A Dangerous Game (8 page)

She heard Elizabeth’s gasp and smiled. Nicolette had always loved going against what was considered proper behavior. She almost felt sorry for Elizabeth. For the rules she must adhere to. To her father’s strict moral code. He would never let her realize how wonderful making love could be. Though Nicolette was still a virgin, she had been brought up in a whorehouse, and had known that all the sighs and moans had not been acting. Making love could be pleasurable, and she had experienced just the beginning of how wonderful it would be with Salvatore.

“I daresay that the countess would have a fit of the vapors if she were to see you now,” Elizabeth said, her face pinched in an unflattering way.

Nicolette glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Elizabeth. “I will try to avoid her at all costs then.”

“You forget she pays for your services.” The iciness in Elizabeth’s tone was unmistakable.

Nicolette was not about to contradict her by telling her they were not being paid. She did not wish to cause suspicion.

Elizabeth sniffed. “I wonder how it is for the two of you, always traveling, always playing for members of the aristocracy.”

Salvatore, who had been watching Nicolette, turned to Elizabeth with a frown.

“We have no complaints,” Nicolette said, before Salvatore could intervene. She wanted to handle matters herself for once, instead of always having Salvatore come to her rescue.

Nicolette hiked her skirts up higher and stepped in to knee-level. Darian looked his fill and well Elizabeth knew it. The other woman lifted her chin. “How uncertain your future must be. It is well-known that musicians who were popular one Season, are forgotten by the following Season.”

Nicolette was grateful for the cool water that lapped at her ankles, and the mud that sucked at her toes hampered her from rushing over and slapping Elizabeth.

“We are fortunate in that we have a following of loyal supporters.”

Elizabeth laughed without mirth. “You sound as though you are royalty.”

Nicolette thought the duke’s daughter most unattractive when she sneered like that. “No, we are not royalty, but I do have the luxury of living like a royal. I go where I want, when I want, and with whom I want. I answer to no one. Not a father, not a mother, not a chaperone...not a husband,” her gaze shifted briefly to Darian, “or a lover.”

The last was brazen of her, Nicolette knew that, especially when she saw Charlotte’s encouraging smile. Salvatore had gone completely still, and Darian looked oddly...pleased. Dear God, she had not meant to entice him, but the little snit had made it too easy for her.

Elizabeth’s gaze narrowed as she stole a glance at Darian, who looked at his fiancée with feigned innocence. “Yet for all the success you have achieved, it must be frightening to know that success is but fleeting. Certainly you fear for the future, for tomorrow it could all be over.”

Salvatore choked on his wine as he stared at the once-docile creature beside him. No doubt he wondered like Nicolette, how the prim and proper duke’s daughter had come by such a devious streak?

Carefully, he set his glass down and met Elizabeth’s mocking grin with one of his own. “All things in life are fleeting. You could have all the money in the world, not to mention titles, even beauty, but what does that buy you other than notoriety, things and attention...all of which have nothing to do with you, the person inside.”

“You have to strip those things away layer by layer, and then and only then will you find the person beneath.” A smile teased Salvatore’s lips. “I wonder what kind of person you are beneath that silk gown and those expensive jewels? Would you have the will and determination to make it in such a world, not to mention the talent?”

The hurt in Elizabeth’s eyes was obvious. The air was thick with tension, one could easily cut it with a knife. Nicolette glanced at Darian, as though she expected him to champion her. Darian remained silent, his brows furrowed in a frown, his disappointment in Elizabeth obvious.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet. “Well, I am quite ready to return to the manor. I am in desperate need of a nap before tonight’s activities,” she said, her voice clipped and curt, her brow lifted high as she expected Darian to jump at her command. “Darian, we must go.” Elizabeth tried without success to mount the mare on her own. Finally she turned to him, her agitation obvious by her heightened color.

The picnic officially over, Nicolette put her stockings in her pockets, tied the laces of her boots together and mounted with no assistance.

Once they were all in their saddles again, silence ensued, giving Nicolette time to think over Elizabeth’s venomous words. She was jealous, that was all. To the duke’s daughter, Charlotte’s and her behavior must have been a shock. Nicolette had honestly enjoyed Charlotte’s brazen behavior, even reveled in it. The woman had already proven to be a wonderful friend, a person she could confide in, a woman who would not judge her.

