Nicole Jordan (19 page)

“My business here isn’t yet concluded,” Nicholas replied—not really a lie; Aurora
was
his business. He started to tie his costume’s sash around his waist, but changed his mind. “I will, however, leave my sash and saber in your keeping. A pirate wandering the streets might arouse suspicion.”

“It might indeed,” Aurora replied with a renewed tartness. “You are bound to be discovered if you insist on this mad impersonation.”

He flashed her a bold grin and finished dressing. When he had flung his cloak around his shoulders, tying the cords loosely at his throat, she was still regarding him with disapproval.

Nicholas hesitated. This was the first time in his life he could remember leaving a woman’s bed without first finding satisfaction—or fully giving it. And this woman was his
wife
. With her sleep-tousled hair and passion-bruised lips, Aurora was so beautiful it made him ache.

He couldn’t help himself. Returning to the bed, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard.

“Nicholas!” she exclaimed breathlessly, drawing back. “You promised you would leave!”

“Lower your voice, love, or the servants will hear,” he warned. “That was only a farewell kiss. It might be days before we even speak again.”

He picked up the journal and tucked it inside the pocket of his cloak. Going to the window then, he eased himself up to sit on the sill and swung his legs over.

With one last, lingering look, he disappeared.

Aurora fell back on the bed, relief flooding her, her heart still beating violently from his kiss, her body throbbing with the restless yearning he’d kindled in her.

It frightened her, the tumult of emotions Nicholas aroused in her so effortlessly: exasperation, anger, exhilaration, desire…

He was not the kind of man for which a woman could hope to maintain indifference. He was unpredictable, bold, threatening. The kind of man who would overwhelm a woman with passion, with desire, with need. Who would command her heart as well as her body.

He demanded my surrender, body and soul.

Aurora shuddered, remembering the passage from the journal that so perfectly described the danger the Frenchwoman had been forced to face. Desiree had become a captive in more than physical terms; against her will she had lost her heart to her strong, vital, compelling prince.

Nicholas was just as compelling, just as dangerous as the journal’s prince. His touch as sensual and magical.

Aurora’s hand rose to her breast, the burning memory of his caresses still vivid in her mind. She was so very vulnerable to him. As her husband, Nicholas had the right to such intimacies, and more. Yet she didn’t dare give him any further chance to take the brazen liberties he had last night. She couldn’t afford even to allow him near her. She could no longer trust him. More damning, she could no longer trust herself.

When they had wed, she’d thought Nicholas an honorable man, but he obviously had no qualms about subterfuge or deception—evidenced by his previous ruse where he’d fabricated his burial, or his current fraud, assuming his cousin’s identity. And he had stolen into her room and conducted an intimate, sensual assault on her while she slept….

A traitorous heat flushed her body at the remembrance, along with renewed anger at his gall.

She had countless reasons to be angry with Nicholas. Not only did he lack scruples, not only was he recklessly endangering his life and courting scandal, but he was acting as if he owned her—and using threats and extortion to gain his way.

Having lived with her father’s black temper for so long, she
deplored
such violent emotions as anger, but in Nicholas’s case, she welcomed it, indeed wanted to nurture it. As long as she could sustain that dark sentiment, she could hold any softer feelings for him at bay.

At least she had persuaded him to give up claiming her as his wife. Yet she couldn’t congratulate herself. Even though he’d agreed they would maintain separate lives, she was certain she hadn’t seen the last of Nicholas Sabine.

The hour was still early when Nicholas reached the mews near Lady Dalrymple’s house, where the cream of Mayfair’s pleasure and carriage horses were stabled. The cobblestone yard of the livery was bustling—lads grooming and saddling mounts and ostlers harnessing curricles for morning jaunts.

Nick had arranged to meet his sister there, but while he saw no sign of Raven, he soon caught sight of the Irish stablehand who had accompanied her from the Caribbean. O’Malley was leading out a large ebony Thoroughbred and a stockier groom’s mount, both saddled for riding.

Intent on testing his disguise, Nicholas paused beside the Irishman. “I would like to hire an equipage for a few weeks,” he remarked casually, “and perhaps a hack as well. Can you direct me to the proprietor?”

