Silver Splendor (28 page)

Her dainty brows drew into a frown. “But someone’s been trying to kill me. Who? Who was that awful man peering in the window at me?”

“A hired minion, no doubt.” Nicholas tensed with anger. “If only I’d caught him, I would have found out who’s paying him, you can be sure of that.”

“But why would anyone want me dead?”

“Both of the duke’s sons died in childhood. That makes you his only surviving offspring. Should he choose to acknowledge your relationship, you stand to inherit a great deal of wealth.”

“But I’m only his bastard.”

Her voice was low and raw with pain. Helpless to soothe her distress, Nicholas burrowed his fingers into her hair. “It’s not uncommon for a man to endow a child born out of wedlock.”

She shook her head, the cloud of coal black hair brushing the back of his hand. “I would never ask this duke for anything. I’ve always made my own way in the world.”

“It isn’t a question of asking. He may decide to recognize you in his will regardless of your wishes.”

“But I don’t want him to — especially not if his present heirs would murder me over the matter.” Determination firmed her chin. “I shall inform the duke that I will refuse any inheritance. Then they’ll leave me in peace.”

Tender humor flooded Nicholas. “You really are that maverick camellia bloom,” he murmured, inable to resist sliding his hand down to the swell of her hip. “You never react the way you’re supposed to.”

Elizabeth went taut in his arms. A parade of emotions flitted across her features: dismay, longing, remorse. “Oh, Nicholas,” she said on a sigh. “I wish I could be the lady you want me to be, but I wonder if you and I will ever find a common ground.”

His amusement evaporated. “Don’t say that.”

He spoke gruffly, unwilling to believe her, unwilling to imagine a future without her. He was intensely aware of the closeness of their bodies and the rising heat of his desire. His hand rubbed circles at the base of her spine. Her lashes dipped slightly as she relaxed against him. She was slender and soft, very much a woman. It had been madness to hold her in his lap. Madness to invite her into his room, when the quiet night bestowed them with time and opportunity. And yet… her upturned face invited his kiss, a kiss he wanted with savage desperation.

A flood tide of desire swept away his scruples; the knot of emotion inside him loosened. He kissed her with all the raw passion churning in his heart and burning in his loins. She quivered, her body yielding, arching to him. Her fervid response was both knowing and naive. Demanding more, his mouth slanted over hers, delving deeper, bending her against his arm.

He shaped his hand to the curve of her breast; her softness filled his palm to perfection. His thumb circled the peak, its arousal apparent despite the sheltering cambric robe. Her purr of delight brought a surge or exultation to him. He wanted to please her, to make this kiss a mere prelude, to release all the powerful emotions wracking his body. Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes, searching for doubt, for some sign of reluctance. He saw only an open ardor, a willing warmth.

Yet he could not forget that Elizabeth had no room in her life for his child. The knowledge cut deeply into him; resolutely he buried the pain. If he were a discreet and careful lover, pregnancy need not compromise her plans.

“I want you, Elizabeth,” he said quietly. “I want to make love to you. Now.”

His declaration ignited a flame of joy inside Elizabeth. Could it be true Nicholas felt the same as she? She longed to believe him and yet…

Unsteadily she said, “You told me once that you had too much honor to take advantage of my innocence.”

“And you told me to be honest about my feelings.” Lifting her hand, he kissed the delicate skin of her wrist, then the work-roughened calluses of her fingers. “I’m doing that now, Elizabeth.” His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “I love you.”

Sincerity blazed in his eyes; no longer did he wear an expression of cool composure. Her ravaged spirit felt whole again, restored and ready to give. Words seemed inadequate to express her feelings; she wanted to tender her body into his skilled hands and her heart into his cherished keeping.

“Nicholas, I love you, too. Without you I feel incomplete.”

His arms tightened convulsively; then he reached around to her nape to unclasp the sterling chain, letting the ring fall with a metallic clatter onto a side table. “We shan’t have this between us.” He parted her wrapper and began to unbutton her nightdress. “Tonight you’ll wear nothing at all.”

