Nicole Jordan (15 page)

“I jumped ship during a storm. I told you Madsen changed his mind about carrying out my death sentence and instead had me sent to naval headquarters at Barbados. I was being conveyed there in a brig when a gale blew up. The wind broke the mainmast and left us floundering in the water.”

Aurora remembered the fierce storm that had prevented her own departure from St. Kitts the day Nicholas died—or the day she
thought
he had died.

“In the commotion, I managed to break my chains and dove overboard. I wasn’t followed. No one believed I could survive in those seas, and it was over half a mile to shore. I was presumed dead.”

“How incredible…You’re alive because the weather turned violent?”

His smile was ironic. “I know. But it’s you I owe my life to, siren. Our marriage delayed my execution long enough for fate to shift in my favor.”

Aurora bit her lip, recalling anew the long months of sorrow when she had thought him dead. “I wish I had known you were alive. It would have saved me countless hours of grief.”

“Did you grieve for me, Aurora?”

“Yes, of course. You were my husband.”

There was a short pause. “I still am.”

She drew a sharp breath as the import of his comment sank in. Nicholas
was
still her husband.
They were still wed.
Merciful heaven…

“In fact,” Nicholas added in a low voice, “that’s the reason I am here in England. I have a wife here. You.”

Once again shock held her speechless. She stared at him, her mind reeling.

“I might have come sooner,” he continued, “but it took me weeks to make my way to safety and locate my ship. Then it took more time to arrange for my journey here. Because of the war, I had to commandeer another of my cousin Wycliff’s ships and outfit it for the voyage. And I had to hire a British crew with papers that would gain them entry into Britain.”

“Entry…” Alarmed, she reached out to grasp his hand. “My God, you can’t be seen in England. You’re an escaped prisoner—”

“Easy, sweeting. I already
have
been seen. I’m here in disguise. As you can see, I dyed my hair. And I’ve assumed the identity of my American cousin, Brandon Deverill. We bear a strong resemblance, and I don’t think he would oppose my impersonation. Brand has his own shipping firm in Boston, and at the moment he is rather occupied with the war.”

Aurora’s eyes widened. “The war! Nicholas, if your cousin is American, then he wouldn’t be welcome here in Britain.”

“He would if he were a British loyalist, which is what I’m claiming to be. There are hundreds—perhaps thousands—of loyalists who object to the war and who have sought refuge on British soil, so my story is not at all unusual. I imagine Brand might protest that small detail of my deception, since he despises you Brits after what your government has done to Boston shipping. But I’m sacrificing his reputation for a good cause.”

“But…if you are found out, you could be hanged. At the very least you would be arrested.”

“Most definitely, but I don’t intend to be found out.” His teeth flashed in an amused smile—an amusement that Aurora could not share. His nonchalance only rekindled her anger.

“You cannot possibly think to remain in England, Nicholas. Don’t you understand? You will be
killed
.”

“I am rather hard to kill, angel. This wasn’t the first time I’ve escaped death by a whisker.”

She could well imagine he had faced death before and no doubt
enjoyed
it. His casualness made her furious, as did his audacity. He had even come to the ball dressed as the infamous Captain Saber, a foolhardy risk that incensed her.

Aurora stared at him, torn between wrath and dismay. Devoid of gentlemanly trappings in his rakish pirate’s garb, Nicholas looked the picture of a brazen adventurer, daring fate and laughing in the teeth of danger. Yet Aurora shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he were discovered.

“I am serious, you cannot stay,” she pleaded.

“So am I—and I cannot leave just yet. Not when I came all this way just to see you.”

“Well, you have seen me, so you may go.”

“But we have a dilemma to resolve, sweetheart.”

“Dilemma?”

He fixed her with his intense gaze. “What to do about our marriage.”

