Stolen Love (27 page)

"I'm yours, Nicholas."

Under the covers his hand moved slowly up her leg to her stomach, then over to her hip. "Your skin is so soft, Elizabeth," he whispered. "I cannot get enough of the feel of you." She said nothing, only tried to regulate her breathing as his hand continued to move over her. He curled an arm around her neck and pulled her head to his. "I ought to go," he said when he released her after a kiss that left her stomach feeling dizzy.

"I know." She sat up, and he pushed the covers off his legs, then stretched. He was lean, with long hard legs and slim hips. His abdomen was flat, and she could have traced the outline of muscles under the smooth skin of his chest.

He watched her watching him, his black eyes calm, interested. "What are you thinking?" he asked when she reached to trail a hand down the middle of his chest.

"Are you mine, Nicholas?" she whispered.

"You know I am," he said softly.

She leaned forward to kiss his chest. "I wanted to make you stay, before. No matter what."

His fingers touched her cheek. "I thought I was the only one consumed by desire." He smiled.

"Oh, no." She kissed his chest, letting the tip of her tongue slide along his skin. He sighed and leaned back, propping himself up with his arms. She drew her fingers over his skin, testing the shape of his muscles, letting her mouth follow her hand. He groaned and did not resist when she pushed him down until he was supine. His fingers came up to tangle in her hair when she began kissing him where the ridges of his belly started.

Was it dangerous, she wondered, to feel as though nothing else mattered but making him want her? His skin was cool, firm. His eyes began to close as she caressed the hard muscles of his thigh. She wanted just to look at him, but the dizziness starting again in her stomach made that impossible. It was warm where their skin touched, hot where she kissed him to taste the slight saltiness of him.

"Come here, you!" He pulled her on top of him, and then Elizabeth groaned herself as he brought her up high enough to enter her. He held her hips, guiding them both, whispering to her how and where he longed to touch her, how he longed to have her touch him. She saw the desire in the curve of his mouth, in his parted lips. His hands on her were warm and solid. His movements inside her made her stomach tighten, made her being flame into a desire so strong she wanted to weep with it, weep with happiness that it was Nicholas who held her, who was making her cry out. It was every bit as overwhelming as it had been before. She was lost in his caresses, abandoned to their passion.

"It has never been so exquisite before," she heard him say. She looked into the black of his eyes and saw that it was true. His mouth took hers, kissing her even more fiercely, his fingers pressing into her shoulders, holding her to him. She wasn't able to think of anything but him and how incredible it was that it should be so. He was calling her name, and she held him when the sweeping rise of their passion took her away from everything but them.

They lay quietly, his fingers gently stroking her back. She was still holding him, lips so close to his shoulder she could have kissed him had she not been so deliciously tired.

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M
rs. Villines was always awake early when she visited the country, and her stay at Witchford Runs was no exception. She lay in bed for a while, thinking about Nicholas's incomprehensible behavior and worrying about Elizabeth. She had for so long assumed that Nicholas and Elizabeth would marry that she had done little to let him know her wishes in the matter. Now it seemed unlikely there would be any marriage. Nicholas had been doing his utmost to make it seem he was captivated by Amelia. She did not believe he was in love with Amelia, but even if it were true, it was no excuse for his treatment of Elizabeth.

Mrs. Villines sighed. Elizabeth was going to leave Witchford Runs—if she were in Elizabeth's place, she would do the same. One day Nicholas would learn what a tragic mistake he had made, and it would be too late. No one, absolutely no one, except Elizabeth Willard was right for Nicholas. She threw the covers aside and got out of bed.

It was a quarter past eight when Mrs. Villines knocked on the door to Elizabeth's room. When there was no answer to a second knock, she tried the door, wondering if Elizabeth might really be ill. It was unlocked; so she stepped inside. She saw Elizabeth's dressing gown lying on the floor, and she walked across the room to pick it up. She must have been terribly upset last night, Mrs. Villines thought when she saw another heap of clothing a few feet away. She shook her head and picked them up, too, then examined them with a puzzled expression on her face. A man's coat and waistcoat, watch chain dangling from it, a cravat on the floor a little farther off. She turned and saw yet more clothing on the floor by the bed.

