by Lady Vixen
For one so large, Saber moved with a quicksilver grace, and before Nicole could guess his purpose, he had taken one long stride to her side and with rough, deft motions he loosened her hair.
Freed from the confining queue, her hair tumbled in soft waves of mahogany fire around her shoulders, and Lafitte's black eyes narrowed with appreciation.
"Very pretty," he said softly. "Would you be interested in selling her? I would give you a good price."
Nicole's eyes widened and her shocked gaze swung to Saber. Unaware of the imploring look in her dark eyes, she stared at him, willing him to say no.
He gave her a sardonic glance. Turning to Lafitte he said smoothly, "Perhaps, later. I've not yet grown used to her. Ask me again in a week or two."
Ordinarily Nicole would have reacted to those indifferent words, but she didn't like the calculating glint of Lafitte's eyes and decided instantly that she would like even less to share with him the intimacies Saber had forced upon her. She would delight in carving out Saber's liver and feeding it to the sharks, and yet at the same time she was reluctant to let Lafitte see that all was not well between them. Nicole felt rather than saw the curiosity in Saber's look, as she remained mute in the face of his taunt.
After waiting for a minute, he shrugged his shoulders and remarked infuriatingly, "You see, Jean, the almost-perfect woman—she knows when to keep her mouth shut!"
Nicole's eyes, burning with outraged dark fire, flew to Saber's face but wisely, for once, she said nothing. Saber grinned at her and dared her to prove him wrong.
Watching the pair of them, the black-bearded giant and the slender defiant girl, Lafitte smiled to himself. Saber, he felt certain, was about to discover that all women were not alike—that there existed a few who could resist his blandishments. Not that Saber appeared to be exerting himself to charm the chit, but he seemed to take pleasure in baiting her, something Lafitte had never seen before. It was all very interesting, especially in light of their earlier conversation. Could it be, he speculated, that at last Saber had been snared by the oldest trap of all? That this slender boyish female had slipped under his guard? If it were so, it was obvious that neither of the two principals were aware of it.
Next to making money, Lafitte loved romance best, and the thought of his cold-hearted friend caught in the throes of unrequited love made him smile. With a twinkle in his eyes Lafitte asked, "Do you intend to retire early, mon ami? I had thought we might play a hand or two of piquet. Of course"—smiling widely—"I will understand if you no longer find that plan agreeable."
Saber shot him a lazy look and shook his head. "That sounds fine. Just as soon as I get Nick settled, I'll join you in the library."
"How remiss of me! But yes, we must see to her comfort. I shall make arrangements at once."
Saber waved aside Lafitte's offer to ring for a servant and marched Nicole out of the room and up the wide, sweeping staircase. Pushing her down a large carpeted hall, he escorted her to the suite of rooms Lafitte had set aside for his use.
Shutting the door firmly behind him, he surveyed Nicole's angry face with displeasure, and it occurred to her suddenly that in spite of his baiting tone and his easy manner, he was in a rage, an icy rage that was all the more frightening for its lack of fire. But Nicole was not easily frightened and glaring at him she snapped, "Don't let me detain you. I'm sure Lafitte is eager for your company." Disdainfully she turned her back on him, only to feel his hand hard on her shoulder as he spun her around to face him. No longer was his face bland and amused— his jaw was taut, his mouth thinned into a hard line, and his eyes as cold as frozen gold. His words, when they came, were like knives. "Lafitte can wait! You and I have something to settle between us first. You were, if I remember correctly, to remain at the plantation. I think I should remind you that I don't give orders merely to hear the sound of my voice. Just because you've become my mistress does not alter the fact that when I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done. Do you understand me?" He shook her slightly as he said the last.
"I understand, you—you shark's belly!" she retorted angrily. Stabbing a finger at him, she snapped, "You're the one who doesn't understand! I'm not a piece of booty you've captured and I will not be your mistress-—or anything else!" Furiously she attempted to shrug off his hold, but his hands tightened until she thought her bones would snap.
