No Other Love (11 page)

He smiled in a knowing way, and in the next instant, his mouth met hers. It was just as it had been the night before: his lips were warm and velvety, searing her with heat and a strange, shivery delight. She could not conceal the long shudder of pleasure that ran through her, and he made a sound of satisfaction deep in his throat at her response. His arm went around her tightly, lifting her from her saddle onto his horse in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest, as his mouth continued to conquer hers. Nicola leaned against him quiescently, a trifle stunned by her own response.

She had told herself that last night had been a fluke, that she had kissed him with a fervor that had been somehow born of that time and place and would never happen again. But she had been fooling herself, she knew now. This kiss touched her like fire, too, a strange fire that both consumed and fed her, that made her burn not only where his lips touched her but deep inside herself, as well. It was both wonderful and frightening, magical in its effect. Nicola felt a stranger to herself, yet she could not bring herself to want to return to the woman she knew.

Her arms went up and encircled his neck, and his kiss deepened, all lightness and mockery vanished in the flaming heat of passion. His lips dug into hers, opening her mouth to him, and his hand came up to anchor itself in her hair, holding her captive to his marauding lips and tongue. But she had no desire to escape him, only to taste more and more of the delight his mouth offered. She pressed her lips against his, her tongue meeting his in a delicate, sensual dance. She felt the shudder of his response as he let out a long, yearning sigh, and it stoked the fires of her passion even more.

His other hand slipped between the edges of her cloak and roamed up her body to cup her breast. His thumb circled her nipple through her dress, and Nicola made a noise of surprise and pleasure at the sensation that rippled through her. His fingers kneaded and caressed the lush orb, and his breathing grew harsh and heavy. Nicola moaned, her fingers digging into his shirt, as the things his hand was doing set up a hot, thrumming pulse deep within her abdomen.

His hand left her breast, and Nicola made a small noise of protest at the loss, but he moved it only to slip beneath the neckline of her dress, delving down inside the garment until he found the soft curve of her naked breast. Nicola gasped and jerked, stunned by the jolt of pleasure that shook her as his fingers slid down on either side of her nipple, capturing it between them. Gently he pressed and squeezed, his movement narrowly constrained by her dress, which somehow made the sensations he aroused even more titillating. Nicola’s nipple hardened and tightened, aching for his fuller caress.

He lifted his mouth from hers and gazed down at her with glittering eyes. His arm went behind her back, and she leaned against it, her head lolling back, as she luxuriated in the pleasure his hand aroused in her. It was all he could do not to rip her dress down the front to gain full access to her breasts, but he controlled himself, teasing them both with the soft grazing of his fingertips over her nipple. He was rewarded when Nicola’s hands came up and began to unbutton the top buttons of her dress, opening herself to him.

She did not think about what she was doing or how brazen and licentious she must seem—such thoughts would come later. But right now she was aware of nothing but the hunger coursing through her, the fiery grip of desire that clenched her vitals, wanting more and more….

With the barrier of her dress undone, he cupped her breast more fully, caressing and stroking the supremely soft skin and manipulating the nipple until it was a hard, pebbled button. He tugged gently at the nipple with his forefinger and thumb, and was rewarded by a soft moan from Nicola’s lips. With a gentle, caressing movement, he pushed down the neck of her chemise, shoving aside her dress and revealing the soft mounds of her breasts. He paused for a moment, gazing down at her, his eyes as black as the night around them.

“You don’t know how I have—” he began in a gravelly voice, then stopped abruptly. He bent and gently kissed the pink center of one breast. Nicola drew in her breath sharply and sank her hands into his thick, springing hair. She could not speak, could barely even think with his lips upon her, laving and caressing and teasing her nipple. He played with the little bud, pulling it finally into his mouth and sucking gently as he teased it with his tongue.

Heat flowered between her legs, increasing with each tug of his mouth upon her. Nicola dug her fingers into his scalp, hurtling toward something she did not comprehend. She only knew that she had never felt such fire or such urgency.

“Please…” she murmured.

He lifted his head, and she looked straight into his glittering eyes. “Is that not desire inside you now?” he asked huskily. “Are you not moaning with passion? Yet I warrant you feel no love for me.”

Nicola came to her senses with a jolt. Suddenly she was aware of the cold evening air on her bared breasts and of the fact that this man, this complete stranger, still held her breast, cupped brazenly in his palm. Shame flooded her, and her face blazed red. She shot up, away from his supporting arm, her hands going to her dress and chemise to jerk them back up to cover her. With a hard shove against his unyielding chest, she jumped down off the horse and ran over to where her own stood grazing placidly. She hastened to button up her bodice with fingers that still shook, rage and embarrassment warring within her.
How could she have been so foolish? So easily seduced? Whatever was the matter with her?

She felt as if she were a stranger to herself. Whenever this man was around, she acted like a different person.
It was no wonder that he held such a low opinion of her!
Nicola wasn’t sure whether she hated herself or him more.

Grabbing her horse’s reins, she glanced around for some low wall or rock or fence on which she could stand to mount him. To further her embarrassment, she saw nothing at hand. She turned and strode past the highwayman, her face averted from him. She could sense his eyes on her. Then he dismounted and followed her.

“Go away!” Nicola snapped, not looking back at him.

“I was going to give you a leg up,” he responded evenly.

“I do not need any help from you.”

“So you plan to walk back to Tidings, leading your horse?” The amusement in his voice exacerbated Nicola’s already raw feelings.

“No, I do not. I shall find a place to mount before long.”

“It would be much easier if I helped you. Come, put aside your pride at losing our little bet, and—”

“We did not have a bet!” Nicola whirled to face him, her face white with fury. “And I am not angry because my pride has been damaged. You are right—I don’t know whether I am angrier at you or at myself, for acting in that low, vulgar way! It makes me sick that I even allowed you to touch me.”