A gentleman's clothing might be here because Elizabeth was mending them, though it was difficult to explain why they were so haphazardly thrown about. But even if she were to believe that Elizabeth had thrown the clothes about in a fit of anger, there was no comforting explanation for the presence of a gentleman's shoes.

Still holding the clothes, Mrs. Villines walked to the bed, quietly because the drawn canopy meant Elizabeth was still sleeping, and bent to pick up one of the garments by the bed. She stared at what she held in her hand: her nephew's trousers. She recognized his tailor's label. She opened the canopy just a fraction of an inch.

"Dear God, Nicholas!" She almost dropped the clothes, she was so startled when she saw him. He was startled himself, but he got out of the bed quickly, pulling the canopy closed behind him. Mrs. Villines caught only a glimpse of Elizabeth, who was fast asleep, but it was enough to notice that she did not appear to be wearing any more clothing than Nicholas.

"May I have my trousers, Aunt Winifred?" Nicholas asked softly.

Mrs. Villines was completely unable to summon coherent thoughts, let alone words. She held out his trousers, averting her eyes from the sight of her nephew's nakedness. When he had taken them from her, she quickly turned her back. "Nicholas," she said in a whisper, "what in heaven's name are you doing in here?"

"You may turn around now," he said. "I should think that must be rather obvious." He was looking down to fasten the buttons of his trousers. "A better question," he went on, "might be, how could I have neglected to bolt the door?" He extended a bare arm to take his shirt from her.

"Nicholas!" Aghast, she followed him to the far side of the room.

"Well, it is a rather obvious precaution." He turned to face her, waiting for her to hand him the rest of his clothes.

"Surely you don't mean that you've… that this isn't the first time you and Elizabeth… ?" She could not finish the thought. "Oh, dear God!"

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, it is the first time." He put on his shirt and coat, not bothering with any of the rest.

"Nicholas, what could you have been thinking of? This is disastrous!"

"Of course it's a disaster!" His voice rose. "It's the worst thing that could possibly have happened!"

"We will need to discuss plans for your wedding, Nicholas. After you've… arranged yourself more decently, wait for me in the main drawing room." She stood still while he tucked his watch safely into a pocket, then walked into the hall with him, putting a restraining hand on him when the door was shut behind them. "Elizabeth will make you happy, if only you let her, Nicholas," she said softly.

"Aunt Winifred, I know that," he answered.

She watched him walk down the hall to his room before going back inside to talk to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was standing in the middle of the room just fastening her dressing gown when Mrs. Villines closed the door behind her.

"Well, Elizabeth, we must talk."

"What about?" She lifted her chin. She was pale, but her gaze was defiant.

"I presume you know I found Nicholas in here?"

"Of course."

"What happened?"

She looked stubbornly at the floor.

"Did he force you?"

"Certainly not!"

Mrs. Villines did not know what to make of Elizabeth's expression. "You will be married, of course."

"I think not."

"Good heavens, of course you will." She approached Elizabeth and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Nicholas will do the right thing by you, of that I can assure you. He must marry you."

"Well, I do not have to marry him."

"Elizabeth, my dear, what if there is a child?"

She blanched. "Then I'll go away," she said. "You heard him. He does not want to marry me. You may tell him I have averted his disaster," she snapped, "for I refuse to marry him."

"Elizabeth!"

"I am leaving for London today, Mrs. Villines."

"My dear, think about what you are saying!"

Elizabeth frowned and walked to the window. She pulled open the curtains and stood looking out. "There's nothing to think about, Mrs. Villines. My mind is made up."

"It does not appear I can persuade you to change it."

"No, you cannot."

She shook her head even though Elizabeth could not see her. "You haven't any choice, I'm afraid."

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"W
ell, Nicholas, have you anything to say?" Mrs. Villines sat down and looked at her nephew sternly.

He returned her level gaze as if he thought there were nothing extraordinary about their conversation. "I did as you advised me, Aunt Winifred." His hair, still damp from his hurried bath, was beginning to curl around his forehead.

