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“Not yet,” he said against the nape of her neck, his teeth closing on the delicate softness.
Her body contracted around him in the first spasm of release. “Oh—”
“Wait,” he whispered, slowing the rhythm, making her cry out in frustration. He kept her at the edge of the precipice for agonizing minutes, knowing her well, controlling the rising sensation until he owned her body and soul…and only then did he drive deeply into her center, making the feeling spill in a bountiful flood, sex and sensation and love blending into intoxicating pleasure.
Afterward she turned over to press against him, burying her hot face in his chest. She had never felt so close to him. For a few blinding moments they had found a place outside of time, a state of perfect understanding and bliss. A trace of it lingered even now, and she knew what Luke was going to say even before he spoke.
“You're a strong-willed woman, Tasia…and today I realized that I want no less than that. I'm glad you're not afraid of me. You're willing to stand your ground, and I don't want to change that. I had no reason to forbid you to visit Angelovsky. The truth is, I was jealous.” Luke stroked her hair. “Sometimes I want to hide you away from the world and keep you all to myself. I want all your attention, your time, your love—”
“But you have all those things,” she said softly. “Given willingly and without measure. Not because you own me, but because I choose to.”
“I know.” He sighed deeply. “I was unreasonable, and selfish, and I'm not proud of it—”
“But you'll try to do better,” Tasia prompted.
“I'll try,” he said wryly.
She laughed and slid her arms around his neck. “Our life together is never going to be smooth, is it?”
“Apparently not.” He slid his palm over her round stomach. “But I'm enjoying every minute of it.”
“So am I,” she said. “I never dreamed I would be this happy.”
“There's more to come,” he whispered against her lips. “Just wait and see.”
T
he bitter November wind chilled Luke to the bone as he rode the short distance between the railroad offices and his villa on the Thames. In hindsight, he should have taken a carriage, but the day had turned out much colder than expected. Dismounting from his horse, he gave the reins to a waiting footman and bounded up the front steps. The butler opened the door and took his coat and hat.
Luke shivered at the pleasant warmth of the house. “Do you know where Lady Stokehurst is?”
“Lady Stokehurst and Miss Emma are in the parlor with Prince Nikolas, sir.”
Luke blinked in surprise. Nikolas had never come to visit before. It was one thing to tolerate Tasia's sickroom visits with her exiled cousin, but quite another to welcome him into their own house as a guest. Setting his jaw, Luke went to the parlor.
As he approached, the sound of his footsteps must have alerted Emma, who appeared in front of him with an air of explosive excitement. “Papa, the most
extraordinary
thing has happened! Nikolas came to visit, and he brought a gift for me!”
“What kind of gift?” Luke asked darkly, following her into the parlor.
“A sick kitten. His poor little paws are infected. The man who owned him had his claws pulled out, and now the kitten is so weak with fever that we're not certain he'll live. We've been trying to coax him to drink some milk. If he pulls through, Papa, may I keep him? Please?”
“I don't see why a kitten should be any trouble—” Luke stopped short as he took in the scene before him.
Tasia was crouched on the floor next to a striped bundle of orange, black, and white. It was about the size of a small dog. Underneath Luke's incredulous gaze, the “kitten” tottered on bandaged paws to a dish of milk and began to lap it tentatively. A pair of house maids were gathered at the other side of the room, viewing the animal with apprehension. “They eats people, don't they?” one of the maids asked in concern.
It was a tiger cub, Luke realized. Probably the Siberian variety that grew to the size of a horse. Blankly he looked from Emma's hopeful face to Tasia's apologetic one…and finally to Nikolas Angelovsky, who was seated on the settee.
It was the first time Luke had seen Nikolas since he had been in Russia. Angelovsky looked as before, except much thinner, the edges of his cheeks and nose as sharp as knifeblades. His golden skin had faded to an unhealthy pallor. His piercing yellow eyes were as startling as ever, and his smile held the same mocking curve. “
Zdráhstvuyti
,” he said softly.
Luke couldn't keep a scowl of dislike from his face. “Angelovsky,” he muttered. “I would appreciate it if you refrained from bestowing any further ‘gifts’ on my family. You've done quite enough for the Stokehursts.”
Nikolas's smile didn't falter. “I had no choice but to bring the kitten to my cousin Emma, the patroness of injured animals.”
Luke glanced at his daughter, who was crouched over the wobbly bundle of stripes like a worried mother. Angelovsky had chosen his gift well. No other gesture could have so effectively softened Emma's heart. “Look at him, Papa,” Emma said, while the cub made contented gurgling and puffing noises in between slurps of milk. “He's very small…He won't take up much room at all!”
“He'll grow,” Luke replied ominously. “Eventually to forty stone or more.”