Like Nicolette, Charlotte rode barefoot. She watched the widow, noticed how she sat with back straight, her chest out. Nicolette mirrored Charlotte’s posture. From the corner of her eye she could feel Salvatore watching her.

“My lord! My lord!” The cry rang out over the fields.

A child ran toward them, arms waving wildly. His ratty clothes told her he was a servant or a beggar.

Salvatore dismounted and raced toward the boy. Nicolette was fast on his heels. “What is it?”

“Me father’s been hurt.”

“Where is he?”

“Over there, in the field. One minute he’s talkin’ away, and the next, he fell to ‘is knees. He’d been saying he did’na feel well, but he insisted on goin’ anyways.”

They followed the boy to where his father did indeed lay flat on his back. At first she thought the man was dead, for he stared straight up at the heavens.

Nicolette moved to the man’s opposite side and put her fingers to his neck. Feeling a steady pulse, she leaned down and felt his hot breath against her cheek. The man reeked of liquor.

“Drunk,” Nicolette mouthed to Salvatore who nodded. Salvatore put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You are very brave for seeking help for your father. We will get him home and see that he gets the care he needs. Where do you live?”

“E’s okay?” the boy asked, his brown eyes full of tears.

Salvatore smiled. “Yes, he’s okay.”

Relieved, the boy hugged Salvatore.

Salvatore hugged the boy tight to him. “Now if you would help us by getting your mother.”

“I can do that. We live just beyond the hill there.”

Nicolette watched with a lump in her throat as the boy grinned and raced for his house. What was it about Salvatore that he could reassure anyone?

“You have a gift with children, Salvatore,” Charlotte said, surprising Nicolette. The widow watched Salvatore with a soft smile on her face.

“Salvatore and I can lift him,” Darian said, coming up behind them, rolling up his sleeves.

“He is merely drunk,” Nicolette said, as Darian went down on his haunches beside her, so close his leg brushed against her skirt.

“What the—” The drunken man stammered, blinking repeatedly. Recognition dawned, his mouth dropped open, and he scrambled clumsily to his feet. “My lord, I didn’t know you...that you—”

“Do you make it a practice to work while you are drunk?” Darian asked, his face stern, his voice uncaring.

“I coulda walked,” the man said, stumbling back a few feet. “I didna need no help.” Hearing the wagon behind her, Nicolette turned just as the boy jumped from the wagon.

“Papa, you’re alright,” he said, his face splitting into a relieved smile.

The father said nothing. He just stared past the boy, to the woman who sat silently in the wagon, watching him with disapproval.

The boy was all but forgotten as the man passed by him and climbed into the wagon.

The boy looked so crestfallen, it broke Nicolette’s heart. “Thank you,” the man’s wife said, and without another word, turned the wagon about.

“Come on, boy,” the man roared, and Nicolette watched with a heavy heart as the boy ran for the wagon, but stopped short. He backtracked and hugged Salvatore.

Salvatore pressed something into the boy’s hand.

He opened his hand, palm up, displaying a shiny coin. “Thank you, sir!”

Salvatore ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now go, help your mother get your father into the house.”

“E’ll be okay?” Worry laced the boy’s words.

Salvatore smiled reassuringly. “Yes, he’ll be just fine.”

“I’d better go before they get angry,” the boy said, running after the wagon.

“Well that was disappointing,” Darian said, frowning at the wagon’s slow progress.

“More than likely it was a one-time occurrence,” Salvatore said, walking back to his horse.

“I doubt that,” Darian said, with a heavy sigh. “By the state of their clothing, it is obvious he spends his money on drink.”

“Perhaps that is why he drinks, because he can scarcely afford food and clothing for his family.” Salvatore’s voice was stern.

Darian turned, his brow lifted. “Salvatore, you sound so impassioned. Tell me, how do you know so much about a family you have only just met.”

Salvatore, already astride the horse with reins in hand, rested his forearms on his thighs. “The boy was truly concerned about his father. If his father was known to drink, the boy would be accustomed to the effects of alcohol, and he would not have been frantically yelling for help.”

“But the boy is a child.”

“It is amazing how fast one grows up when you are raised with so little.”

Darian’s lips quirked.

“I can still smell the filth.” Elizabeth went so far as to flinch. “How could you touch that boy’s hair, Salvatore? Who knows what type of vermin—”

“They are doing the best they know how,” Nicolette remarked, irritation lacing her words. “Surely you can’t begrudge them that.”

