Dark Fires (24 page)

45

As sleep faded, Nick reached for Jane.

His hand found only the warm space on her side of the bed, and it lingered there, while his consciousness returned. With it came recollection of the night before and that morning, when, a few hours earlier, he’d awakened her with his hands and mouth, to make love to her again. The first time had been frantic, the last soft and easy. He was stirring now. Amazingly, he could not get enough of her and he wanted her again.

He opened his eyes to look up at the peach silk tenting of the canopy above his head, listening for her, for the sounds of her return. A smile lazily appeared, softening his features, easing the harsh lines around his mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so wonderful, so calm and relaxed, so replete. Hurry back to me, Jane, he thought. I want you, darling.

He closed his eyes. Was he brave enough to tell her how much she meant to him? That without her there was only darkness and despair? That she was the sunshine and laughter in his life? That he loved her?

He was a coward. He was afraid to let her know the enormity of his feelings for her.

And then he heard the distinct sound of retching.

The earl was already out of the bed as the harsh sound came again from the water closet. Grim and concerned, he rushed forward, to find Jane on her knees, hugging the bowl, her face pale and tinged green.

“What is it?” he cried, acute panic knifing him. He knelt beside her, taking her into his arms, and she leaned against him wearily. “Jane, you’re ill!”

“It will pass, I think,” she mumbled into his chest.

He stroked her hair, then froze, as the significance of her morning illness struck him. Morning illness. He separated himself from her to stare at her, tense and hard now, sick and furious. Didn’t women become ill like this a month or so after conceiving? Not within a few days. She suddenly dove for the bowl again, retching.

He steadied her and, after she had finished, helped her rise. He watched her as she rinsed her mouth and washed her face and hands. For once he was, impossibly, immune to her naked body, so slim and slender, yet so perfectly curved. She turned to him, with an embarrassed smile, then saw his expression and froze. “Nicholas? What is it?”

He smiled, but it was only a bitter twisting of one side of his mouth. “Maybe you had better tell me”.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, anxiety in her tone. She touched his arm, he jerked away. “What is it!” she cried.

“You’re pregnant,” he said flatly, eyes cold and emotionless. “And it certainly isn’t with my child.”

Jane stared.

“Whose is it?”

“My God,” she said, touching her chest, and then she started to smile.

His frown became a scowl. “Who is the father, Jane?”

“I am not pregnant,” she told him. “It’s an impossibility—unless the child is yours.”

“You seem pregnant to me, and you wouldn’t have this morning sickness so quickly from my seed!”

“You ninny!” she cried. “I told you, it’s impossible that this is morning sickness. There has been no one but you, Nicholas. I have a flu, that’s all.”

His heart clenched. He gripped her shoulders. “What are you saying!”

She touched his face. “There’s been no one but you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve never been with another man, Nicholas, ever.”

He stared, swallowing hard, stunned.

She smiled beautifully, touching his face again. “If I am pregnant, darling, it’s from the past few days or that time in the library. It’s that simple.”

“God.” Nick groaned. “Jane, this is the truth?” He was hoarse, barely able to function.

“Yes.”

She had never been with anyone but him. Never given herself to anyone but him. Had been loyal to him. He swept her into his arms and held her fiercely, rocking her, while hot tears stung his eyes. I love you, he thought. God, I love you!

But he could not say the words.

And then he wondered if she loved him. His heart beat painfully, exuberantly. She must! Why else would she have been faithful to him all these years? God, she must!

And suddenly he was no longer damned, but blessed.

Nick buried his face in Jane’s hair, clinging to her.

“Nicholas,” she whispered, her hands roving his back. “What is it?”

He couldn’t speak. So he just held her.

Two evenings later, the earl made his way backstage to his wife’s dressing room. Once again he had sat in the nearly empty theater through her entire performance, unable to take his eyes off her. She mesmerized him as she performed, and he knew he was sorely infatuated with her.

A dark man with spectacles was just leaving her room as Nick entered. He was the Criterion’s manager, and he nodded abruptly at him. Gordon was with Jane, looking somber, but the earl had eyes only for his wife. She sat on the sofa, pale and taut, surrounded by hundreds of white roses, which filled the dressing room. His white roses, and he smiled at the thought.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Gordon said. “Good night, Jane, Shelton.”

“Nicholas,” she cried intensely after he’d gone.

Instantly he came to her, took her hands, kissed them. “Darling, what is it?”

“You won’t have to send me any more flowers,” she said simply.

“You’re closing?”

She nodded, her eyes large and luminous.

He hugged her, and she rested in his embrace, eyes closed. “There’ll be other shows, Jane. And you were wonderful. I can personally vouch for that.”

She sighed. “I think you’re not exactly objective.” The brief smile faded. “It’s just so sad when the show closes. It’s almost as if someone has died.”

He stroked the hair at her temple. He had wanted nothing more than to take her and their children to Dragmore, but now he changed his mind. “We will stay in London,” he said. “We won’t go to Dragmore.”

“What!”

He smiled gently. “I’m realizing how much acting means to you. Find another show. It’s all right. Forget that lousy agreement we made. You’re as wonderful a mother as you are an actress, and you’ve certainly proved you can be both at once.”

Tears filled her eyes. She clung to him and started to cry.

“Jane.” He was numb. What had he done? He’d only wanted to make her happy. “Darling, if I’ve done something wrong …”

She shook her head, sniffing, nose red now. “You are an angel, Nicholas,” she said softly. “Your offer is superb. You are superb.”

He tried to hide his pleasure at the compliment, and failed. “Well.” He shrugged, but he was smiling.

“I happen to want to go to Dragmore,” Jane announced, stroking her finger along his jaw. “I want some time alone with you and the children. Do you mind?”

