet fire hidden beneath your layers of cool reserve. There's a sensual, passionate woman waiting to be set free. And I intend to find her."

  With a brief bow, he turned and walked away.

  Aurora stood frozen, staring after Nicholas's retreating back. When he had left, she let out a shaky breath. Her heart was still hammering in her chest from his nearness, his sheer magnetism.

  How did he always manage to overwhelm her that way? How could he make her blood race with a simple touch, turning her knees to water and her willpower to jelly? Why did he kindle such inner turmoil? He brought out the worst in her – dark emotions she didn't want to feel. This time, however, his probing questions had unnerved her as much as his physical presence and his provoking behavior.

  Weakly she sank into her chair. Was Nicholas right? Was she like Desiree? Did she have a wild spirit just waiting to be set free?

  Certainly she was a different woman since meeting Nicholas Sabine… driven by desires she had never known before. She had fought her powerful attraction to him, along with the restless yearning he roused in her so effortlessly, but it was there, simmering below the surface.

  Uncertainly Aurora picked up the journal he had left for her. She had been shocked by the explicit sensuality she'd found there, but the love story had captured her imagination. Vulnerable to her master's gentle seduction and exotic temptations, Desiree had been swept up in a storm of passion she never before imagined…

  What would it be like to know such incredible passion? To be overwhelmed by the madness of love, the blindness of desire? To experience feelings so powerful they could blot out any vestiges of wisdom and reason?

  She'd had a fleeting taste of such passion on her wedding night, Aurora remembered unwillingly.

  The book fell open to a well-worn page:

  I love the many parts of you. I love your hard flesh so deep inside me. I love the weight and strength of you, so powerful against my softness. I love your feverish hunger, your desire that makes me feel so much a woman.

  Aurora shut her eyes. Nicholas. He reminded her so very much of the Frenchwoman's lover – bold, virile, vibrantly sensual. Like the prince in the journal, he had awakened a woman's tender longing deep within her.

  Against her will, her mind flashed to a vision of their marriage bed, the two of them together… Nicholas making love to her with such fierce tenderness, moving inside her, filling her with the pleasure sh
e needed, wanted.

  The same pleasure his dark eyes had promised moments ago.

  She shivered. She would not allow herself to surrender to the promise in his eyes. She dared not yield to him, no matter how his touch set her blood racing.

  Still, she couldn't deny her hungry yearning.

  Chapter Twelve

  My resistance seemed hopeless. How could I defend against the restless yearning he kindled in me?

  Over the course of the next few days, Aurora found herself cursing Nicholas Sabine more and more readily. The man was dangerous to her peace of mind. By night, he haunted her dreams. By day, the anticipation of seeing him filled her with a taut, achy restlessness that would not leave her.

  When she did encounter him, whether on her morning rides in the park or at some other venue, she always experienced a jolt, the same shivering awareness she'd felt when she'd first seen him on the quay in St. Kitts. Now, however, when she met his intense gaze, the heat in his dark eyes and the unguarded message it conveyed scorched her like hot coals.

  She couldn't avoid seeing him wherever she went, possibly because Nicholas had an ally in his sister; Raven evidently was in league with him, inviting Nicholas on their various shopping expeditions. He made their meetings look accidental and innocuous, but Aurora knew his campaign was carefully planned with the precision of a military general.

  She had no idea how to defend herself against such tactics. She had never before been the object of such single-minded determination. Nicholas was like a powerful storm sweeping everything in its path, destroying her equanimity in the process. No matter how she strove to remain serene and aloof, to disregard his sensual, ruthless charm, she found it impossible. He was outrageous, bold, provocative… irresistible.

  But it was the deeper feelings he roused in her that were the graver threat. He had only to breathe to stir a fierce ache of uneasy emotions inside her.

  She considered fleeing London for a time just to escape. Only yesterday she'd received a letter from Geoffrey's mother, Lady March, asking her to visit. Geoffrey's ten-year-old brother Harry was proving a handful, and Lady March claimed Aurora was the only one who could control him.

  Yet she couldn't leave London, Aurora knew. She would not act the coward. And she had a solemn obligation to support Raven. Moreover, her father was in Sussex – the Eversley and March estates adjoined – and she had no wish to encounter the duke, even to escape Nicholas.

  She thought she understood what drove his pursuit. It almost seemed as if he were wooing her, but Aurora felt certain her appeal stemmed from the challenge she presented. Winning her was a game to Nicholas. He was incited by the thrill of the chase.

  She began to wonder if resistance was the right course. If she ever actually surrendered to him – if she allowed him to win – perhaps then he might give up the hunt and go home, sparing them both endless grief. She didn't want Nicholas running her life, dictating how she should behave, what she should feel. It was the height of arrogance for him to presume to know her mind better than she herself did. He had compared her to the Frenchwoman in the journal, and perhaps there were similarities, Aurora acknowledged. But she had no room in her life for wildfire passions raging out of control, nor any desire for the kind of pain such passion could engender.

  Clearly she would have to devise a new plan for dealing with Nicholas. There had to be some way to turn the tables on him so that she could regain control of her life. She was never going to persuade him to leave her alone otherwise – for his sake as well as her own.

  The risk he was taking worried Aurora greatly. She lived in constant fear of his exposure. Lord Clune apparently had taken up his sponsorship and was showing Nicholas about London, squiring him to gaming clubs and indulging in other rakish diversions. She felt sure he would get himself killed if he kept up his reckless imposture.