Holding her temper in check with more patience than she knew she possessed, she demanded coldly, "Release me! You've already cracked my wrist, do you intend to break my shoulder as well?"
His hands loosened a fraction but he did not release her entirely. "Don't tempt me, little vixen! In the mood I'm in right now I could easily break every bone in your body, and what's more I'd enjoy doing it!"
"If you feel that way, why keep me prisoner?" she shot back hotly.
An ugly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he jerked her next to his lean body. Crushed to him, Nicole could feel him rigid with desire and thought that he meant to take her again, this instant. Protesting, she arched herself away, but his hands slid down to cup her buttocks, pulling her to his hips. Thrusting himself against her, making her unavoidably conscious that he was hard with wanting, he snarled softly, "That is why I keep you."
Shaken, more so than she could remember, she couldn't help crying, "Have you no mercy? No feeling for another person? Have you forgotten whatever morals you possess?" It was foolish, she knew, but the words were torn from her and she waited, her eyes dark, and bright with unshed tears.
He regarded her for a moment between slitted lids, and then he said icily, "I have no morals! I want you, Nicole, and nothing on this green earth will stop me from taking you as often as I please. Do not waste my time with pleas of mercy or tears. Pleas annoy me and tears bore me. If you will remember this conversation in the future, it will save you a great deal of anguish and heartburning. Be comforted by the knowledge that when I tire of you, I shall do well by you."
Dully she asked, "And if you never tire of me?"
Suddenly real amusement leaped to his eyes. Laughing, he taunted, "You flatter yourself, Nick. There's not a woman alive who would satisfy me for long, and remember, Nick... you are not in my preferred style!"
CHAPTER 13
The room was like a tomb after Saber's departure.
For several seconds Nicole just stood and stared like one in a nightmare at the shut door. He couldn't have uttered those ugly words, she thought numbly. Then a shudder shook her body. Yes, he could. He could say them and, worse, mean them. Dispiritedly she walked over to a satin-hung bed and threw herself facedown on it. For a long, long time, she just lay there, not wanting to think, yet unable to escape her thoughts.
If only there were some way to turn back the time, she thought wistfully. But then she shrugged. Saber had known she was female, and even if she had never tried to steal those code books with Allen, Allen would have been captured and she suspected that last night still would have found her in Saber's bed . . . willing or not. Saber had cleverly seized upon her rash bargain for his own use, and she had been fool enough to think him willing to strike a trade. But he had gulled her so easily that her stomach churned with embarrassment every time she thought of it. For a few fleeting seconds her mind dwelt lovingly on the picture of Saber reduced to crawling adoration, while she scornfully trod on his innermost emotions.
The idea had been at first merely a pleasant daydream of revenge, but frowning in sudden concentration, she began to pursue it in earnest. If she were to make herself so necessary to his needs that he could not do without her, might not their roles be reversed? And if she were artful enough to snare whatever tender feelings he possessed, wouldn't the balance of power fall into her own hands? Wouldn't Saber be willing, even eager, to please her? To do anything she wished? Such as free Allen . . . or, and her eyes glittered with animation, oust the Markhams from her estates in England!
How did one set out to enslave a man? She had watched, though not closely, several women w
ork their charms on Saber, but to no avail. He played with them, manipulated them to his purpose, and then forgot them. Frowning, she tried to remember if there had been any who had held his interest, which told her one thing—her task wasn't going to be easy!
Her advantage over the others lay in the fact that she was not enamored of him, regardless of the physical fire between them, and that she was bent on using him in the same fashion he had used others. She also realized that part of her own allure for him was indisputably her professed dislike and defiance.