“Mind?” He nearly shouted. He laughed, swept her against him. “Jane,” he said, low. “No one’s ever called me an angel before!”

46

Jane stood in front of the dressing table in her bedroom, a dreamy smile on her face, as Molly helped her button up the back of her dress. She had overslept, sinfully. Yet she hadn’t gone to bed until dawn. Her smile increased. She was remembering last night.

The earl had taken her for an intimate, elegant dinner at one of London’s finest restaurants. From there they had gone dancing at the Regency, then strolled along the Thames, hand in hand, and after …

Jane briefly closed her eyes. Just thinking about his lovemaking brought an instant tension and need to her body.

“There you go, mum,” Molly said. “My, ain’t you a sight this morning! A stunner if ever you were one, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Jane smiled, regarding herself openly. Her eyes were a dazzling blue, sparkling boldly, her cheeks flushed naturally, and, indeed, she was striking this day. “I don’t mind,” she said softly, while inside her soul was singing. She reached for her pearl-inlaid hairbrush, then paused, noticing a small wrapped, beribboned jeweler’s box next to it, with a card.

Molly saw it too. “Another one!” She gasped.

Jane tried to frown, and failed. She opened the gilt-edged card. As had all the others, it said simply “To my wife, Jane, from Nicholas.” She shook her head. Inside the box was a choker of diamonds that must have cost thousands of pounds. Molly gasped.

In the past week, since their reconciliation, he had given her a stunning sapphire ensemble, a breathtaking bracelet of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, an exquisite rope of pearls. Not to mention all the white roses. And now this, worth a king’s ransom. He was surely out of his mind!

“He must love you very much,” Molly breathed, awed. “Ain’t you gonna try it on?”

Jane did not exactly have to be coerced, and Molly helped her don the necklace. It consisted of three tiers and a large teardrop point. It was much too much—where would she wear it?

“Where is the earl?”

“He’s still in the dining room.” Molly grinned. “He slept late too.”

Jane blushed. She hurried downstairs, her heart tripping, and trying to control it.

As usual, the sight of him stole her breath. His dark head was bent over something he was reading. He was utterly magnificent, bronze and ebony, and when he looked up, his eyes flashed silver. Then he saw the necklace and he smiled. “Good morning,” he said, his tone intimate and sexy, conjuring up memories of their many shared moments of heated passion.

“Nicholas,” she tried to chide.

He was standing, coming to her, taking her shoulders and giving her a quite improper kiss. Jane lost her head, of course, and returned it, and it was he who set her apart as she clung to him. “Maybe we should go back upstairs,” he said, teasing.

Incredibly, had he been serious, she would have needed no persuasion! “Nicholas, you must not give me any more gifts!”

“You don’t like it?” he asked, hurt.

“I love it,” she cried. “But this is insane! I don’t need so much jewelery, and if you keep this up you’ll be bankrupt!”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Let me worry about our finances, Jane. Dragmore is quite in the black, thank you.”

“Please,” she said, as he seated her. “Please, no more gifts.”

“I cannot give you my word,” he said, his grin mischievous, and Jane knew she had lost. She wondered if Molly was right. If he loved her.

As he poured her coffee, automatically adding cream, she saw he was reading a letter. “Who is it from, Nicholas?”

She felt the easy carefree attitude evaporate. Seriously he replied, “It’s from my parents. In Texas.”

Jane sensed something amiss and did not understand. “How wonderful. What news?”

He smiled then, slightly. “It seems my roguish brother has finally been snared—by a suffragette, no less. He got married this spring.”

Jane knew a little bit about Nick’s younger brother, Rathe. She had been told that he was charming, handsome, and a very successful businessman, as well as an unrepenting ladies’ man. But, apparently, his womanizing days were over. “It must be a romantic story,” she said, a touch wistfully. “He doesn’t sound like the type to have fallen for one of those Bloomer girls!”

Nick’s smile was wry. “No, he doesn’t, does he.” Then he growled, “The little bastard! He must be in love—not to write me himself!”

“You love him very much,” Jane said softly.

High up on his cheekbones, the earl reddened. “He’s my brother,” he said gruffly.

“And your sister? The one in San Francisco? Storm?”

“Happily married, two kids, just moved into another mansion.” Nick smiled. “Probably still making Brett crazy with her wild ways.”

“She’s wild?”

He softened. “She was quite the tomboy, Jane, and totally stubborn. How she ever became the lady she is today is quite beyond me.”

“You miss them.”

He avoided her gaze.

“Let’s go visit.”

The earl looked at her, saying nothing, but Jane saw something dark and disturbed in his eyes; worse, she felt it. “Shouldn’t Chad meet his aunt and uncle, his cousins, his grandparents?”

The earl toyed with his knife, eyes upon the table. “Yes.”

Jane said nothing. What was amiss? She didn’t want to pry, not yet, their relationship was too fragile, yet she sensed his need and desperation— that there was something deep and malignant which needed healing.

The earl sighed, the sound heavy. “I’ve been thinking about taking Chad to Texas. It’s his heritage as much as Dragmore.” His gaze, pain-filled, touched Jane’s. “It’s where I was born and raised.”

Jane said nothing.

“It’s been a long time,” the earl said thickly, and Jane knew he was talking about himself and the last time he’d been to his parents’.

“Are your parents well?”

“Yes.” He managed a rough smile. “They want me to come home. They’ve been begging me to make a trip west for years.”

“It sounds like they miss you very much,” Jane said. “Do you want to go?”

He hesitated, turned to look out the window at the immaculate lawn. “Yes. No.”

Jane touched his hand, covering it with her own. “Whenever you want to go, I will be ready.”

His gaze held hers, filled with relief and gratitude. “Thank you.”