Mara stared deeply into his eyes, hers full of promised pleasure. “And will you teach me these ways, Nicholas?” she inquired huskily as she rubbed her lips against his throat.
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, an expression of mock indecision on his handsome face. “I’m not sure if I’d be doing you a favor or not. Or indeed, if the man you’ll eventually wed would appreciate my initiating you into the finer arts. You’d certainly be one hell of a wife. But unfortunately, not for me.”
Mara bit her lip, feeling a sharp pain at his casual acceptance of her with another man. She caressed his powerful shoulders and with a soft smile curving her mouth moved so she lay on top of him, surprising him by the sudden boldness of her ploy. She languidly stretched out full length along the top of his body. She could feel the growing hardness of him under her thighs and, staring up into his green eyes with a quizzical look in hers, she whispered, “Are you sure you’re not the right man for me?”
“If I were still the gentleman I’d been raised to be,” Nicholas sighed, “then I would probably ask you to marry me, but I really am not the right man for you, ma petite. My way of life is no life for you. You’d be far happier here on the rancho with the good Andres. He’ll give you the love you deserve. Your love, Amaya, will be returned in full by him. That is something I can’t give you,” Nicholas offered honestly.
Mara swallowed painfully. “You feel nothing for me?” she whispered huskily.
Nicholas lifted her down-bent head up to his face. “I’m attracted to you more than to any woman I’ve met in a long time, my dear. You’re a beautiful woman, a damned bewitching one, and one I want to make love to,” Nicholas told her, staring deeply into her wide, tawny eyes, “but I can promise you no more than that. Can you accept that?”
Mara bit her lip and nodded. “I won’t demand any—”
Nicholas’s mouth cut off the last of her words as he smothered her lips with his mouth, his tongue searching hers as he explored the softness of her mouth, his hands cupping her buttocks and pressing her to him as her awakening body responded in frank eagerness.
Mara pulled her mouth away from his lips and stared down at his hard face, his lips softened with lovemaking and curving in a slight smile of satisfaction as he lay beneath her curious gaze, his thick lashes masking his thoughts.
“What did you mean that I puzzled you?” Mara asked, suddenly remembering his earlier comment. “It seemed to me that even when you met me for the first time you were surprised. Perhaps you’ve dreamed of me all of your life,” she said provocatively, “and were astounded to meet the woman of your dreams in the flesh.”
Nicholas smiled as his hands lingered against her soft breast. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he slid from the bed and walked over to his vest, which had been thrown across a chair. Mara watched him in puzzlement as he drew something from one of the pockets. She allowed her gaze to roam freely over him in admiration as he came back to the bed.
“I don’t know if I dreamed of you or not, although I wouldn’t be surprised if that face hadn’t haunted my dreams as well,” he said oddly, “for it certainly has been in my thoughts. That face could be yours.”
He held out the delicate gold locket, flicking it open as he placed it in Mara’s palm. Mara stared down at her portrait. She could feel the muscles of her face tightening. Her own half-smile and golden eyes gazed enigmatically up at her, beside the blue eyes she remembered so vividly.
Nicholas stared at Mara intently, but detected no sign of emotion or discomfiture. “You can see why I seemed startled when I first saw you, for you could be her double.”
“Who is she?” Mara managed to ask, her voice so low that Nicholas had to lean close to catch her words.
“No insult intended, my dear, but she’s an actress, Mara O’Flynn,” he answered shortly.
At the contemptuous note in his voice Mara glanced up, noting the cruel expression in the dark green eyes as he stared down at the picture in the locket.
“You hate her, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I vowed I would find her one day and seek revenge for something she did,” Nicholas explained as his eyes moved to the picture of Julian.
“Who is the boy?” Mara forced herself to seem calm.
“My nephew,” Nicholas said abruptly as he took the locket from Mara’s opened hand.
Mara stared down at her bare thighs as she knelt on the bed, her thick hair hiding her expression. “Why do you want to hurt her? What did she do to you?”