O’Malley, a hulking, gray-haired brute of a fellow, gave Nicholas a cursory glance. Evidently seeing a gentleman, he tipped his hat politely. “You’ll be wanting Mr. Dobbs in that case, sir. You’ll find him in the office at the end of the next aisle.”

“Thank you.” Nicholas hesitated, studying the black horse. “Magnificent animal. Your mistress always did have an eye for good horseflesh.”

His gray head snapping up, O’Malley stared at him hard. “ ’Tis a ghost I’m seeing, I’ll be thinking,” he said slowly.

Nick’s mouth crooked in a smile. “No ghost, O’Malley. I bear a resemblance to a certain American pirate who wasn’t hanged after all.”

The look of amazement on his ruddy face turned to one of delight. “Well, I’ll be a bleedin’—” He broke off with a sheepish grin. “Beg pardon, guv’nor. I never would have known you with your hair so dark.”

“That is precisely my intention,” Nicholas said. “I am here in England as Sabine’s cousin from Boston, Mr. Brandon Deverill. I calculate that if I can slip by you with your keen eye, I should be able to fool anyone else who might have an acquaintance with me.”

“Ah…I see. If you say so, sir. Does Miss Raven know the happy news?”

“I surprised her last night at her aunt’s ball, but we had only a moment together. She’s to meet me here shortly so we can have the chance to speak alone.”

Always a clever man, O’Malley understood at once the need for discretion. “I’ll be taking Satan back to his stall then, if it pleases you, sir. You can talk there, like you’re looking him over for purchase.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the horse, who was standing docilely and mouthing the bit. “Satan?”

“He’s a handful, aye, but for Miss Raven, he’s a lamb. He belongs to Lady Aurora.” At Nick’s skeptical look, the Irishman grinned. “ ’Tis true. Her ladyship prefers a bit of the devil in her horseflesh, too. And she’s as fine a horsewoman as I’ve ever seen.”

Nicholas digested that statement with surprise: the compliment was high praise coming from a man like O’Malley, who had practically been born on horseback.

“Lady Aurora,” O’Malley added, “chose this fellow for Miss Raven when her aunt wanted to mount her on a plodder. Satan right snorted fire when she first tried him, but you know her. Never was a horse Miss Raven couldn’t tame. The London gentlemen are the same way.”

“So I understand,” Nicholas said with wry amusement.

“ ’Tis working just the way she planned—and the way her guardian, Mr. Sabine, wanted.”

“Thank you for watching over her so well, O’Malley. I’m certain you have Sabine’s undying gratitude.”

The Irishman gave a hearty laugh. “Well, you should know, you being his cousin and all. If you’ll please to come with me, sir…” He tugged on his cap again and led the horses back to their stalls.

O’Malley made Raven an estimable protector, Nicholas reflected as he followed. His fears regarding her welfare had diminished greatly after seeing how ably the Irishman and Aurora were caring for her.

Raven made an appearance in only a few moments. A trifle breathless, she entered the stall and, without pausing, threw her arms around Nick’s neck in a strangling hug.

“No need to choke me, pet,” he said, laughing as he pried himself from her grasp.

“It is either that or shoot you,” Raven retorted. When she drew back, however, her blue eyes were sparkling. “You
do
deserve to be shot, Nicholas. You have no conception of how I grieved for you—and Aurora, too. I’ve lived with such guilt, believing I got you killed. Why did you never send us word?”

“I was a trifle occupied at the time, getting out of the fix the British navy had devised for me and then preparing to come after you. And I felt sure you would have learned the news from someone on the islands.”

“We never did, Nicholas.”

He shook his head warningly. “I’ll thank you to practice calling me Mr. Deverill in private, sweetheart, so you won’t forget in public. Since Sabine was your guardian, his cousin would be only distantly connected to you.”

“Ah, yes, I will have to remember.”

“In fact, we should not be seen together in private at all.”

A frown creasing her brow, she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder. O’Malley had taken up a position outside the stall’s half door along with his mount, screening her and Nicholas from prying eyes.

“I sent my maid home just now,” Raven said in a concerned voice, “so she wouldn’t see me talking to you, but I didn’t consider the danger to you…. It is quite dangerous for you even to be in England, isn’t it?”

“There is the possibility that I might be apprehended as an escaped prisoner, yes.”

“Why ever did you come here then?”