The erotic promise made Elizabeth quake. She, too, wanted to forget the past, to forget everything but this precious night. In the shadows cast by the gas lamp his hair looked almost black, yet his eyes gleamed like sterling silver. Lowering her gaze, she watched him work at the row of tiny buttons. He muttered a curse as the last one snagged in the fine lace. The cambric whispered as he drew back the folds of cloth, exposing her breasts to the cool air.

Wrapped in the seductive quiet and the intensity of his eyes, she sat still in his lap, her heart tripping, her desire mounting. Then the heat of his hand covered her breast. Pleasure lapped within her as she saw the duskiness of his skin against her milky paleness, felt the texture of his palm graze her soft rounded flesh. His head descended, his mouth closing over her breast, his tongue washing the nipple. The voluptuous sensation astounded her. Uttering a low velvety sound deep in her throat, she arched to him and twined her fingers in the dense dark strands of his hair.

His hand dipped past the cloth bunched about her rib cage, seeking the flare of her hips, the beauty of her thighs. His lips still provoking her breast, he glided his fingers over her robe clad abdomen, settling possessively at the valley between her legs. A delicious urgency unfurled within her; Elizabeth moved restlessly, impatient for something she sensed only he could give her.

Grasping her waist, he swung her onto her feet. The gaslight etched stark shadows across the perfection of his face.

“Nicholas…?” she said in a confused protest.

“Patience, love,” came his soft reply, his eyes equally soft. “I want to look at you.”

His hand gave a swift tug; her nightdress and wrapper dropped to the floor, baring her body. A shocking thrill flashed through Elizabeth. She held her breath as his warm hands surged up, thumbs turned inward to graze the globes of her breasts, before moving downward again, passing over her waist to brush the silken black tuft above her thighs. His eyes followed the same path, lingered a long moment, then lifted to her face.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Nicholas drew her onto his lap again, anointing her face with kisses. “Let me make you mine… it’ll be perfect, I promise you that.”

Sighing in satisfaction, Elizabeth snuggled her cheek against his lapel. “How could anything be more perfect than this?”

A chuckle vibrated in his chest. “My sweet little artist, I intend to show you things you could never learn from one of your anatomy books.”

His mouth subjected her to a lengthy, luxurious kiss that left her giddy, delirious for more. She slipped her palms inside his dressing gown. How broad his shoulders were, how solid and smooth. His skin felt warm and alive, contoured by hard muscles and crisp hair.

His hand skimmed over her breasts on a slow descent to her belly, then moved in maddening circles over her hips and legs. When his touch drifted to the soft fleece between her legs, a pulsing grew within her body, a quivering expectation. His eyes smoldering, Nicholas smiled at her in the instant before his finger slid into her sleek satin depths.

His hand began a rhythmic stroking that made her muscles contract. She drew in a sharp breath, tilting her head back against his arm as she abandoned herself to the irresistible pull of excitement. In all her artistic study of the body, she had never dreamed a man’s touch could create such compelling sensations, that she could feel so drugged with passion. His mouth adored her temples, her throat, her breasts as the lazy, measured movements of his fingers drove her wild. Panting whimpers clogged her throat. She writhed in his lap, unable to get enough, unable to satisfy the ache leaping inside her.

Frantic for something she could not define, she heard his low urgent voice caressing her like rough velvet. “Give yourself to me, Elizabeth… give me everything… I want you… I love you.”

Hot chills wracked her limbs; blissful spasms flooded her belly. She cried out his name, her entire being focused on the rapturous waves breaking within her. The shuddering delight slowly ebbed, leaving her limp and stunned. When she lifted her lashes, Nicholas was gazing down at her, his eyes aglow, his mouth tilted into a crooked smile.

“I’m glad you liked that,” he said, his usual clipped speech blurred and raspy. “Because there’s more to come.”

Feeling the tension in his enfolding arms, seeing the rapid rise and fall of his chest, Elizabeth felt a blush sear her cheeks. Of course, his own passion must still be unslaked. In her utter naivete, she had succumbed to the exquisite joy and neglected to give him any in return.

“I… I’m sorry, Nicholas,” she said, sitting straight in his lap and laying a hand on his cheek in apology. “I didn’t mean to be so selfish, so —”

His kiss silenced her. Her head swam and her heart soared. Against her lips, he murmured, “I wanted you to be selfish, Elizabeth. I take pleasure in your pleasure.”