“I am sure it was much worse with me than with one of your highborn gentleman friends.”

“No gentleman has ever touched me like that! No man at all!” Her mind touched briefly on Gil and his sweet, drugging kisses. His hands had caressed her through her clothes and even opened her dress to touch the bare skin beneath.
But it had been different with Gil. They had loved each other, and it had been beautiful—nothing like this sordid episode!
She shoved the thought of Gil from her mind and went on. “You act as if I had allowed any number of men to do such things, and I have never—I would never—” Tears of anger rose in her, threatening to burst forth, and Nicola had to stop talking to hold them back. She refused to let this man see that he had made her cry.

She swallowed hard and struggled for a moment to bring her voice back under control. “I was a fool,” she said bitterly. “I acted like some silly, will-less woman, the sort whom men have to protect from themselves. But I can promise you that it will never happen again, least of all with you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, studying her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure!” Nicola hissed. “Just the thought of your touching me again makes my skin crawl. You are the lowest of creatures. They call you ‘The Gentleman’—what a joke! You are no gentleman at all. You are nothing but a common thief, no matter how you like to dress it up. You may have all the locals fooled as to your motives. They see in you a great Robin Hood. But I see you for what you really are—a robber who uses everyone around him to gain what he wants. Oh, yes, you so kindly give this poor widow a few coins to get her through the winter or help that unfortunate man who is too sick to work anymore. You do it to endear yourself to them. It’s no noble motive that pushes you, only the desire to bind the villagers to you so that they will help you, hide you, even join your gang! You care nothing for them—you care only for yourself. What is it to you if they get caught with you and face the gibbet? What is it to you if they lie for you and obstruct the law for you?”

“I ask no one to do those things for me!” he shot back.

“You do not need to ask. You know that they will, because you have convinced them that you are a noble defender of the people—when the truth is that you are greedy for money and too lazy to work to get it. No, you’d rather steal from someone else, and no doubt it is doubly pleasurable to get it from someone for whom you carry some personal grudge. It is all about you and what you want, and you don’t give a damn about anyone else!”

“I bow to your expertise in that matter.” His voice was tight, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “You like to help the people around here, but it is all for your aggrandizement. You love to hear their praise. You love the reverence in their eyes. You enjoy making them believe that you are a friend of the people. But you are a parasite on the earth, like all the other aristocrats, and when it gets down to the nitty-gritty, you won’t step out of your way for the common people. You stick with your own kind, and the rest of us be damned.”

“How dare you! You know nothing about me. You have no idea what I think or feel or why I do things!”

“I know you as well as you know me,” he retorted, stepping closer.

Without warning, he reached out and seized her by the waist, and Nicola gasped, suddenly frightened by his strength and anger. He heaved her up and tossed her onto her saddle. His lip curled, and she knew that he had read the fear in her eyes.

“By the way,” he continued with cold sarcasm, “my name is Jack Moore, in case you wonder to whom you almost gave yourself tonight.”

Nicola’s cheeks flared red, and she dug her heels in. Her horse took off like a shot, leaving the highwayman behind them.

R
EGRET FLOODED
N
ICOLA AS SHE
rode towards Tidings. Reaching into her pocket she took out the ring Gil had given her and fastened it around her neck, almost defiantly. By the time she reached the estate she had composed herself. She found Tidings ablaze with lights and the stable yard busy with grooms saddling horses. Richard was already mounted, with the Runner, Stone, on another horse by his side, and he was shouting out orders to the hapless grooms. The head groom turned, saw Nicola and let out a shout of relief.

“Miss Falcourt! Look, my lord, there she is.”

Richard turned and saw her, and his scowl grew even darker. “Good God, Nicola, what the devil do you think you’re doing? Do you realize what time it is? We were just about to mount a search party for you.”

“I know. I am sorry,” Nicola said with all the contriteness she could muster, for she hated apologizing to Richard. “I should have sent someone with a note explaining that I would be late. I didn’t think—I am so used, you know, to being on my own.”

“If this is your behavior in London, I shouldn’t wonder if your mother is prostrate with worry half the time.”

“Oh, Mother has quite given up on me,” Nicola replied lightly. “But I truly do apologize.”

“Your sister is practically hysterical,” Richard said sourly. “You had best get in and let her see that you are all right. She was certain that you had been kidnapped by that damned highwayman.”

Nicola was glad of the darkness to hide the rush of color in her cheeks at the very mention of the highwayman. “No, I was perfectly safe.”

“You cannot be sure of being safe,” Richard pointed out. “I should think you would have more sense than to ride about alone, especially after dark. You have already been stopped by the man.”

“I did not presume he would bother with a lone rider,” Nicola pointed out, sliding down off her horse and handing the reins over to the groom. It was galling to explain herself to Richard, as if he had some right to oversee her behavior. Yet she knew that she had been rude and thoughtless to stay out so long without letting her hosts know where she was, so she forced herself to answer politely. “And since he took my jewels and money yesterday, I shouldn’t think he would find me much of a prize to stop.”

“There are worse things than thievery, Miss Falcourt,” Mr. Stone added darkly.

“No doubt. However, I had not heard of this man attacking women.”

“You cannot be sure with a scoundrel like that, miss.”

“Next time you had better take a groom with you,” Richard ordered.

“I was only a little late,” Nicola said impatiently. “I really do not think it warrants quite this much fuss. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go calm Deborah.”

To her annoyance, Richard dismounted and followed on her heels into the mansion, walking with her to the drawing room, where Deborah sat, twisting and turning her handkerchief.