Marriage.
An unexpected sense of panic rose up in her. She was overjoyed to know Nicholas was alive, but it didn’t necessarily follow that she was pleased to have him for her husband. His presence complicated matters dreadfully—especially since he couldn’t even show his face without risking capture and death. Marriage to him would turn her life upside down, would shatter all her hard-won equanimity, would destroy the peace she had finally found. His very nearness sent her senses reeling—

Just then they heard laughter in the hall, and a couple walked past the library door. Aurora froze, deathly afraid Nicholas would be recognized.

“You
must
go,” she whispered fiercely when the laughter died away. “Someone might see you. Might see us and perceive your disguise.”

“I told you, being seen doesn’t concern me.”

“It does
me
.”

“That is quite evident, faintheart.”

“Nicholas…!”
she said, losing patience.

“Perhaps you’re right. A ball is no place for such a serious discussion. But we still need to talk about our marriage.”

“Yes, of course. But not now.”

“Very well, later.” He raised her fingers to his lips and brushed a light kiss there. “I will find you after the ball.”

When Aurora nervously withdrew her hand, he reached up to touch her cheek. She shivered with the same warm shimmering sensation his touch always aroused in her. The dark awareness in his eyes told her clearly he knew how he affected her.

She watched as he replaced his eye patch and once more became the dashing buccaneer. He went to the door then, and gave her a final lingering glance before disappearing from the room.

Aurora remained where she was, still feeling the overwhelming impact of his presence, still reeling from his startling revelation.

Her notorious husband of one night was very much alive. And she had no earthly idea what to do about it.

Chapter Eight

Nicholas frowned as he sat in the darkened carriage, waiting for his wife to appear.
Wife.
It wasn’t a term that sat easily with him. He had escaped hanging, only to find himself fettered by chains of matrimony.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one averse to such chains. Lady Aurora hadn’t seemed at all eager to acknowledge the legal bond they’d formed under admittedly desperate circumstances. His return had shocked her, but she was clearly more discomfited by the thought of being tied to him for life.

He was just as unnerved.

He’d frankly been tempted to ignore that major complication in his life. He could simply have remained in America and avoided dealing with the issue of his marriage, perhaps for years to come. And yet his conscience hadn’t allowed it. For too long he’d evaded his familial responsibilities, Nick reflected. It was more than time to satisfy his obligations, regardless of his own personal desires.

And in all honor, he couldn’t simply dismiss the existence of a wife…or what he owed Aurora.

It was solely because of her that he was even alive. She’d made it possible for him to honor his solemn oath to his father, which had meant more to him than whether he lived or died. And she’d kept her promise to care for his sister, seeing Raven successfully launched into society. Raven professed to be essentially satisfied with her new life, despite her disdainful, haughty relatives, and claimed Aurora had not only made her stay bearable, but had become a dear friend as well.

He couldn’t forget Aurora’s sacrifice or pretend it had never happened. Nor would it be fair to her—to either of them—to leave such a volatile powder keg primed to blow up in their faces at some future date.

They were still wed. No matter that necessity had compelled him to make her his wife. The vows they had spoken were real. As was the night of passion they had shared. The memory of it haunted Nicholas mercilessly.

For a moment his eyes narrowed. He’d had ample time during the past four months to convince himself that the golden-haired siren he remembered so vividly was merely a condemned prisoner’s fantasy. That the bond he’d felt that night was a primal need for intimacy brought on by desperation. No woman could possibly be as desirable as recollection painted Aurora Demming.

Tonight, however, had proved him wrong. Her cool, regal beauty was as stunning as he remembered, his attraction to her just as intense. Seeing her again was like taking a fist to the gut.

The temptation she presented was very real, if their first encounter was anything to judge by. Just touching her had made him hard in an instant, made him crave the wild sweetness of her body beneath him….

Nicholas tightened his jaw, forcibly reining in his lustful urges. He hadn’t expected Lady Aurora to be so set against acknowledging their marriage. She was bound to resist if he tried to claim her as his wife. Yet until that issue was settled between them, he had no business contemplating taking her to bed. He had no business even touching her.

