Nicole Jordan (20 page)

The feeling was more than lust, though. It was like a barely banked fire, quietly smoldering, waiting to be kindled to an uncontrollable rage. And though she’d tried to resist it, Aurora had responded to him with an answering fire.

His loins hardened merely at the remembrance.

Nick ran a hand roughly through his now-dark hair. It had taken an almost superhuman effort to sever their embrace this morning. Yet he hadn’t trusted himself to continue touching her without making love to her. And that, to his mind, would cement their marriage.

If they were eventually to dissolve their union, he would damned well have to keep his hands off her. It wouldn’t be at all fair or honorable to slake his desire if he only meant to abandon Aurora. And if he were indiscreet enough to be discovered in her bed—or worse, get her with child—the scandal would be unavoidable. He most certainly didn’t want to mire her in scandal, or his sister, either.

Nicholas frowned. If he had any sense, he would probably give up the notion of trying to make their marriage work. Aurora was adamantly set against their union. And she had absolved him of any responsibility for her. He needn’t feel any guilt over shirking his obligation to her, needn’t let his conscience flay him, as it insisted on doing.

Her determined resistance of his advances perplexed him, though. She had surrendered eagerly enough on their wedding night. Since then, however, she had subtly changed from the innocent young lady he had wed. She seemed stronger now, more rigid and self-contained, fiercely determined to close herself off from any emotion that resembled passion.

But she had been hurt before, he had to remember. She’d lost the man she loved, and the experience had left a deep scar. Nick felt himself tense with jealousy each time she mentioned her former betrothed, despite the fact that possessiveness was unlike him. But the man was dead. And he should make allowances for her past grief.

Besides…he thought he could make her forget her loss if he put his mind to it. He had never yet met a woman who was unsusceptible to his charm when he chose to exert it. He could overcome her objections to their marriage if he truly wished to.

So, did he wish to?

Was he mad to pursue a woman who was so clearly unwilling to be his wife? Certainly it would be safer to leave England altogether. But then, he had never found much appeal in safety. Since he could first crawl, he had taken risks purely for the excitement of it. He preferred living on the edge, probably because danger made him feel so intensely alive. Accepting fate’s challenges was a thrill more intoxicating than any opiate.

And winning Aurora would be the most daunting of challenges.

Yet he was more convinced than ever that her cool elegance concealed a fire deep inside. Over the years he had learned to trust his gut instincts, for they’d saved him more than once. And every instinct he possessed told him she would be worth the effort.

And then there was his duty. He owed it to his father to shoulder his responsibilities.

Slowly Nicholas nodded. He wouldn’t abandon his plan to claim Aurora. He would remain in England for as long as it took, until he convinced her to make their marriage real.

That momentous decision made, Nicholas turned to leave the stall. Feeling a heavy weight press against his hip, he realized he’d forgotten about the book Aurora had given him, which lay in the pocket of his cloak.

Curiously he drew out the jeweled journal.
A Passion of the Heart.

His mouth twisted in a wicked smile. It was difficult to imagine his regal, well-bred, ladylike wife reading a tale of erotica, yet evidently there were hidden facets to the woman he had wed. Facets he was anxious to discover.

For now, however, he needed to find the proprietor of the livery, so he could hire a carriage and horses for his time in London.

Chapter Eleven

Aurora felt a thrill of exhilaration as the ground rushed beneath her mount’s thundering hooves. She bent over the gray’s neck, calling encouragement to the powerful horse as it strained to best the black Thoroughbred racing alongside her.

The cool wind whipped her widow’s veil back from her face and stung her eyes, but she was as reluctant to lose the race as her horse. When the two competitors finally neared the end of the sandy stretch of turf, Aurora’s Cronos was ahead of Raven’s Satan by a full length.

Aurora pulled up, laughing, while Raven did likewise.

“Well done!” the younger woman exclaimed, a trifle breathless. “I felt sure we would win this time.”

As they turned back, Cronos was still snorting and dancing with excitement, almost preening at his victory, while Satan shook his head at his rider’s firm hold, wanting to set off again.

