Nicholas gave her the grin that had the power to turn her knees to hot wax and her insides to melted butter.
However, she refused to be reduced to mush by him. This was the man who believed her father guilty of treason.
Even if his denials were true—which Maria had reason to doubt—he’d still used her to gain access to her father. And she was not about to forgive him that. His casual disregard for her heart was inexcusable.
“Well?” she demanded. He was too recklessly handsome. The muscles of his arms were too well defined through the sleeves of his tunic, his thighs absurdly powerful under his hose. Maria intentionally glanced away. ’Twas against her purpose to be reminded of the man’s physical strength or prowess.
“’Tis a beautiful morn, love,” he said. “I merely wanted to spend it with the most beautiful of women—Lady Maria Burton.”
“Such truckling does not become you, Lord Kirkham .”
“Nay? But what does?”
“Your absence, my lord.”
“Ah, Maria, you wound me,” he said, placing one hand against his chest.
“As if that were possible,” she muttered.
He smiled and continued rowing the gig, his strokes smooth and steady, and so quick that he bypassed all the other boats headed down the river. He remained close to the west shore, while all the others headed across the Thames.
“You are not keeping up with the others,” Maria said.
“On the contrary,” he remarked, “I am far ahead of them.”
“Nicholas, change course,” Maria said, the motion of the boat making her queasy. “Let us join the rest of the party.”
“I thought I would take you…” He paused, and she looked down so he would not see her discomfiture. “Maria?”
The wave of nausea overtook her so quickly she was not prepared for it. She felt chilled and clammy. She swallowed several times to keep from becoming ill, but knew she was losing the battle. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand. “Nicholas, I think I’m going to be ill.”
She struggled to keep down her breakfast, while he did something with the boat. Suddenly they were no longer moving, and Nicholas was lifting her, carrying her away from the water.
He set her gently on the grass, in the sun. Then he sat down close to her and gathered her into his arms. Maria held one hand pressed to her stomach, and waited for the nausea to pass. He unfastened her chapeau and veil, and pulled her close. She heard him murmuring, and felt his lips upon her forehead and temple, but was so consumed by this wretched illness, she hardly noticed.
Finally, the awful sensations passed and she sat up, pulling slightly away from him.
“Better?”
She nodded, but said nothing. As much as she might want the comfort of his arms, she knew she must remain as distant as possible, to keep him from gaining advantage. He had too much sway over her.
“You turned quite green for a moment there,” he said gently, as if comforting an ailing child. He frowned with concern. “Are you certain you are all right?”
“Yes, Nicholas,” she replied. “’Twas just that awful boat ride. I’m unaccustomed to water travel.”
A vertical line creased his forehead as he gazed at her, and it was all Maria could do to keep from smoothing it with her fingers.
“We’ll wait here a bit and allow your stomach to settle before we go back.”
“Go back?”
He shrugged. “To Lady Eleanor’s assemblage on the other bank,” he said. “Or home. I’ll take you, either way.”
“I do not want to get back into that boat,” she said, eyeing the water warily.
The smile that quirked one corner of his mouth should have annoyed her, but she let it pass. She had no energy to argue with him now. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“Completely.”
“We could walk back to Westminster,” he said, leaning toward her and brushing his lips over her hair. “’Tis not so very far.”
Maria could not allow shivers of pleasure to influence her opinion of him, though his lips had the power to make her weak. She knew what he wanted from her, and ’twas not her undying devotion.
She forced herself to tip her head away from him. “Have you learned anything about the…the traitor?” she asked, putting distance between them.
Nicholas sighed and loosened his hold on her. “Nay. And I would appreciate it if you would stay out of it,” he said. “I have nightmares thinking of the danger in which you could find yourself in if—”
“Nicholas, ’tis my father whose reputation—his very life—is at stake here. I cannot sit idly by while you search for evidence against him.”
“Maria, I am not looking for—”
She stood abruptly. “So you say, Nicholas, but I—” A wave of dizziness made her weave slightly, but Nicholas vaulted to his feet and steadied her.
“Maria, you are not all right,” he said.
“I am,” she said stubbornly. She tried to take a step away, but he held her fast. “And if you do not remove your hand from my person, Lord Kirkham, I shall scream.”
“What? And not thrash me?”
In a huff, she turned and skulked away. She would not be baited by him, or seduced again. She had learned her lesson. Now she knew better than to allow him to use her as he’d done ever since following her to London.
In fact, she would return to Lady Eleanor’s party. All that was necessary was to cross the Thames in the little boat. With Nicholas.
Maria was certain she could withstand that short length of time in the gig, but not so sure about spending any more time alone with Lord Kirkham. She was determined, however, to rejoin the gathering across the river. There were so many young people present, both ladies and gentlemen, and Maria had looked forward to this outing ever since she’d received the invitation.
Besides, ’twas a lovely afternoon and she refused to allow Nicholas Hawken’s presence to sway her from her original purpose.
She changed course and began walking toward the bank of the river where Nicholas had pulled up the boat. He, of course, would follow, but Maria hoped he would not speak. She had nothing to say to him, and until he had new information regarding her father’s innocence, then he had nothing to say to her, either.