“I wanted to see how my hoyden of a sister fared, of course,” Nicholas said teasingly. He surveyed her stylish riding habit of forest green velvet critically. With her vivacity and fresh beauty, Raven didn’t look as if she’d risen unfashionably early after dancing half the night away. “From all appearances, you are doing quite well for yourself.”

Her smile was wry. “Better than well. You would be proud of me, Nick…ah, Mr. Deverill. I recall you once said teaching me to behave with decorum would be like trying to turn a wild filly into a lady’s mount. Well, I am quite tame now. Of course, a good deal of the credit goes to Aurora.”

“Indeed?”

“I don’t know what I would have done without her, truly. She is extremely accomplished and so highly regarded…. You couldn’t have chosen anyone better to advise me. With her guidance, I’ve been able to face society’s lions without being devoured alive. And if I am not betrothed by the end of the Season to an earl at the very least, I shall be very disappointed.”

His amused expression sobered. “You’re certain you can be happy with a cold-blooded marriage to an earl?”

Raven’s blue eyes turned just as sober. “My happiness is beside the point. Mama wished me to make an advantageous match and marry into the nobility, and I won’t fail her, Nicholas. As for cold-blooded, you know I have never wanted love. I won’t make the same mistake Mama made, letting passion destroy my life, pining after a man even on my deathbed. And besides, being the mistress of my own household will be far preferable to living under my Aunt Dalrymple’s thumb, where I cannot say two words without being reprimanded.”

The stubborn set of her jaw gave way to a smile. “Thank heavens for Aurora. She has been so genuinely kind, and she shares my love of horses. I’m to meet her in the park for a gallop in a short while…. But enough about me, Nicholas. Tell me, how did Aurora take the news of your reincarnation?”

“She wasn’t quite as delighted as you were,” he said dryly.

“Only because she doesn’t know you well enough yet.” Raven’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, my word, do you mean to take her back to America with you as your bride?”

Nicholas hesitated. “We haven’t worked out our future yet. I imagine Aurora needs time simply to get over her shock at my reappearance.”

“But you mean to claim her?”

“That is still in question,” he admitted, not wanting to sound overconfident in his powers of persuasion.

“Your marriage was legal, was it not?”

“Entirely. But the issue is more complex than mere legality. Our marriage was supposed to be only temporary. I’m not certain Aurora wants me for a lifetime—or that she thinks I would make very good husband material. I’m known far more for my wild adventures than my stable respectability.”

“Yes, but I remember you saying it was nearing time for you to settle down as your father wished. And I think any woman would be fortunate to have you for a husband,” Raven declared loyally.

“But then you are prejudiced on my behalf, puss.”

“I suppose.” She frowned. “Well, you will simply have to persuade her. It shouldn’t be impossible. Aurora is quite independent minded, but no one has more ruthless charm than you do. You managed to convince me to forgive my English relatives for the horrible way they treated Mama, when that was the last thing I wanted.”

“We’ll see,” Nicholas said noncommittally.

“I do hope…well, I would like to see Aurora happy. I’m certain she is lonely, being confined to her house for days on end due to her mourning. Your presence here will at least offer her a diversion. How long do you plan to stay?”

“I haven’t yet decided. A few weeks, perhaps. The news of my escape will reach England sooner or later, and with a price on my head, the risk of discovery will be greater.” His sister’s expression grew concerned, but he forestalled her comment. “You had best be off on your ride, Miss Kendrick, before we invite comment.”

Raven nodded reluctantly. “Where can I find you if I should need to speak to you?”

“I intend to take rooms at the Clarendon.”

She kissed his cheek, then gave him a saucy smile as she accepted the Thoroughbred’s reins to lead it from the stall. “Perhaps I will see you in the park some morning, Mr.
Deverill
.”

Nicholas found himself smiling fondly as he watched her leave. When he was alone, however, his smile faded. As was her nature, Raven had gone straight to the heart of the matter: whether or not he and Aurora intended to acknowledge their marriage.

For a moment he wondered if he should reconsider his plan to claim her as his wife. He wanted Aurora physically; there was no longer the slightest doubt in his mind. Kissing her this morning had been as stunningly sensual as four months ago, when he’d taken her luscious, virginal body in their marriage bed. The hunger he’d felt for her then hadn’t diminished in the least; if anything, the craving was stronger.