Nicole Jordan (32 page)

The constricted feeling in his chest grew as the night wore on. Harry could be anywhere—abducted and forced into labor onboard a ship, or apprenticed as a pickpocket or a ragged chimney sweep, or taken into one of the sporting houses whose clientele craved the tender flesh of young boys, or lying in a dark alley, carved up for fishbait.

Or he might be miles away, having set out in a different direction entirely, Nicholas reminded himself. He’d only been relying on gut instinct when he began the search here. Although his gut was rarely wrong, he could have been mistaken. If so, then Harry could pay a costly price….

He set his jaw and continued the search. There was no way in hell he would return to face Aurora without finding the boy.

It was nearing the darkest hours of night when he met up with two of his men as they exited a tavern.

“No luck, guv’nor,” one of them confided. “There’s nary a sign of the young toff.”

“Keep looking,” Nick commanded. “When you reach the end of the quay, start boarding vessels and questioning the crews. We won’t stop until we find him.”

He had started to turn away when he heard a sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Devil…”

The raw whisper came from behind a stack of crates, but it wasn’t an oath or an invocation of Satan, Nicholas realized. It was a plea for “Deverill,” his assumed name.

Giving a low shout to alert his men, he threaded his way through the maze of crates. His heart went cold when he saw the pale shape huddled on the ground.

“Harry?” Nicholas said urgently, kneeling beside him.

The boy groaned and lifted his head. In the darkness, Nicholas could just make out his gold hair.

Nearly naked, he was clutching his stomach and shivering in the damp night air. Stripped of his clothing, he wore only his underdrawers, which stank of urine, no doubt because he had wet himself out of fear.

“Where are you hurt?” Nicholas asked, gently probing the boy’s face and limbs.

“My…belly. They hit me….”

Nicholas could feel no blood, but Harry’s ribs were tender, as evidenced by his sharp winces. Nick suspected, however, that they were only bruised, not broken.

“You’ll live,” he said tersely, hiding his sympathy. “Tell me what happened.”

Haltingly Harry’s story came tumbling out: how he had made his way here shortly before dark, how he’d been chased off a brigantine he tried to board, then set upon by a gang of young pickpockets. He seemed most ashamed of his fear.

“I was so afraid,” he mumbled, his voice ending in a whisper.

Nicholas didn’t mince words. “You damn well should have been afraid. You’re fortunate you were only bruised and battered. You could have been gutted and left to die.”

“I prayed you would come.”

“Count yourself lucky that I don’t wring your neck. You frightened Lady Aurora witless.”

“I…I am sorry. Will you tell her for me?”

“You’ll tell her yourself—in the morning. For now, let’s see what we can do to get you cleaned up.”

Bending, he lifted the boy carefully in his arms. “I’ll take you to my ship first,” Nicholas added, rising. “I don’t dare present you to her looking like this.”

When he had Harry safely on board the
Talon
, however, Nicholas changed his mind about taking the boy home to Aurora. Harry was exhausted, as well as bruised and battered, but even more than rest, he needed a lesson about the harsh realities of life to underscore the one he’d learned tonight about the dangers.

When the boy was cleaned up and sound asleep in the first mate’s bunk, Nicholas retreated to his own cabin, where he composed a message for Aurora. The note was brief, saying simply that Harry was safe and essentially unharmed, but that he would remain on the schooner for a time, to be taught a lesson.

That would undoubtedly rouse her protective instincts, Nick knew, and bring her running. Yet for what he wished to say to her, he needed privacy, which her house with its loyal staff of servants couldn’t offer. He sent the message by three of his roughest crew members, trusting that they could protect her when she journeyed to the docks.

His plan worked as expected. In less than an hour, before dawn had even begun to appear, Nicholas heard the clatter of carriage wheels on cobblestone.

Standing at the foredeck railing, he watched as Aurora swiftly descended from the carriage and hurried toward the ship’s gangway. He could feel the powerful thudding of his heart, knowing the next few moments could change his life forever.

When she reached the top of the gangway, he moved to help her step onto the deck, grasping her elbow for support.