Despite the gaiety of the masquerade, Aurora felt no joy for the remainder of the evening, only dismay and uncertainty and an ever-mounting tension. Nicholas had promised to seek her out after the ball, but she had yet to recover from the shock of seeing him, let alone compose herself enough to hold a rational discussion about their marital status. She could only hope for a reprieve until she’d had time for reflection.

Eager to take an early leave, she found Raven to say good night. They had no opportunity, however, to speak privately about Nicholas’s remarkable return from the dead—and barely a moment to exchange promises to meet tomorrow for their usual morning ride—before Raven was whisked away by another dance partner.

By coincidence, Aurora encountered Lord Clune as she prepared to descend the grand staircase to the front door. When he offered to escort her to her carriage, she demurred politely. “You needn’t trouble yourself, my lord.”

“It is no trouble to enjoy the company of such a beautiful lady.”

Aurora knew she should rebuff his casual flattery, but she was too distracted even to respond.

The street was crowded with any manner of vehicles, but the servants leaped to do the earl’s bidding, and Aurora’s carriage was summoned in short order.

“I have an early engagement tomorrow,” Clune said as he handed her into the barouche, “but I hope to see you some morning in the park.”

“Very well, Lord Clune,” Aurora replied, just wishing to be rid of him.

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

She scarcely heard his courteous behest, for as the door closed behind her, a strong hand reached out to support her elbow and settle her on the seat.

Aurora bit back a gasp, while her heart rose to her throat. In the dim interior she could make out a shadowy figure beside her.
Nicholas.

She could only stare as the carriage began to move forward. She had not dreamed him. He was truly the man she had wed, and the same sensations quivered through her at his nearness, just as powerful as they’d been four months ago.

His tone, however, lacked any of its previous warmth when he spoke. “Would you care to tell me what that was about?”

“About?” Aurora said rather breathlessly.

“Clune’s pursuit of you.”

“He is not pursuing me.”

Nicholas reached toward her and removed her silver mask, evidently wanting to see her face. “You expect me to believe he feels no interest in you?”

Taken aback by his tone, she gazed at Nicholas warily. “He was simply being kind, accompanying me to my carriage.”

“And you are so very appreciative of his kindness.” His voice held a hard edge of what could be anger. “Have you forgotten your husband so soon, Aurora?”

“I never forgot you,” she replied earnestly.

“No? You are hardly the picture of the grieving widow. Within four months of my supposed death, my lovely widow is attending masquerades and making assignations with noted rakehells.”

Aurora’s confusion at his unexpected attack melted into annoyance. “I have had enough criticism from my father regarding my conduct, Nicholas. I don’t require it from you as well.”

“Criticism seems deserved in this instance.”

“I assure you,” she retorted, “until now I have made every effort to avoid any hint of scandal. I attended tonight’s ball for Raven’s sake, because she begged me to—But I cannot comprehend why I must defend myself to you.”

There was a pause. Aurora could feel Nicholas’s gaze searching her. “So you weren’t encouraging Clune?” His tone seemed to soften.

“No, not in the least. Our relationship is not what you’re implying. He is merely a distant acquaintance. He is also one of the few people who never condemned me for my ill-considered marriage.”

Nicholas’s pause was longer this time. “Have these past few months been difficult for you, then?”

“You might say so,” Aurora replied with an edge of cynicism. “I gained more than a little notoriety when I wed you, a criminal on the gallows. My father was outraged…” She bit off the remark, not wanting to dwell on her father’s violent reaction. “Suffice it to say that I am no longer received in certain polite circles.”

“I regret you had to suffer because of me,” Nicholas said finally.

A little mollified, she studied him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the carriage, and in the moonlight filtering through the window, she could just make out his handsome features. He was no figment of her fevered imagination. He was the same incredibly vital man she remembered, every inch flesh and blood and rock-hard muscle, with the same strong face, the same fathomless eyes, the same sensuous mouth…She stopped herself abruptly.