The thought of pitting herself against Saber, of beating him at his own game, restored Nicole's volatile spirit. Half-formed plans spinning in her brain, she paced the room until that first flush of excitement died, leaving her suddenly aware that the hour was late and that she was very sleepy. She eyed the bed uncertainly, not particularly pleased at the thought of Saber returning and finding her asleep. Yet at the same time she was enchanted with the idea that he would find it extremely disconcerting if, expecting a raging virago, he found instead a woman so indifferent to him that she could without a qualm calmly go to sleep! Grinning to herself she stripped and crawled under the blanket. As she drifted off to sleep it occurred to her that her unexpected arrival was bound to cause some change in Saber's plans; she hoped disagreeable ones for him.
Actually her arrival caused Saber little inconvenience, although he would have preferred not to have presented her to Lafitte. But that aside, her presence hardly changed his plans at all. He had intended to return to Thibodaux House in the morning, and that still held true, except now he would have Nick's glowering company on the trip back.
Returning to the library and ignoring the obvious curiosity in Lafitte's eyes, Saber helped himself to a glass of fine French brandy. Settling his long length comfortably in a chair, Saber proceeded to act just as if nothing had happened, and the two men spent the remainder of the evening just as planned originally, playing piquet, smoking cigars, and drinking contraband brandy. If Jean had expected Saber to cut the evening short he was disappointed. Saber stayed until the hour was well past midnight, discussing everything but the woman upstairs.
When it became obvious that Saber was not going to mention Nicole, Lafitte yawned and got to his feet. "Mon ami, are you ready to retire, as I am? Or is your silence because your thoughts are with the girl upstairs?"
Annoyed that he had allowed his thoughts to wander, Saber answered sharply, "If you wish to seek out your bed, do so. Don't let me keep you."
Wearing a pained expression, Lafitte remarked, "Truly it must be time for us to go to bed. You are becoming positively vile or," his eyes glittering with bright laughter, he added slyly, "is it that you are having troubles with amour?"
Giving a sigh of exasperation, Saber rose from his chair. "Amour!" He pronounced it as though it were a curse. "You damned French are always prattling on about it. That chit upstairs is nothing out of the ordinary. She means not a bit more than a half dozen others I could name." With less than his usual mocking manner he bid Lafitte a cool bonne nuit and strode down the hall to his room.
The darkness in the room surprised him—as did the sight of Nick asleep. The longer he stared at her, the angrier he became. By God! he thought furiously. She had more brass than a gypsy peddler.
As if aware of his presence, Nicole stirred, and opening her eyes, she met his golden stare with a shock that was almost physical. Quelling the instinctive urge to recoil at the sight of his black-bearded face looming above her, she remained motionless, her features, she hoped, betraying nothing. For several seconds their gazes locked, neither being able to look away. Then, his eyes still on her, he reached out and with slow deliberation removed the blankets covering her body. She made no move to stop him, and even when his hand lightly fondled one breast, the thumb brushing her nipple with insistent pressure, she lay motionless, silently fighting the sudden hot longing within herself.
She had told herself that when next they met she would give in to this . . . this . . . compulsion to have him make love to her, and yet, now that the moment was upon her, she found herself resisting the dictates of her own body. Helplessly she felt her nipple hardening beneath his hand and was ashamed at its betrayal. But her body had a different will, a different thought than the one her mind commanded. A warm, melting sensation was struggling in her loins, and with feverish determination her eyes clung to his, despising the cool, unmoved expression in their yellow-gold depths. She sensed he was holding himself back, toying with her as though she were of no real interest to him.
She truly hated him in that instant, hated him for the power he seemed to wield over her defenseless body. She wanted him in spite of all that had gone before, yet she was furious that he could gaze at her nakedness, caress her, and remain unmoved while she was being devoured by her own desires.
With his eyes still on hers, he left off fondling her breast and with agonizing deliberation trailed his hand down the narrow ribcage to her waist. Almost playfully, his fingers walked to her navel, and then his hand, spread wide, suddenly swept down her stomach. A faint tight grin, almost tigerish, curved his mouth as Nicole gave a gasp of half terror and half anticipation.
She couldn't help the increased thump of her heart, and she was sick, knowing her eyes were giving her away while still, damn him, he seemed unmoved. She tried desperately to maintain her composure, but there were a dozen signs that gave her away; her eyes were dilated and dark with passion, and her nipples rigid with desire.
