Nicole Jordan (45 page)

They calmed slowly, small aftershocks of sensation rippling along nerve endings and prolonging the pleasure. Drowsy, sated with rapture, they held each other, limbs entwined.

“My life,” Nicholas whispered against her temple, echoing her own thoughts. “My very soul.”

Her heart unbearably full, Aurora sighed with contentment. Love had demanded an irrevocable choice from her, but she had absolutely no regrets. This sense of rightness between them was undeniable. They were fated to be together.

She pressed her face into the warm flesh of her husband’s shoulder, thinking of Desiree’s journal.
The heart will know its one true mate.

It was true, Aurora reflected. Nicholas was her mate, now and forever. He had ignited her heart’s hidden passion and brought her joy beyond imagining. He was her one true love, and she could not ask for more.

By Nicole Jordan
Published by Ivy Books:

THE SEDUCTION

THE PASSION

O
f their own volition, her fingers moved from his shoulders to curl in the wavy silkiness of his hair. His mouth was a searing flame that stole her breath. Helplessly, Aurora pressed closer to him, longing for something she couldn’t name.

She felt boneless, on fire…. She felt as if she were falling….

It was only Nicholas, nudging her onto her back on the soft mattress.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him. She was trembling, her cheeks hotly flushed, her senses spinning.

His eyes watched her as his hand moved to the empire-waist bodice of her gown; she felt herself drowning in their shadowed depths. When his fingers curled over the low décolletage, she tensed, but he bent to her again, his mouth hovering just above hers, heating her lips. “Don’t be afraid to feel, angel. Tonight, just let your senses rule….”

Read on for a sneak peek at
The Enchantment,
another sizzling romance from
Nicole Jordan
available at your local bookstore.

Cornwall, England; November 1813.

Her gown fell to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her completely nude. Lucian drew a sharp breath at the alluring sight—her exquisite white body tinged golden in the flickering dance of candlelight, her radiant hair glowing like fire.

Was she bent on seduction…or betrayal?

Whatever her scheme, Lucian had to admit it was highly effective. Already he was hard enough to burst. Yet his every instinct remained alert to danger.

He forced a smile, his gaze roaming over the taut nipples, the luscious thighs parted slightly in sensual invitation. “Is this a seduction, my love?”

Her own smile was provocative. “Merely a welcome. I am glad you have come.”

A lie, he knew.

For a long moment he met her emerald eyes. Was that guilt he saw there in the jeweled depths?

Time stretched between them as Lucian stared searchingly at his beautiful wife. At length the soft hiss and crackle of the fire in the hearth broke the spell.

With a graceful shrug of her naked shoulders, she went to the mahogany side table, where a tray bearing a crystal wine decanter and goblets rested. When she had poured two glasses, she crossed the bedchamber to him and offered him one.

The wine was blood red. Was it poisoned, or merely drugged? She’d had time to prepare either, even though he had startled her by unexpectedly following her here to the Cornish coast from London.

He took a sip, pretending to drink, and noted that she looked relieved.

She was too transparent, Lucian thought grimly, fighting the lure of her nude body and the heat rising in him. Her nervousness gave her away. She was an amateur at intrigue—unlike him. He had matched wits against the best spies France had to offer. Against Britain’s worst traitors as well.

Even as he stared at her, she averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes any longer. His mouth thinned. Would Brynn betray him? Was his beautiful bride in league with his enemies? Had she committed treason with her damned brother, aiding the Frogs and their bloody Corsican leader, Napoleon Bonaparte?

The thought caused such an ache in his heart that he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“Is the wine to your taste?” she murmured, sipping from her own glass.

“Yes. But then the French do make the finest wines.”

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked, keeping any inflection from his voice.

“I hoped you would warm me.”

She glanced up at him, temptation in her eyes. The impact sent savage heat flooding his loins. He could recall not too many weeks ago when he would have given a large part of his fortune to have an invitation like this.

“Why don’t you stir the fire,” he forced himself to say, “while I close the draperies?”

Tearing his gaze from her lush nudity, Lucian turned and went to one of the windows. Under pretense of shutting the drapes, he tilted his glass behind a table, letting wine trickle onto the carpet. With all his soul he wanted to believe Brynn innocent. Yet he didn’t dare trust her.

He could feel her gaze probing between his shoulder blades from across the room. Swearing silently, Lucian moved on to the next window. He was clearly a fool. He was obsessed with his own wife. With her vibrant beauty, her fiery hair, her defiant spirit. She was a temptress who made him ache with desire. The only woman he’d ever met who could drive him so wild that he lost control.

He would lose her forever if he sent her to prison.

Deliberately spilling more of the wine behind an armchair, he closed the drapery and moved on to the final window, where he stood pretending to drink from his glass. Outside a chill sliver of moon hung low on the black horizon partly obscured by ghostly, scudding clouds. An icy wind blew off the sea; he could hear waves beating the wave-swept, rocky shore below.

A good night for treason.

Inside, however, the bedchamber was warm and hushed. Lucian sensed Brynn before he heard her soft footfall when she came up behind him.

“Are you still angry with me?” she whispered in that low, sultry voice that could tie him in knots.

Yes, he was angry with her. Angry, heartsick, regretful. He had never met a woman who could bring him to his knees…until Brynn.

He snapped the drapes shut.