"I hardly advised you to conduct yourself so improperly."

"I know." He sighed and sat back in his chair. "I never intended for things to go as far as they did."

"You had no business being in Elizabeth's room at all."

"Maybe not, but I assure you, I had the best of intentions."

"I have already seen how good your intentions were, Nicholas."

"I went to her last night to apologize and ask her to marry me."

"And did you?"

"Yes. And she accepted me. Grandfather approves, you know. We spoke about it last night."

"There is some consolation in that, I suppose."

"Naturally, under the circumstances, a long engagement is out of the question." He leaned forward. "I do want to marry Elizabeth, Aunt Winifred, only I did not think it would be so soon." He sighed again, putting his elbow on his knee and propping up his head in one hand. "I should like us to be married on the thirty-first," he said, looking at her.

"If only Elizabeth would agree."

He sat up. "What do you mean? Does she want to be married even sooner than that?"

"She does not want to be married at all."

"What!" He looked at his aunt skeptically. "That's ridiculous."

"She insists she is going back to London today. And
I
cannot persuade her otherwise."

"You are mistaken."

She put a hand on his arm. "Elizabeth overheard us, Nicholas, and she is hurt by what you said. She does not believe you want to marry her."

"But I did not mean it. She ought to know that."

They both stood up when the door opened. "Here you are, dear boy!" said Lord Eversleigh. "Are you aware that Miss Elizabeth Willard has asked to be driven to the station this morning? She's in her room packing this very moment." He took in Nicholas's expression, then looked quizzically at Mrs. Villines. "What in the devil is going on?" he demanded.

"Please, come in, Eversleigh."

"Has something happened?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"Elizabeth refuses to marry Nicholas."

"Indeed?" He looked at Nicholas after Mrs. Villines sat down. "This is disappointing news. Did she give any reason for her refusal?"

"Last night she accepted me."

There was a pause, then: "You must not have been persuasive, if she's changed her mind already."

"My lord," Mrs. Villines broke in, "let there be no misunderstanding. Last night, Nicholas was far too persuasive!"

"What do you mean? Explain yourself, Winifred." He looked to his daughter-in-law for the explanation.

"She means, sir, that when she went to Elizabeth's room this morning, I was still there."

Lord Eversleigh's eyebrows lifted. "Still there?" he echoed. "Indeed?"

"I asked her to marry me last night, and she accepted. We agreed to a long engagement, which, as you know, was entirely my inclination."

"It took you all night to do that, did it?"

"No, Grandfather, it did not."

"I see," he said slowly. "You understand, dear boy, that when a man and a woman have passed the night together there is only one conclusion to be drawn about the events of the evening, irrespective of what may actually have occurred?"

"Yes. But it doesn't matter, Grandfather. We are going to be married." He turned to Mrs. Villines. "And I don't believe she's changed her mind, either."

"What do you propose to do if she has?" the viscount asked.

"They must marry, Eversleigh."

"I agree, Winifred. But he can't very well marry her if she isn't here."

"We can put an end to this immediately." Nicholas rang for Carsons and, when he arrived, spoke to him in even tones. "Mr. Carsons, will you ask Mr. Willard to come here directly?"

"Very well, Mr. Villines." He bowed and was gone.

Nicholas turned to his aunt. "Go to her, please, Aunt Winifred?"

"That girl is as stubborn as they come."

"Just don't let her leave."

"I'll do my best, Nicholas."

"This makes things awkward, does it not?" Lord Eversleigh settled his dark eyes on Nicholas when they were alone.

"We came to a positive understanding last night. It's impossible that she's changed her mind."

"It appears she has. Miss Willard asked for a carriage to take her to the station this morning."

"She's not gone, is she?"

"On my instructions, the carriage won't be ready for another hour at least." He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee, gazing thoughtfully at his grandson. "If you were Henry," he finally said, "I'd insist you marry the girl, with no dithering about, either. But perhaps you'd best leave things as they are. Let her refuse, she may know what's best. If it's necessary, I could arrange to have her stay in Europe."