Nicholas was still staring down at the faces in the locket as he replied casually, “It doesn’t matter. Since you are not Mara O’Flynn you have nothing to fear.”
Mara felt her lips tremble as she fought to control the urge to run from his room. Dear God…if he ever found out who she really was? Mara risked a glance at him through a strand of hair and swallowed nervously at the intense look on his face. She clenched her fists beneath the covers as she realized the enormity of the situation she found herself in. She had fallen in love with that unfortunate boy’s uncle. Julian. Yes, Julian. She knew now she hadn’t truly forgotten his name. She rubbed her aching temple, wondering what she was going to do. She knew she couldn’t stay in his bed a moment longer and still keep up the charade.
Mara jumped in surprise when she felt Nicholas’s arm slide around her, cupping her breasts as he nibbled along her shoulder and neck, his demanding lips impatiently pushing aside the heavy curtain of silken hair.
“Enough talk of the past,” Nicholas breathed against her ear, nipping the soft lobe, “I’m more interested in you and me, not some other woman who has nothing to do with us.”
Mara nearly choked at the casually dismissing words that made a fool out of him as he made love to that very woman right now. Mara shuddered as she thought of the black rage that would throw him into, and vowed that she would be miles away before anything could happen to enlighten him concerning her true identity.
She resisted as he pulled her back against his bare chest, his hands caressing the curve of her hip as he pressed his face into the mass of fragrant hair. “Please, Nicholas, don’t,” Mara objected as she tried to release herself.
At her words Nicholas lifted his warm mouth from her shoulder and turned her around in his arms, cradling her as she lay against his chest and he stared down into her pale face. Her golden eyes looked up at him luminously, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of fear in them before she lowered her lashes.
“No?” he demanded softly as he lowered his mouth to her parted lips and kissed her deeply, savoring their soft sweetness as he rubbed his lips against hers. But Mara could stand no more and struggled to free her lips from his as his sensual mouth ravished hers, creating a tide of rising passion that she seemed to have little control over as she felt herself wanting to respond wantonly to him.
As she opened her eyes, she felt sanity begin to return to her as she saw a pale dawn beginning to break over the dark horizon, soon to glow goldenly through the bars of the window. Her mouth free at last as he lowered his head to nip softly with his teeth along the soft curve of her breasts, Mara said huskily, “It’s dawn, Nicholas. I must go; please let me leave you now. I mustn’t be seen leaving your room. Please, Nicholas,” Mara repeated helplessly, gasping in surprise as he fondled her boldly and intimately, molding her against him to make her aware of his desire.
“And what if I say no?” he asked softly, hugging her naked body to him. “I think I’ll keep you prisoner here in my room for the whole day, making love to you over and over again.”
“You wouldn’t embarrass me so, Nicholas.” Mara could hear the desperation in her voice as her eyes locked with his.
Nicholas smiled regretfully. “No, I suppose I’m still that much of a gentleman.” Nicholas sighed as he released Mara and lay back against the pillows, an amused expression softening his features as he watched her untangle herself from the bedclothes and struggle to her feet.
As Mara found her
robe on the floor, she felt his green eyes burning into her slender back. As she turned, wrapping the robe around her naked body, she caught his gaze sliding over her, possessive pleasure in his eyes.
Mara hooked her thumbs into the silk sash tied securely around her narrow waist. She couldn’t find anything to say as she stood unhappily tongue-tied before him. He lay stretched out on the bed, his feet casually crossed, his muscular arms folded behind his head as he silently watched her, noting her uncomfortably flushed face and nervous shifting from foot to foot.
She dragged her eyes away from the sardonic look on his handsome face. “I’m leaving.”
But before she could reach the door, Nicholas had risen from the bed and caught her from behind. She could feel him against her through the fine silk of her robe. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her hard against his chest and thighs. He pressed soft kisses along her neck and jaw, his hands finding their way beneath the thin covering of silk. He caressed her tender breasts. With gentle determination Nicholas raised her chin, arching her throat against his shoulder as his lips closed over her mouth.