Composing his features into a mask, he turned slowly to face her. Her gaze, he noticed, went immediately to his glass which was now only one-third full. The sensual smile she gave in response ripped at him, but Lucian made himself remain still. He would play her game, would see how far she intended to take her betrayal.

Her finger dipped into his wine, then rose to glide along his lower lip. “How can I assuage your anger, Lucian?”

“I think you know, love.”

Her own lips were red and moist with wine, and he fought the urge to crush his mouth down on hers. He forced himself to remain immobile, even when she slowly, provocatively, slid her fingers into the waistband of his breeches.

When he gave no response, she relieved him of his wineglass and set it down along with her own. Then she began to undo the buttons at the front of his breeches.

His heart was thudding in his chest when she drew open the fabric to expose the stiff erection that stirred so eagerly between his thighs. With a tempting smile, she closed her caressing fingers around the base of his pulsing arousal and sank down to kneel at his feet.

A muscle flexed in his jaw as he grimly struggled against the sensual ache she incited in him. While her fingers stroked, she leaned closer to press her lips along his throbbing shaft. Lucian jerked when she kissed him there. Her lips were warm on his flesh. His skin felt hot, seared by the erotic touch of her mouth as she softly ran her tongue around the bulbous head, the sensitive ridge below…

He felt her lips close around his length to take him fully in her mouth. Lucian gave a grimace of pleasure, fighting for control. His now rigid member thickened still more as she explored him with her mouth and tongue, tasting the slick, swollen contours.

Desperately he tried to keep his mind divorced from his senses as she made love to the most intimate part of him. He had been the one to teach her this—how to use her lips and tongue to such devastating effect. He had shown her pleasures of the flesh, led her to embrace her woman’s passion.

He should be pleased that she was willingly taking the lead. Since their first meeting she had fought him. For the three months of their stormy marriage, they had been locked in a contest of wills.

Lucian shuddered. Her mouth was a firebrand, her teeth softly raking.

She was wrong about his feelings for her. He wanted her for more than a broodmare or a convenient lover. Perhaps it had begun that way, but now…Now he wanted to possess her completely. And yet she seemed more unattainable than ever. She was his wife in name and body, but he could not claim her heart.

He groaned at the thought, and at her exquisite ministrations.

“Am I paining you?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Dire pain.” A pain that was more than physical.

“Should I stop?”

“No, witch.”

Involuntarily, his hands curled in her flaming hair. He felt her moist lips sliding down his aching shaft, and he strained against her mouth, even as his mind battled to resist her spell.

Nothing in their marriage had gone as planned. Admittedly he was mainly to blame for the inital contention between them. He had made countless mistakes with Brynn. Compelling her to wed him against her will. Treating her with uninitentional coldness, keeping himself remote.

With supreme arrogance, he had expected her to fall at his feet, for his wealth and title if not his charm and looks. When she resisted, he had vowed to tame her and make her his own. Against her fervent wishes he had demanded she share his bed and bear him an heir.

It should have been a fair exchange—a noble marriage for a son. He had wanted a child of his own flesh, some part of him to leave behind were he to die.

He felt as if he were dying now. His hand clenched in her hair as hunger poured in hot waves through his body.

He was as captivated now as ever. Sweet hell, from the first
moment
he had been smitten with her. She had tried to warn him how it would be between them, but he hadn’t listened. Instead, his heart had stubbornly refused to abandon its infatuation, his enchantment growing into a dangerous obsession.

Brynn knew it, and she was using it against him now.

He had few defenses against her. The more determined he was to deny his passion, the more fiercly his need grew to possess her, until he was willing to do almost anything, pay any price, simply for one of her luxuriant smiles.

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut. Was he actually considering betraying his country to save her? Sacrificing his honor, everything he believed in?

Damn you, Brynn.

He was shaking. He clutched at her shoulders and could feel her shudder with pleasure herself. Gazing down into her passion-hazed eyes, he could see she was nearly as aroused as he. Perhaps she only intended to seduce him, but her desire was real.

That knowledge shredded the last of his control. Urgently, Lucian drew her to her feet and lifted her up, his mouth feverishly capturing hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Carrying her to the bed, he lowered her to the silk sheets and followed her down, pressing himself between her welcoming thighs.

For a moment, then, he hesitated. Her face was so incredibly beautiful in the flickering candlelight. He curved his hand to her throat, wishing he could draw the truth from her. Wishing he could see into her heart and mind.

“Please…I want you, Lucian,” she whispered hoarsely.

And I’ll want you till I die,
he thought as he entered her.

She was wet and eager for him. She wrapped her supple legs around his waist, clutching him to her as he thrust into her, driving his engorged manhood deep within her hot, pulsing flesh.

Lucian shuddered, needing her more than he needed air.

How had it come to this? If he had known their marriage would lead to this day, would he still have forced Brynn to wed him? Would he have made the same mistakes?

What had she been thinking that day three months ago when he had encountered her in the secluded cove alone? Could he have changed the outcome had he behaved differently toward her?

Had she known then what would happen between them? Was she plotting treason even then?

He groaned, spilling his seed deep within her body.

If he only knew…

SEPTEMBER MOON

Patrick O’Reilly loves life in the wilderness. All he needs is his land, his work, and the company of the children he adores. The last thing he wants is the prim and proper Englishwoman, Amanda Davenport, who arrives to care for his unruly children, yet he finds himself inexplicably drawn to this proud woman and the fire he knows exists beneath her refined exterior…