  He was better known in England than he presumed, Aurora believed. But when he was nearly recognized, it was by a French emigre, of all people.

  Nicholas had escorted Raven and Aurora into a milliner's shop on Oxford Street. The proprietor, upon seeing him, gave a start and clasped her hands together, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu!" under her breath. Then Nicholas removed his beaver hat, fully exposing his dark hair, and the Frenchwoman's look turned to confusion.

  She seemed to recall herself and came forward to greet her clientele, but while Raven contemplated fashionable bonnets, the proprietor eyed Nicholas in puzzlement.

  "Pardon, monsieur," she said finally in a heavy accent. "I did not mean to stare, but you have the appearance of a man I once knew."

  Aurora felt herself tense, yet except for a polite smile, Nicholas kept his expression impassive. "Perhaps you mistake me for my cousin, madame. It happens with some frequency."

  "Your cousin is Mr. Nicholas Sabine of America?"

  "Yes."

  The woman moved forward to clasp his hand fervently. "Oh, monsieur, your cousin is truly an angel. He saved the lives of my entire family. Not only mine, but a half dozen other families as well. Never will I forget him or the debt we owe him."

  She was an older woman, with graying hair, but still quite beautiful, with the fine-boned structure and porcelain skin of an aristocrat. Nicholas gave her his most sensual smile, as if she were twenty years younger. "My cousin is a fortunate man, to be remembered so fondly by such a lovely lady."

  The proprietor flushed with pleasure and released his hand, almost in embarrassment. But when sometime later they concluded their shopping, she adamantly refused to let them pay for the three bonnets Raven had chosen.

  The moment they left the shop, Raven asked the question that had been burning on Aurora's lips. "What did she mean, you saved her family? You were too young to be part of their bloody revolution, were you not?"

  "Yes. But I happened to be in France afterward, during one of their gruesome governmental purges."

  "And you just happened to rescue a half dozen families from the guillotine?" Aurora said dryly.

  He shrugged. "Actually, it was only four. And it was a firing squad. The guillotine had been abandoned by then as too ‘uncivilized.'"

  Raven visibly repressed a laugh at his sarcasm, but Aurora was disturbed to learn of yet another situation where Nicholas could have been killed. She frowned at him over his sister's head.

  "I suppose you mean to claim you didn't enjoy playing the hero, courting danger and risking your life?"

  Nicholas shook his head. "Danger doesn't trouble me, but I didn't consciously seek the honor. I just seem to have a knack for becoming embroiled in rescues, even when I don't intend to."

  "Even so, the problem now," Aurora said slowly, striving for patience, "is that your exploits have made you infamous enough you cannot hope to escape recognition."

  "There are few people who know anything of my ‘exploits,' as you call them."

  "But if someone whom you met years ago recognized you, others will as well."

  "Then I will just deny the acquaintance as I did just now," he said mildly. "Stop worrying about me, love. It will only give you gray hairs."

  His answer dismayed her. Nicholas seemed oblivious to the danger he was in, indeed, seemed to thrive on it.

  Giving him a look of frustration, Aurora marched off toward her carriage, leaving him to follow with his sister.

  "You shouldn't tease her so, Nicholas," Raven said tightly. "She's worried that you will come to harm and only wants to protect you."

  Nick glanced at her quizzically, surprised to hear the anger in her voice. "Was I teasing her?"

  "You know you were. If you understood what Aurora has endured, you would not be so unkind."

  He raised an eyebrow. "What has she endured?"

  "She may be a wealthy duke's daughter, but her father made her life a misery. It must have been wretched for her, living under that tyrant's thumb, having to suffer his rages."

  "I trust you mean to explain what you are talking about."

  Raven glanced toward the carriage where
Aurora awaited her. "There is no time to discuss it now. Meet me at Tobley's Bookshop tomorrow afternoon and I will tell you."

  His concern aroused, Nick found himself impatiently waiting for Raven the next afternoon. When eventually she arrived with her maid, he followed her to a rear corner of the shop. They each pretended to peruse the shelves of novels while Raven explained what she had meant about the Duke of Eversley's rages.

  "His grace has a vicious temper," she murmured in a hushed voice, "that I had the misfortune to witness shortly after we arrived in England. I was living with my Aunt Dalrymple by then, but Aurora spent the first few days at her family's London house. Naturally she wrote to her father and told him of her marriage to you. She was concerned about his reaction, I knew, but I never dreamed it would be so violent. The duke came to London in a fury, outraged because she had sullied the family name by wedding a condemned criminal. I saw their confrontation myself."

  Raven shuddered. "I had just been admitted to their house by the butler – Aurora planned to escort me shopping, you see – when I heard someone shouting. I found Aurora in the drawing room with her father. His grace was standing there, shaking his fists at her and screaming. I could scarcely believe how livid he was. When Aurora tried to calm him, he picked up a heavy vase and threw it at her! Thank God it missed and merely shattered against the wall. It could have killed her."

  Nick felt a sudden knot of anger and revulsion coil in his gut at the picture his sister had drawn for him.

  "To my shame," Raven went on in a low voice, "I was too stunned to react, but her butler tried to intervene. That poor man is nearly a relic, he's so old, yet even though he was no match for the duke physically, he stepped between them. Eversley shoved him to the floor and went after Aurora, his fist raised. I honestly believe he would have struck her if he hadn't seen me. He stopped only because he didn't wish to commit such an outrageous indiscretion in front of a stranger."