“I thought you were going to walk to Westminster!” Nicholas shouted after her. No woman should have such an alluring gait, he thought as he caught up to her. His body responded to every move she made, just as if she were lying naked beneath him.
No one had ever had this effect on him before, and it behooved him not to think of such things now. Maria could be in danger if she rattled the wrong person with her questions, and he felt ’twas imperative to get her promise that she would stay out of it.
“I changed my mind,” she said, without turning to look at him. “I wish to return to Lady Eleanor’s gathering.”
“Maria, we must talk,” he said, falling into step next to her. “That was my reason for coming today.” At least he had thought that was the reason.
“I have naught to say to you, Lord Kirkham.”
“Nicholas.”
She shrugged, and he decided not to argue the point.
“Have you done anything…spoken to anyone about—”
“Nay,” she replied, “not yet. I have no intention of causing my father so much as one moment of grief over these…these rude accusations.”
“Maria, I have not accused his grace of anything,” Nick said.
“Mayhap not yet, but if naught else, you are a persistent one, Lord Kirkham,” she said. “I have no doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for, and then ’twill be up to my father to prove his own innocence.”
“Maria, I have no intention—Will you stop a moment and discuss this with me?”
“I have naught more to say to you, my lord.”
“Oh, but I think you do.” He stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. He would get her to listen if he had
to tie her to a tree to do so.
Instead, he kissed her.
He felt a moment’s resistance, but then her lips softened and her hands quit pushing against him. “Maria,” he whispered, taking his mouth away for but an instant. His tongue teased her lips until she parted them and allowed him entry. He groaned with arousal and slipped one hand down to her hips, pulling her close.
Her hands encircled his neck, and her body pressed against his as she kissed him back. He sensed no reluctance, in spite of the words they’d exchanged so far.
God’s breath, he had missed this. Touching her, tasting her. His fingers rediscovered the fine muscles and bones of her throat; his mouth relearned her flavor.
His skin burned everywhere her hands touched. He ached for her, yet he would not make love to her here, on the public path. Instead of crossing the river to join the party, he would take Maria back to his own house in London, where he would make love to her all afternoon. He would make her so weak with passion that she would forget about her questions, and concentrate all her attention upon him.
What a glorious day ’twould be.
Suddenly, she groaned and pushed away from him. “Nay, Nicholas!” she cried. “You will not do this to me!”
“Do what?” he asked. “Do what to you?”
“Seduce me until I have nary a thought in my head,” she said, whirling away from him and storming down the path to the river on shaky legs.
Nick felt rather shaky himself. But he smiled at the thought of making Maria mindless. ’Twas good to hear her admit that he had such power over her.
He caught up to her once more.
“Please do not touch me again, Lord Kirkham.”
He smiled.
“I am serious, Nicholas,” she said. “Until this matter is resolved, I think ’tis better if we do not see one another.”
“I disagree.”
“It does not matter whether or not you agree,” she stated coolly. “I will not be at home when you call.”
“But you need not be at home, my lady fair, for me to spend time with you,” he said, enjoying her discomfiture. He would have her in his bed when the time was right, and not a moment later. Clearly, she was powerless to resist him.
“I will avoid you in public as if you were a leper.”
He snorted. “I will have you in bed again, Maria. Whether yours or mine is of no consequence. But rest assured, it will happen again. Soon.”
“Nay, Nicholas,” she said, “it will not. ’Tis my father’s wish that I choose a husband and—”
“Choose a husband!” He knew this, but did not care to have it thrown in his face after they’d just shared the most mind-numbing kiss within his memory.
“Yes. My father says I’ve had too few choices in my life and he wishes to remedy that.” Maria reached the reedy bank and eyed the gig. She did not look forward to floating across the river in it, but could see no other option. She hoped it would be a mercifully quick trip. “He says that, even though ’tis unconventional, he believes ’tis only right that I decide for myself—”
“Do not climb in without help, Maria.”
The exasperation in Nicholas’s voice was unmistakable. Good. He seemed annoyed enough to refrain from talking. He took her hand as she stepped over the side of the gig. Then he slid the little boat out onto the water, stepping into it when it was just deep enough to push off.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maria tried not to watch him as he sat in front of her in the gig, but she found that her nausea diminished when she kept her eyes on him, rather than on the water or the moving riverbank.
She went only slightly green during the crossing, and refused Nicholas’s attentions. He in turn ignored Maria’s request that he leave the party. He pulled the boat in, then helped her out of it and escorted her to the group. She studiously ignored him when several of Lady Eleanor’s female guests fawned over Nicholas and pleaded with him to stay. He seemed more than willing to satisfy their wishes.
Naturally he would, Maria thought, being a master at seduction.
She could only shake her head at these ladies, and herself, for falling prey to such transparent cajolery. Nicholas flirted shamelessly, winning approval from all the young women he encountered. His smile was too engaging. His words too charming.
And he was too obviously appreciative of the attributes the ladies displayed for his edification.