Murmuring praise, Aurora patted her horse’s dappled silver-and-gray neck. “He is most assuredly in high spirits today.”

“I suppose that could explain our loss. But I might simply have to admit that you are the better horsewoman.”

“I wouldn’t give up yet,” Aurora said with a smile. “You nearly had us until the very last.”

“Oh, I have no intention of giving up,” Raven retorted with a grin. “Someday you will eat our dust.”

“Perhaps so.”

Even though they adopted a far more sedate pace as they retraced their steps along the sandy avenue called Rotten Row, Aurora shared her mount’s high spirits. She loved racing the wind on a swift horse—the exhilarating freedom, the excitement of competing and besting a worthy opponent, the sense of power when controlling the mighty animal beneath her, straining as one. The sheer joy of it made her blood sing.

The quiet of early morning in Hyde Park was by far the best part of her day. At present the paths were dedicated to serious horsemen and women, with none of the dandies or stylish ladies in elegant equipages that would congest the park later at the fashionable hour of five.

A fine mist hovered over the Serpentine lake, the dampness glistening on the wide stretches of grass and dripping from the trees that lined the path. By mid-morning when the mist cleared, the park would be filled with nannies supervising their young charges or rambunctious boys frolicking with their dogs, but at this hour, there were only dedicated riders about.

No sooner had she entertained that thought than Aurora saw a blue-coated horseman cantering toward them. Recognizing those broad shoulders even from a distance, she straightened abruptly in her sidesaddle, while her heart took up an erratic rhythm. It had been two days since Nicholas had left the privacy of her bedchamber after his outrageous invasion. Two days during which she had worried about his fate and fretted about his plans regarding their marriage. It vexed her that she’d received no word from him—and vexed her more that he had occupied her thoughts so intensely.

When he reached them, Nicholas slowed to a halt and gave a polite bow. He looked splendid in his exquisitely tailored blue coat and buff breeches and gleaming top boots, the picture of a fashionable gentleman. His eyes, however, glinted with wicked amusement.

“Good morning, ladies. May I compliment you on an excellent race?”

Aurora felt her face warm with color. She was embarrassed to have been caught galloping like a hoyden, especially by this man. Not only had she failed to ensure his sister behaved with decorum, but she’d exhibited precisely the same recklessness she claimed to deplore in Nicholas.

Raven had no such scruples about her conduct, though. “It
was
splendid, wasn’t it? Aurora has the most magnificent horses, and she is an angel to let me use them as my own.”

“An angel, indeed,” Nicholas agreed, his gaze connecting intimately with Aurora’s.

When his gaze moved with raking leisure over her dark plum riding habit, she felt her flush rise even higher at the appreciative male interest in his eyes. She was grateful when Raven’s groom came trotting up just then, accompanied by her own.

Not by a flicker of an eyelash did the hulking Irishman O’Malley show any recognition of Nicholas. But then Raven had said they’d already met and determined how best to carry out the pretense of Nicholas’s impersonation.

As a group, they continued riding down the Row, the two grooms maintaining a discreet distance behind. In keeping with the deception, Raven asked “Mr. Deverill” how he was finding London. And he responded with an amusing but impersonal account of how the wrong baggage had been delivered to his hotel rooms and that he’d been forced to complain to management that the walking dresses were not at all his size.

Aurora thought it fortunate that brother and sister could laugh and converse so easily, for it hid the fact that she herself was dismayingly tongue-tied.

A moment later, however, some other riders caught Raven’s attention. In the distance two young ladies were directing their horses onto a narrower path through the grass.

“There are Sarah and Jane,” Raven said rather abruptly. “Forgive me, Aurora, but I must go speak to them.” She gave Nicholas a conspiratorial glance. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Deverill.”

Nicholas tipped his tall beaver hat. “And you, Miss Kendrick.”