“Just to make sure you remember me, ma petite,” he whispered. Finally, he let her go, his hand lingering against her buttock as he opened the door for her, glancing out first to see that they were alone. Turning her into his arms, he kissed her with slow deliberation before letting her leave the room.
Mara stood for a moment in the gloomy darkness of the corridor, her lips still tingling with his kiss as the door closed softly behind her. Then she ran silently across the courtyard to her room as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.
She fell across her bed and buried her head in her arms. What cruel twist of fate had brought Nicholas Chantale into her life?
“Damn, damn, bloody damn,” Mara swore beneath her breath as she tried to erase the night’s events from her mind. But it was useless. The Creole was as much a part of her as she was of herself.
Mara’s bitter laugh was muffled by the bedspread. She realized that Nicholas had had his revenge on her without even being aware of it. “And ’twas far crueler and more vindictive than you could ever have planned otherwise,” Mara whispered, “for I’ve fallen in love with you, just as Julian did with me. And you wouldn’t be any kinder to me than I was to him.”
Mara closed her eyes, blocking out Nicholas’s face, wishing it were just a dream she was waking up from but it wasn’t, for her skin still tingled from the touch of his hands.
“Why is nothing ever as it seems?” Mara murmured into her pillow, her eyes finally closing in exhaustion as she dozed fitfully.
All farewells should be sudden.
—Byron
Chapter 6
Mara opened her eyes to the sun streaming brightly through her window. She could hear the singing of birds. She rolled over, momentarily forgetting the previous evening until she felt the soreness of her breasts and noticed the faint bruises covering her body.
She was about to get to her feet when there was a knock on the door. She scrambled quickly beneath the covers, her shoulders disappearing behind the sheet. Mara expected to see one of the servants with her usual cup of morning chocolate. Feliciana entered instead.
Mara eyed her suspiciously as Feliciana awkwardly handed her the cup from her still-bandaged hands, her dark eyes avoiding Mara’s unblinking stare. She stepped back from the bed. “This is unusual, isn’t it?” Mara asked coldly, taking out her mood on the young Californian for whom she felt little affection anyway.
“I must tell you…confess…what I have done,” Doña Feliciana said hesitantly, an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks.
“You’ve come to the wrong place for confession, haven’t you? The church is next door,” Mara reminded her unsympathetically. “Listen, thank you for the chocolate, but I’ve got a blinding headache and I’m just not up to any gossip. So if you don’t mind?”
Feliciana clasped her hands together nervously, grimacing in pain as she forgot her burns. She was still undressed and wearing a robe over her long, white nightdress, her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. “It is my doing that you have suffered discomfort since coming to the rancho,” she admitted, shame on her face as she looked quickly away from Mara’s golden eyes, now narrowed in interest.
“What do you mean?” she asked quietly.
“You fall from your horse, sí? I loosen the strap. You never say, but I am the one who planted the scorpion in your boot.” She paused diffidently, then asked, “You have suffered from the headache, sí? You have not slept well? It is because I placed the crushed laurel leaves beneath your pillow and rubbed the essence into the silk where you would place your cheek. You have breathed deeply of it. I am sorry. I ask—no, I beg your forgiveness. It was wrong of me, but I hated you so. You seemed to have everything. You would have taken Andres from me. I could not bear it.” Feliciana’s dark eyes pleaded for absolution. “You saved my life. You did not have to, but you did. I have been so horrible to you, and yet you risked yourself for me.”
Mara laughed shortly in disbelief as she began to realize the depths to the seemingly demure Feliciana. She and Brendan had underestimated everyone around here, their own arrogance and intricate strategies allowing them to ignore and overlook the more simple and open hostilities. At least she was relieved to learn that it hadn’t been the mischief of Jeremiah Davies and Raoul, for that would have indicated a more serious threat to her because of her knowledge of their unlawful activities; instead, it was just malicious mischief by a jealous girl.
“You must forgive me, instead,” Mara said, “for I seem to be the one who wronged you, Feliciana. I thought you a weak nonentity, hardly worth a second thought.”