Maria could not watch. Deliberately forcing her attention elsewhere, she mingled with Lady Eleanor’s guests, meeting as many of them as possible, and keeping her distance from Nicholas. She intended to marry. And a likely bridegroom could very well be present here at Lady Eleanor’s party. In the meantime, Maria was going to enjoy every minute of the festivities.
Pointedly, she ignored the tittering laughter that surrounded Nicholas. She did not care to dwell on the likelihood that several of those ladies had already graced Nicholas’s bed. Nor did she care for the pang of jealousy that came with the thought.
It had naught to do with her. Nicholas was a callous womanizer. She would not fall prey to him again. She was here to socialize with as many of her newfound peers as possible—not to pine over what could never be with Lord Kirkham. Her father wanted her to marry, and he’d given her the uncommon luxury of making her own choice.
She would do so. Soon.
After a few rounds of paille-maille, the guests milled about while acrobats tumbled across the lawn. Jugglers tossed colorful balls, while festively dressed minstrels played harp and drums, trumpet and fiddle. It all seemed very much like Dunstan Fair, with the notable lack of stalls displaying goods for sale.
After the meal was served, for which Maria could muster little appetite after her bout of seasickness, Lady Eleanor declared that everyone should prepare to participate in a demonstration of skills. Each member of the party was to choose something at which he or she was an expert, then give a performance of that skill.
This sent a round of excited chatter through the ladies, but a frisson of dread through Maria. She had no particular skill, besides bearing trays of refreshments that were half again her weight. Maria doubted anyone would be impressed by that.
“Archery targets have been set up yonder,” Lady Eleanor announced, “and there is a ring for fencing. Musical instruments are here for your pleasure, and for those who would regale us with song, our minstrels will be pleased to accompany anyone.”
Nicholas sat down on the wool-covered ground behind Maria. He leaned close and said, for her ears alone, “’Tis unfortunate that your most provocative skill is best saved for the bedchamber.”
Maria gasped but said naught. Her heart pounded with this reminder of their intimate encounters, and her eyes darted to either side to see if any of her companions might have heard. Luckily, none had.
“Archers!” Lady Eleanor called. Her timing could not have been better. “The targets are ready!”
Everyone stood up from their places, straightening their clothes, and began walking toward a copse where huge bales of hay had been set up. Brightly colored cloth squares were attached, providing challenging targets. Squires stood together, holding bows and quivers of arrows, awaiting their masters.
“Have you ever shot an arrow, my lady fair?” Nicholas asked, walking next to her.
“Nay, Lord Kirkham,” she replied, refusing to let him ruffle her.
“Shall I show you how?” he offered, placing her hand within the crook of his arm. “I would make it a most personal lesson.”
Maria pulled her arm from his grasp and increased her pace, moving well ahead of him. She would not fall prey to his advances, no matter how he made her heart flutter. He was not the man for her—not with his seductive ways, and his distasteful clandestine activities. She would stay clear of him at any cost.
The archers took their places and shot at the targets, amid the cheers and applause of their squires and the other guests.
“Lord Kirkham,” Lady Eleanor cried, “do you not shoot?”
“Swords, then?” she asked slyly.
“If you wish,” Nicholas said good-naturedly.
Maria watched as he doffed his tunic and stood in his shirtsleeves, rolling up the sleeves to bare his muscular forearms, which, along with his hands, were liberally sprinkled with dark hair. She was aware of the strength and power in those hands, as well as their capacity for tenderness.
She closed her eyes in dismay when he picked up his sword.
“’Tis like the tournament of peace, Lady Maria,” Eleanor said, taking note of Maria’s anxiety. “The swords are blunted. The opponents will merely fence.”
Lady Eleanor’s reassurances gave little relief to Maria, who recalled all too well the events of that tournament. An unprincipled opponent could do a great deal of damage before being discovered.
Not that Nicholas’s well-being was of any concern to her. She merely disliked the idea of seeing either contestant injured.
“Lord Mydelton,” Eleanor said, turning to speak to a handsome young nobleman. She handed a stringed instrument to him. “Your forte is the fiddle, is it not?”
“Aye, my lady,” the young man replied, taking the fiddle from her. He began to play a lively carole as the swordsmen began their contest. The other musicians followed Mydelton’s lead, providing a lively background during the fencing match.
To Maria’s great relief, the contest was held in good fun, amid jesting and laughter. Neither Nicholas nor his opponent took the contest too seriously, but called it a draw after only a few rounds.
“Well done, my lords,” Lady Eleanor said as she awarded both men a ribbon and mock medallion. “’Tis my understanding that your weapon of choice is most unconventional, Lord Kirkham.”
“And what would that be, my lady?” Nicholas took a dry cloth and wiped the light sheen of sweat from his face. His hair curled slightly over his forehead, and Maria found herself unable to take her eyes from him, even though the man’s very presence vexed her.
Eleanor gestured toward one of the squires, who disappeared behind his companions. “The whip, my lord,” she said, “as you well know.”
His Lady Fair Page 17