“Indeed, you cannot,” Charlotte added.

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I meant no disrespect to you or Salvatore. I realize you came from...similar conditions.”

In a flash, Salvatore yanked the reins from Elizabeth’s hands and pulled the horse closer. “You have no idea what it is to live in a place that is cold and damp, to where no matter what you do, you cannot get warm. If you had one ounce of compassion, you would realize what it is to live in poverty. As you have referred to many times this day, Nicolette and I have experienced such a life. We know firsthand what it is to go to bed on a filthy cot, your stomach cramping for lack of food. I remember many a day when we went through the garbage of fine people like you, looking for scraps to eat, just so we could live to face another endless day.”

Elizabeth blinked rapidly as though he’d slapped her.

“You would not survive an hour in such conditions,” Salvatore continued, a sardonic smile on his face. “So you demean anyone who does not have the luxuries you take for granted.” He shook his head, opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but instead clamped his jaw shut. Without another word, he tossed the reins to her horse back at her and took off like a shot.

Chapter Seven

It took all of Nicolette’s willpower to not follow Salvatore. Charlotte had brought her horse alongside hers and leaned forward. “Leave him to his thoughts. Let us enjoy the ride home.”

Despite her best efforts not to think about it, the scene between Salvatore and Elizabeth replayed in Nicolette’s head over and over again. Elizabeth, at Darian’s side, kept her chin lifted high, her fury evident by her rigid stance. Nicolette thought she might pack her things when they returned to the manor...just in case they were asked to leave.

When they had fallen a ways back from Darian and Elizabeth, Charlotte asked, “Have you made love to him yet?”

“I beg your pardon?” Nicolette replied, looking ahead to make sure Darian had not heard.

The sides of Charlotte’s mouth curved into an amused smile. “Salvatore. I saw the way you watched him today. The way he watches you. You desire him, do you not?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, yet Charlotte could read her too well to know she’d lied, and she felt comfortable with the widow. “I do.”

She beamed. “I knew it!”

“Yet he does not feel the same.”

Charlotte snickered. “My dear girl, you have so much to learn about men.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know men. I can read the look in their eyes, can tell by a glance if they want me or not. Just as I saw the way Salvatore looked at you...and he wants you.”

The words excited Nicolette, giving her hope. “Yet he treats me like a child.”

“He treats you like the child you were, not the woman that you’ve become. It is time you take matters into your own hands. Show your independence, prove to him that you don’t need him—”

“But—”

Charlotte put up a gloved hand. “Let him see that you can thrive without him, and let him chase you.”

“He would never—”

“How do you know?”

Nicolette opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

“The past few nights, as Salvatore’s dinner companion, I have learned that the two of you have been inseparable for over a decade. True, you have spent time apart, but never a single night. You have traveled as musicians for five years, and he manages your career, while all you have to do is practice. He is so attuned to taking care of you, he has come to look at you more as a sister, I suppose, than a love interest.”

How she wanted to tell Charlotte of the plan to ruin Darian’s marriage.

Yet she would never betray Salvatore.

“The only thing I do not understand is why you are flirting so outrageously with Darian...and Salvatore seems to condone it. It makes no sense to me.”

Nicolette could feel the blush race to her cheeks.

Charlotte laughed. “So I ask you, why do you flirt with Darian when it is clear you prefer Salvatore?”

Did she dare tell her friend the truth?

“I want to make Salvatore jealous,” she blurted.

“It is as I thought. You are using one to get to the other. See, you are clever.” She seemed pleased. “Let me ask you this. Have you ever been with a man?”

Nicolette shook her head. “No, not like that.”

“How far then?”

Nicolette winced. “I have kissed.”

“Salvatore?”

“Yes.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, it was a chaste, on the cheek kiss.” “I asked him to kiss me the other night in the garden.”

The widow’s eyes lit up. “And did he?”

“Yes.”

Charlotte grinned. “Well, tell me everything.”

“The other morning I went for a ride and Salvatore came after me. The storm came, both our clothes were wet, so he stood with his shirt off, staring into the flames.” Nicolette met Charlotte’s smile. “He has a beautiful physique.”

“And...” Charlotte prodded.

“I kissed him, and he kissed me back. My hands wove through his hair and suddenly his lips had left mine, to travel down my neck to my breasts.”

The side of Charlotte’s mouth curved. “And?”