“What have you done with Harry?” she demanded even before she was on board, her voice hoarse with strain. “Did you hurt him?”

“No, of course I didn’t hurt him. He’s sound asleep.”

Abruptly she pulled away from Nick’s grasp. Her gaze riveted on his face, fear and anger evident on her beautiful features in the lantern light. “What did you mean, you want to teach him a lesson?” she said in a fierce undertone. “He should be safe at home in bed.”

“He is safe, Aurora.”

“You said you intend to keep him on board your ship—”

“Let’s not argue here,” Nicholas replied warningly, gesturing with his head toward his crewmen, who were climbing the ladder after her.

With a visible effort to control her agitation, she allowed him to lead her. Taking up a lantern, he escorted her belowdeck to the mate’s cabin. Quietly opening the door, he stepped aside to allow her entrance.

Harry was curled up in the bunk, fast asleep. Aurora approached him cautiously, afraid of what she would find. The pitiful sight was even more shocking than she anticipated. In the dim glow of lantern light, she could see his battered face—the bruise forming under one eye, the split lip….

A sob caught in her throat, while a surge of nausea rose up to choke her; she had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle it.

This was what violence had done to him, she thought despairingly, fighting the storm of fury and helplessness that raged inside her. Yet Harry was alive, that was what mattered most. She had not been able to protect him, but he was
alive
.

Needing that reassurance, she reached down to touch his face. The boy stirred in his sleep, but didn’t awaken. She drew a shuddering breath.

“Come,” Nicholas murmured softly behind her. “He needs to rest after his ordeal.”

Reluctant to leave, she tenderly brushed a disheveled lock of hair from the boy’s forehead, then forced herself to turn away. After the strain and terror of the past hours, she suddenly felt drained, empty.

She hardly noticed where Nicholas was taking her, but found herself in a small but well-appointed cabin. She didn’t resist when he led her to the bunk and pressed her to sit down.

He went straight to a cabinet and poured her a finger of brandy, then returned to her.

“Here, drink,” he said, holding the glass to her lips.

The potent liquor burned like fire. Aurora shuddered as she swallowed, then pushed it away. Bending her head, she covered her face with her hands.

“I told you he was safe,” Nicholas finally said.

Her shoulders quivered with involuntary trembles. “I know. I was just so afraid….”

“You didn’t truly think I would harm him?”

Mutely, Aurora shook her head. She knew Nicholas wouldn’t hurt even a strand of Harry’s blond hair, yet he was the worst kind of influence on an impressionable boy….

“You said you meant to teach him a lesson,” she said, her muffled reply more a question than accusation.

“I do. In the morning I intend to put him to work swabbing decks and checking rigging.”

“Why?”

“Because he needs to learn just how difficult life at sea can be.”

Lifting her head, she stared at him. “Harry cannot possibly become a sailor, Nicholas. It is too dangerous. By keeping him on your ship, you will only be abetting his ambition—”

“It is far more dangerous to leave him to strike out on his own.” Putting down the brandy glass, Nicholas sat beside her on the bunk. “The boy has a fever, Aurora. A burning desire that won’t be quenched. Believe me, I know. I was just like him when I was that age. Perhaps it’s hard for you to understand since you’ve never experienced anything like it, but Harry will have to pursue his ambition until either it burns out or it’s satisfied. Either way, you cannot cure his fever by sheltering him from life. He will only resent you for it—the way he now resents his mother. The way I did my father.”

“But I am responsible for him.”

“And certainly you want to protect him. But he needs the guidance of a man, Aurora. I can give him that.”

“He doesn’t need the kind of guidance you could provide. You will only teach him violence. I abhor violence, Nicholas. After seeing all the terrible things my father did—”

“I have no intention of teaching Harry to be violent, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Only to stand up for himself.” When she was silent, Nicholas added more forcefully, “You cannot keep him wrapped in cotton wool forever, Aurora. Certainly not by keeping him imprisoned in the safe little sanctuary you’ve built for yourself.”