“I do not understand,” Feliciana said as she came closer to the bed, the cynical, amused smile on Mara’s face confusing her. “You forgive me, please?”
“Certainly,” Mara said, suddenly tired of playing with other people’s feelings. “As long as I don’t suffer any more unexplainable accidents. And you will see that my headaches disappear, won’t you? Of course, as I’m not planning on a protracted visit, that won’t be any problem,” Mara added softly.
Feliciana nodded her head eagerly. “Sí, and you do not hate me? I will accept you as Andres’s wife and even leave the rancho should you desire,” Feliciana assured her in a trembling voice, properly humbled for her misdeeds.
“Please,” Mara sighed, holding up a slender hand. “You are forgiven, although I’m thinking ’tis me who should really be asking your forgiveness. So please, no more of this.” Mara wished Feliciana would leave now that she’d cleared her conscience.
“I do not always understand what you say, Amaya,” Feliciana said in puzzlement, “but as long as I am forgiven, then I will feel free to enter the convent and make my pledge to God.”
Mara eyed the young Californian thoughtfully. “I’d advise you to wait awhile before committing yourself to a life of wearing black for the rest of your days. Who knows what could happen soon to change your mind?” Mara asked. She thought of the certain future for Feliciana, at the hacienda as the wife of Andres and the mother of a brood of small Villareales.
Mara was to remember her fateful words on the morrow.
All the rest of the day passed quietly enough, although Brendan was openly curious as he watched Nicholas and Mara at lunch, aware that something was going on between them. He was not sure he liked it whatever it was.
“Damned impertinence of the man,” Brendan complained as he accompanied Mara on a ride later that day. He stared over his shoulder at the Creole who was riding a discreet distance behind them, then stared hard at Mara’s averted face. “What’s going on between the two of you? It’s not decent the way he’s been looking at you all day.”
Mara raised her slim eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re complaining about someone not being decent? Surely my ears are deceiving me,” Mara retorted, masking her embarrassment with sarcasm.
Brendan snorted derisively. “Even a fool couldn�
��t miss it.”
Mara smiled slightly. “And you’re certainly no fool, are you, Brendan? Perhaps, however, a bit fanciful. And what do you mean, ‘couldn’t miss it’?”
“He’s making love to you with his eyes. The way they rove over you, as if he has some intimate knowledge of you. It’s damned insolent of him.”
“Don’t be absurd, Brendan,” Mara scoffed, her face flushing a bright pink.
“Ridiculous, am I?” Brendan demanded angrily. “Just don’t go and get involved with that Frenchman. It can only mean trouble, mark my words. Besides, he’s not rich. It wouldn’t be worth your time, my love,” Brendan added warningly.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Mara began hesitantly. “Can’t we leave the rancho now? Do we have to wait for Don Luís to return? How do we know he will? He could be lying to us again, couldn’t he? You do want to get to the gold mines, don’t you?”
Brendan stared at Mara incredulously. “What the divil’s got into you anyway? And just how are we to leave—on foot? And what explanation are we to give our host? And where will we put up for the night? Are we to pay our bill with our good looks? I think not, my love. You’ve been the one cautioning me to be patient, and now all of a sudden you’re having qualms about the whole thing?” Brendan eyed Mara suspiciously. “Has it something to do with the Frenchie? Has he found out something?”
Mara bit her lip indecisively. Should she tell him? He could become so unreasonable, and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation between Nicholas and him.
“You might as well tell me. You’ve never been good at lying to me.” Brendan sighed.
“Very well, Brendan, you might as well learn the truth,” Mara gave in. “The Creole recognized me from London. He suspected I was a certain actress, called Mara O’Flynn. He remembered seeing me on the stage.”
“The divil he does!” Brendan exclaimed incredulously.
“At least he did suspect the truth. Now I think I’ve convinced him that I am not Mara O’Flynn, but I’ve only allayed his suspicions temporarily. And it certainly wouldn’t do to have him find out the truth.”
Laurie McBain Page 22