His words touched a place deep inside her. Pressing her palms to his chest, she said, “I want to give to you as you’ve given to me.”

His smile deepened. “Then move your hands a bit lower, love.”

Elizabeth willingly obeyed, her palms coasting downward over hot skin sheened with sweat. The barrier of his sash halted her descent; her fingers fumbled with the tie and parted the garment. With the appreciation of an artist and the admiration of a woman, she let her gaze wander over his shoulders and chest. Nicholas was a model of masculinity… perfection of form, symmetry of shape.

She shifted on his steely thighs to give herself room to trace the tapering leanness of his waist, the flat muscles of his abdomen, the center ribbon of hair that led downward to his groin. She halted there, her eyes widening. His male part was full and erect, magnificent beyond any she had glimpsed in a textbook or classroom.

Consumed with curiosity, she tentatively touched him; the heat and hardness startled her, making her snatch back her hand. Her pulse surged and her gaze leapt to his face. “You’re so large.”

His husky chuckle warmed her. “Only because I want you so very much.”

Her loosened mass of hair brushed her shoulders as Elizabeth’s eyes were inexorably drawn downward. Entranced, she curled her fingers around him; he more than filled her hand. Experimentally she stroked him as he had stroked her.

He sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back against the chair, exposing the strong column of his throat. “Ah… Elizabeth…”

His voice was hoarse and his fingers pressed into her thigh. His ardent response told her more than words could ever express, that the powerful Earl of Hawkesford had placed himself, body and soul, into her hands. He wanted her, needed her, loved her. In a glorious rush, tenderness flowed into her heart and desire into her loins. Still caressing him, she kissed the damp warm skin of his chest.

Abruptly he snared her wrist in his long fingers. She saw him take a deep breath, felt his muscles strain, as if he were striving to regain control. “I do believe,” he said unsteadily, “that it’s time we moved to the bed.”

Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the four poster and laid her down on the cool coverlet. She had a dizzying glimpse of a massive headboard and sapphire satin hangings, then her gaze focused on Nicholas removing his burgundy robe. Gaslight bathed his body, naked as Adam in paradise, all sculpted male grace and hot blatant need.

Bending over her, he tucked the dressing gown beneath her. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He brushed a kiss against her shoulder. “A woman bleeds a little her first time. I’ll not have the housemaids speculating that you shared my bed.”

Elizabeth felt both pleased by his protectiveness and exasperated by his misplaced sense of propriety. “I don’t care who knows. I’m not ashamed of our love.”

“Neither am I,” he growled. “Yet I’ll not hear your good name bandied about.”

She meant to voice the hurtful notion that sprang into her mind, to ask if he meant to cloak their relationship in secrecy. But his body came down on hers and all lucid thought spun away. The weight of him felt solid and right. His smooth hard flesh slid over her, his furred chest deliriously abrading her nipples, the heavy heat of his maleness pressing into her thigh.

Lowering his head, he suckled her breast. The erotic ache he had assuaged earlier built with irreversible force. Her breath emerged in quick puffs as she ran her hands down his muscled arms and across his back. Their lips met in a long impassioned kiss, a kiss that tasted of brandy and Nicholas and wonders to come. She arched her hips, seeking, to ease the sweet agony inside her.

His leg nudged her thighs wider. Feeling the hot tip of him probing her softness, she strained upward and felt the plunging pressure of his entry and a burning flash of pain. Her muscles stiffened in reflex; she uttered a cry more of surprise than discomfort.

Nicholas went still, his breathing swift and harsh in her ear. “Forgive me,” he muttered, stroking her hair. “I didn’t mean to be so rough… I’ve wanted you for so long…too long.”

Her throat tightened. The feel of him embedded within her body made the vestiges of pain dissolve into a wondrous sensation of fullness. “I’ve longed for this, too,” she said softly. “To be in your arms, sharing your bed, receiving your love.”

Her words washed over Nicholas in a warm wave. Easing more deeply into her, he gazed down at her, watching for a sign of pain. Her face was flushed and radiant. Her body enclosed him like a satiny fist, unbelievably perfect and supremely right. As he moved slowly within her, her eyes grew slumbrous, her lips parted, her fingers splayed over his back.