Her throat tightening in despair, she looked away. “But…he is just a boy. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him and I was to blame.”

“Then you should allow me to determine the safest way for him to explore his ambition.”

When she wouldn’t reply, Nicholas tilted her face back to his with a light touch of his fingers. “You said you trusted me.”

She returned his gaze helplessly. His eyes were deep and quiet and searching, the strong planes of his face intent.

Aurora swallowed convulsively as pain congealed in her chest like a deep bruise. “I do trust you,” she whispered.

His face softened, while his thumb brushed her lower lip with a featherlight pressure. At his gentleness, she blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. Crying never solved anything. Tears were useless in stopping the pain.

And yet she couldn’t help herself. A sob escaped her, followed by another. And suddenly she couldn’t stop.

When she felt Nicholas’s arms come around her, she turned her face to his shoulder and wept as all the tension of the past day—indeed, all the dark emotions of the past year, fear, grief, loss—came pouring out.

Her body shook in racking sobs while the tears came. Nicholas simply held her, cradling her trembling body in his arms.

When finally her tears subsided, Aurora realized she was lying on the bunk with him, her head pressed into the curve of his neck. His hand gently stroked her hair as she clung to him, and she could feel the night stubble on his jaw grazing the softer skin of her cheek.

Eventually she took a deep, quavering breath. “I am sorry…” she murmured, her voice husky from crying.

“Don’t be.” His lips brushed against her temple. “Here.” He drew a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe away the dampness from her face.

Aurora lay unresisting for his ministrations, like a child. She hadn’t the energy or the will to move.

“You were right,” she murmured. “I am a coward.”

“No,” Nicholas replied softly. “But you’ve let fear rule you for too long.”

She sighed when his warm lips touched her eyelids. She wanted to lie like this forever, safe in Nicholas’s arms, pressed against his hardness, his warmth, sheltered and protected and cherished.

The intimacy of their embrace, however, had a starkly different effect on Nick. When Aurora nestled closer, he went still, his heartbeat quickening and deepening. Awareness of her flooded his senses, while a wave of longing hit him, colliding with the breath he was trying to take.

He wanted to comfort her. Wanted to ease her fear, her sadness, to erase that anguish and despair from her beautiful face. But even more, he wanted
her
.

Almost involuntarily, his lips began moving upon her flushed face, savoring the velvety texture of her soft skin. When she stirred against him, an ache started deep in his groin like a lick of fire.

Nicholas drew a steadying breath, struggling for control as hunger shuddered through his body. How had it happened, this deep and powerful need of her? He couldn’t deny it any longer….

Urgently he molded her soft lips to fit his, desire flaring through his senses as he took her mouth. She gave a soft murmur of protest at his sudden move, yet he kept up his tender assault and felt a surge of triumph when her mouth turned hot and pliant under his.

Then suddenly she drew back, her palms pressing against his chest. Her breath came in soft pants as she regarded him, her blue eyes wide with dismay.

Nicholas drew a sharp breath, struggling to check his savage need. She wanted him, he knew. When he touched her throat, he could feel the wildness of her pulse.

“I intend to make love to you, Aurora,” he warned hoarsely, his voice raw with desire. “If you want me to stop, then tell me now.”

He lay still, waiting, drawn as tight as a bowstring. His loins were full and aching for her, his heartbeat like an anvil in his chest. Yet it had to be her decision this time.

Aurora stared into his eyes, drowning in the sheer intensity of the dark depths. She didn’t want his lovemaking, his passion, and yet she couldn’t fight his tenderness, the stirring kisses that were so sweet and so fierce. She no longer had any defenses against him.

Mutely she shook her head, knowing the sweet torment of defeat. A desperate longing welled up within her, the need to touch him, to feel him deep inside her.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered. Reaching up, her fingers curled in the waving thickness of his silky hair.

“Please,” she added helplessly. “Make love to me, Nicholas.”

Chapter Eighteen

He undressed her slowly, wanting her with a need so powerful it made him shake. She was still shy about her body, and he ached with the effort to be gentle.