“Really?” Emma gave the cub a dubious glance. “That much?”
“There is no way in hell we're going to keep a tiger!” Luke divided his glare between Nikolas and his wife. “Someone had better think of a way to dispose of it, or I will.”
Tasia interceded with gentle diplomacy, hurrying to him with a swish of silken skirts, laying a light hand on his arm. “Luke,” she murmured, “I would have a word with you in private.” Glancing at Nikolas, she added, “I'm certain you need more rest, Nikolas. You wouldn't want to ruin your recuperation by overtaxing yourself.”
“Perhaps I should leave,” Nikolas agreed, rising from the settee.
“I'll see you out,” Emma said, draping the tiger cub over her shoulder, where he lay in limp contentment.
After the pair left the room, Tasia stood on her toes to whisper in Luke's ear. “Please…it would make her so happy to keep him.”
“We're talking about a
tiger
, for God's sake.” Luke pulled his head back and frowned at her. “I don't like to come home in the afternoon and find the likes of Angelovsky sitting in my parlor.”
“It was a complete surprise,” Tasia said contritely. “I certainly couldn't turn Nikolas away at the doorstep.”
“I won't allow him to worm his way into our lives.”
“Of course not,” Tasia said, walking with him into the hallway. “This visit was just Nikolas's way of making peace. I don't believe he means to harm any of us.”
“I don't have your forgiving nature,” Luke muttered. “As far as I'm concerned, he's not welcome here.”
Tasia was about to argue when she happened to glance at the entrance hall. Emma was standing with Nikolas, looking up at him as she cuddled the tiger against her shoulder. Nikolas reached to stroke the cub's round head. As he did so, his fingers gently rubbed a lock of Emma's shining red hair. The gesture was brief, almost unnoticeable, but it sent a chill of warning down Tasia's spine. She had a sudden premonition of Nikolas with an older Emma…staring at her with a seductive smile, leading her step by step into a fathomless shadow…until they had both disappeared from the light.
Did it mean that Emma might someday be in danger from Nikolas? Tasia's brow wrinkled, and she wondered if she should tell Luke of her vision. No, she didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. Together they would take care of Emma and protect her. Nothing would threaten them now that they were a family.
“Perhaps you're right,” she said to Luke, squeezing his arm. “I'll find a way to make Nikolas understand that he mustn't visit often.”
“Good,” he said in satisfaction. “Now about that cub—”
“Come with me,” she coaxed, urging him to the dimly lit space beneath the grand staircase. Together they drew into the private corner.
Luke began again. “About the tiger—”
“Come closer.” She pulled his cool hand to the velvet-covered slope of her breast. Automatically his fingers slid over the plump mound, finding the downy warmth of her cleavage. Tasia sighed with pleasure. She pressed her body, lush with pregnancy, against the length of his. “You left before I work this morning,” she murmured. “I missed you.”
“Tasia—”
She pulled his head down and nipped his neck with her teeth. Blindly Luke turned and found her mouth. The kiss deepened, and he felt the warmth of it spread through his body. As always, he was aroused by her nearness, his blood stirring rapidly at the feel and taste of her. Tasia's small hand covered his, and she pressed it inside her bodice, underneath the velvet, until his palm fitted over her peaked nipple. He kissed her once more, and Tasia responded with avid pleasure, molding herself against him. “You smell like winter,” she whispered.
Luke shivered as he felt her lips brush against the side of his neck. “It's cold outside.”
“Take me upstairs and I'll warm you.”
“But about the tiger…”
“Later,” she said, loosening the knot of his cravat. “For now, take me to bed.”
Luke raised his head and gave her a sardonic glance. “I know when I'm being manipulated.”
“You're not being manipulated,” she assured him. She pulled his cravat free and dropped it to the floor. “You're being seduced. Stop trying to resist.”
The prospect of being in bed with her, holding her body against his, was too much for Luke. As long as he lived, there would be no temptation, no pleasure, no passion more intense than what he felt with her. Carefully he lifted her in his arms. “Who's resisting?” he muttered, and carried her up to bed.
Lisa Kleypas
is the author of nineteen historical romance novels that have been published in twelve languages. In 1985, she was named Miss Massachusetts and competed in the Miss America pageant in Atlantic City. After graduating from Wellesley College with a political science degree, she published her first novel at age twenty-one.
Her books have appeared on bestseller lists such as the
New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly,
and
WaldenBooks
. Lisa is married and has two children.
Please visit her at www. lisakleypas.com.
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S
ECRETS OF A
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Front cover art by Fredericka Ribes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
MIDNIGHT ANGEL
. Copyright © 1995 by Lisa Kleypas. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
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Microsoft Reader October 2004 ISBN 0-06-079196-9
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