She turned her horse away, and O’Malley automatically followed, trailing her like a shadow. Aurora could think of no immediate objection to her leaving; there was nothing exceptional in Raven wanting to speak to her friends. Still, Aurora was disconcerted to be left alone with Nicholas. Her own groom was several lengths behind, she realized, glancing over her shoulder.

“She’s determined to provide us the opportunity to be alone,” Nicholas commented dryly, as if reading her thoughts.

“I cannot imagine why.”

“Can you not? Raven considers it romantic that our love has been thwarted and wants us to remedy the situation.”

Aurora gave him a quizzical glance. “Raven is not in the least romantic.”

“I’m not convinced of that. But in any case, she worries about you being lonely. She thinks we should remain married.”

“I see I shall have to talk with her,” Aurora muttered under her breath.

“I should talk with her as well about her shameless conduct. Imagine my surprise to see the two of you galloping past like wild Indians.” He shook his head disapprovingly, although there was an undertone of laughter in his voice. “I would have expected it of Raven, but you, love…”

“Raven isn’t to blame,” Aurora admitted reluctantly. “The fault is entirely mine. I instigated the race.”

“Did you?” His eyebrow lifted. “You mean to say you’ve been corrupting my sister, rather than the other way around?”

“I should not have, I know, but the horses were fresh, and there were so few people about to see…. And, well, the horses did need exercise, after all.”

Nicholas regarded her with amusement. “Have I uncovered a secret vice, my love?”

She bit her lip. Riding
was
her passion and her vice. It was her one freedom, her chance to escape her confining upbringing and the restrictive conventions governing widowhood. “As a widow, I am not allowed many liberties,” she began defensively.

“So when you come to the park, you allow yourself to go wild.”

“It isn’t as bad as all that!”

“Oh, I don’t think it bad in the slightest. The exercise has flushed your cheeks and brightened your eyes…. Amazingly sensual.” Nicholas’s measured gaze swept over her, while his tone became low and vibrant. “You look as if you’ve just risen from your bed after a night of passionate lovemaking.”

Aurora flushed, hardly knowing how to respond.

“It only confirms what I’ve suspected all along.”

“What do you suspect?” she asked warily.

“That there’s a hidden fire smoldering beneath that cool, regal air of yours.”

She was flustered by his intimacy, yet she could not look away.

“Your eyes truly are an incredible blue,” Nicholas said, his voice taking on a husky note.

Wondering how he could see her eyes, Aurora reached up to touch the brim of her hat and suddenly realized she had forgotten about her widow’s veil. Somehow it had blown back, leaving her face exposed. Dismayed, she settled the film of plum lace into place, concealing her features from his penetrating gaze.

“How ungenerous of you to hide yourself away,” Nicholas remarked, the laughter back in his voice. “I was enjoying the view.”

“What have you been doing with yourself these past two days?” Aurora asked, determined to change the subject.

“Have you missed me, then?”

She gave him an arch look, which she then realized he could no longer see because of her veil. “I was simply worried that you might have embroiled yourself in some kind of trouble.”

His smile was pure, unadulterated charm. “Whatever would lead you to think that?”

“What indeed?” Aurora replied wryly with unwilling amusement, struggling to resist his undeniable allure.

“Actually, I’ve been working on establishing my credentials. With Wycliff out of town, I’m finding it difficult. Your countrymen tend to look down their noses at Americans, no matter how loyal they are to the Crown.”

“It would perhaps help if you
were
loyal to the Crown.”

“Or if I had more blue blood. I suppose I need to find a sponsor to endorse me, particularly if I hope to move in your elevated social circles. Perhaps I should prevail upon you to introduce me to your highbrowed acquaintances.”

She was exasperated by his devil-may-care air. “I should think you would be the least bit concerned about the danger of flaunting yourself about.”

“Oh, I won’t purposefully flaunt my existence, but I won’t hide in the shadows, either.”

“I still fail to see why you don’t just return home to America.”

“Because I don’t want to abandon my lovely wife.”

Worried both by his statement and that he might be overheard, Aurora glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to find her groom was still a discreet distance away. “You needn’t advertise our relationship to the entire world!”