It was a duel between them—she fighting to remain cool and frigid, and he deliberately arousing her and willing her to respond as he remained aloof and uninvolved himself.
Huskily she spat, "I hate you, Saber!" But he gave no sign he even heard her words. Giddily she wondered if he was somehow punishing her for last night. Then coherent thought fled as his fingers, no longer teasing her stomach, opened her and found her. The shock of that gentle caress shot through her entire body and built in intensity as he continued his movements. She fought the feeling as long as she could; then with an anguished moan she twisted away from him.
She lay half on her side, half on her stomach, her arms clasped over her breasts. She tried to capture a dozen fleeing thoughts and emotions as a tight, almost painful ache between her legs clamored for relief.
His face was no longer blank, and a thin film of sweat on his forehead betrayed his own fight for control. Saber stripped with ferocious speed, and before Nicole had time to recover her shattered wits, his hard body was pressed against her back. His breath was soft and warm on her ear, and she felt his body mold itself to hers as they lay there together on their sides. It seemed they touched the entire length—his chest against her slender spine, her buttocks curving into his stomach, and his legs following the position of hers. She started to jerk away but one sinewy arm came down in front of her and he whispered, "Last night was unfortunate and I intend to change that —right now. Let me, Nick, help me—let me love you."
She barely heard him, for already his hand had momentarily cupped one breast before it slid down between her legs once more. She was aware, yet unaware, of things besides the fire that was raging in her loins—his other arm sliding beneath her hips, his own rapid breathing as he felt her melt against him, giving herself up to him, and the warm pulsating length of him riding gently between her thighs. He did not enter her at once but again with his hand explored and deliberately gave her her first taste of sexual completeness. She knew that she cried out, as with his hand between her legs, he took her to the peak, but her emotions were spinning beyond her control and nothing mattered at that instant but that the feeling go on. It did. She had barely drifted back to sanity when he, still lying on his side, thrust himself gently within her, his body driving deep into the welcoming softness, his hands holding her tight against him. Like a dying fire leaping to renewed life, she felt her entire body respond to his and hungrily, unaware that she did so, she curved her body to make his possession easier, arching herself back against him.
When the end came, this time it was as if every nerve in her body exploded with pleasure.
Panting, still in a daze, her eyes wide with the shock of it, she lay there hardly conscious of him beside her and slowly, very slowly, awareness came creeping back. She knew now irrevocably why those other women so shamelessly pursued him, and she would have given everything not to.
Reluctantly she rolled over to face him. He was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, watching her. For a long minute she stared at him and wondered how she could hate him and yet have her entire body turn to a quivering mass of yearning at the thought of his kisses. In a small, defiant voice she said, "I still hate you!"
Unbelievably he smiled, not the reckless, half-mocking expression she knew so well, but a rueful, almost tender smile. Softly he replied, "Do you know that's exactly what I thought you would say? You might hate me, Nick, but your body doesn't."
He turned onto his side, so that their faces were only inches apart. Gently his hand traveled down the center of her body and stopped when it encountered the dark triangle between her legs. She stiffened desperately, ignoring the sudden, unexpected leap of longing within her stomach.
"See," he laughed low, uncannily aware of her response. "I could make you want me again, despite what you say you feel for me." Roughly his mouth covered hers, giving her no chance to reply. It was like no other kiss he had ever given her. It was soft, yet compelling, warm and deep. Lifting his head, he looked down at her and whispered, his voice already thickening with passion, "Shall I, Nick? Shall I show you?"
Dumbly she shook her head, her eyes fixed painfully on his. There was no need, she thought unhappily, to prove what they both knew so well.
At her negative shake Saber sighed, moving away from her with reluctance, but he made no effort to change her mind. Instead, startling her just a little, he gathered her unresisting body next to his, brushed a faint kiss across her forehead, and murmured, "Go to sleep, Nick. We have a long day tomorrow."