What Wild Moonlight (40 page)

“And if he hadn’t accepted that offer?”

Nicholas’s mouth tightened to a grim line. “I don’t know. If he had tried to hurt you, I believe I would have killed him.”

“I see.”

She stood unmoving, as though uncertain what to do or say next. After everything that had passed between them, it should have been possible for them to bridge their differences. But an awkward gulf of unsaid words hung between them, keeping them apart.

At last Nicholas said, “I’ve been thinking about my father quite a bit during the last couple of days. It seems that he and I had even more in common than I thought true when I spoke to you of this a few days ago.”

“Oh?”

“He tried desperately to control every element in his life—so much so that he was willing to give up the woman he loved and his child. They didn’t quite fit in with the way he wanted his life to be.” He shrugged and smiled sadly. “In a sense, he won. He had neatly organized his life so that it was just the way he wanted it to be. Eminently proper, orderly, and controlled. But he was completely miserable.”

“And you were the same?”

“Yes.” His ebony eyes locked on hers. “Until I met you.”

As he watched, her expression seemed to suddenly lighten; her eyes glistened as though lit from within. Breathlessly she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the only thing that frightened me more than loving you was losing you.”

Her eyes grew wider, then a quivering smile curved her lips.

Throwing caution to the wind, Nicholas continued, “I couldn’t control the way I felt about you. I always expected that I would love someone quietly, coolly, and rationally. But you exploded into my heart. I tried to check my emotions from the very beginning—I thought at first I would only love your body. But I couldn’t limit it, I couldn’t confine it to one small part of your being, any more than I could love your smile but not love your eyes. Or love your scent but not love your skin. I found I loved your spirit and your strength. Then I loved your mind. Then I loved your soul. I was no longer setting the terms, and it took me a while to accept that.”

“I see,” she managed hoarsely.

In the thick silence that ensued, Nicholas leaned against the heavy mahogany desk and studied her expectancy. “Well?”

“Well?” she echoed tremulously.

“Now that I’ve just shared that ridiculously maudlin sentiment, you might return the gesture and tell me how you feel about me.”

“I might?…”

To Nicholas, standing there with his heart on his sleeve, it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for his words to get through to her. But at last Katya broke free from the astonishment that seemed to have been holding her in its grip. She raced across the room and hurled herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over in the process. “Yes,” she cried.

He gave a low chuckle as he tightened his arms around her. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, anything,” she exclaimed in giddy exultation. “Everything.”

He pulled back, searching her eyes. “Katya, do you love me?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes. Yes. I love you, Nicholas.”

He smiled. “Now that, little gypsy, is exactly what I’ve been waiting to hear.”

Katya woke slowly, naked and sleepy. She sat up and looked around the room, not quite certain what had disturbed her. The gentle, golden light of early morning filtered into Nicholas’s bedroom. The sunlight reflected off the ale mural that filled the wall behind her, sending shimmering rainbows bouncing off the soft cotton of the bed-sheets.

She realized immediately that Nicholas was gone. Glancing at his place beside her, she found a single white rose on his pillow. With a smile she lifted the rose to her cheek, inhaling the sweet, delicate scent. Then she leaped from the bed and quickly dressed. She rushed downstairs and out the back parlor, hurrying through the gardens until she finally reached the gazebo. Once there, she skidded to a breathless stop, staring at the sight before her in amazement.

Nicholas stood alone in the battered gazebo, sending her a smile of tender welcome. Thousands of white roses blossomed all around him. The heavy white blooms clung to vines that covered the wooden rail; they hung gloriously from the lattice roof. Roses bloomed around the base of the stone wall, near the wide steps, and in the bushes nearby. Rose petals covered the ground in a blanket of white velvet. The intoxicating scent of the rich blossoms was palpable in the air.

As Nicholas held out his hand Katya moved dazedly toward him. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago. I’ve been saving it as a surprise.”

“I love it,” she said, gazing around her in wonder. “I love you,” she added, snuggling against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze. “I like the sound of that.”

“Do you? In that case, I’ll have to say it more often.” She thought for a moment, then said, “Do you know that I first realized how you felt about me while a madman was holding a gun to my throat?”

He drew back and studied her face with a frown. “Jeremy Cooke told you that I loved you?”

“Indirectly.” She lifted the slim gold chain with the mother-of-pearl rose and twisted it between her fingers. “He told me that the DuValenti men give this necklace to the women they love.”

“True. But I should have told you sooner.”

“When did you first realize you loved me?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Nicholas thought for a moment. “The night we spent hidden together in the armoire,” he finally replied.

A blush stained her cheeks. “So it was nothing but naked lust that swayed your affections.”

“Your body is exquisite, little gypsy, but that’s not what I’m referring to.” He frowned slightly, then continued, “At least, not entirely. I’m not quite sure how to put it into words—you felt as though you were a part of me. As essential as water or air. It was at that moment that I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a gentle kiss against his cheek. “I’m glad.”

“And what about you?” he asked with a cocky smile. “When did you come to the intelligent conclusion that you couldn’t possibly exist without me?”

She averted her gaze as yet another crimson blush stained her cheeks.

He studied her face, his curiosity obvious. “Now I must insist you tell me.”

Katya gave a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “The first time you held me in your arms. The night we danced at the Duke of Westerly’s villa.”

“That must have been quite a dance.”

She shook her head, regarding him with aching tenderness. “Not the dance. The way I felt in your arms. I recognized in that instant I could never settle for anything less.”

“Did you?”

“I did. I wrote William when we returned that evening and broke our attachment. I knew then that I had mistaken our friendship for a deeper affection. We both had. There was no purpose in dragging it out any further.”

“He must have been devastated.”

“I would appreciate it if you could try not to sound so delighted when you say that.”

“He’ll recover.”

Katya smiled. “He may have already. I received a letter from him just yesterday. It appears he’s keeping company with an
actress
, if you can believe it. William and an actress. I never would have predicted it.”

“Bully for William.”

Nicholas took her hand and led her wordlessly to the soft, dewy grass between the rosebushes. To the spot where they had first made love. At that time, Katya remembered, the gardens had been filled with dark shadows and somber moonlight. Now golden sunlight fell all around them, bathing the spot in its rich, warm light. A soft blanket awaited them, and a bottle of champagne cooled in a sterling-silver icer. The sweet scent of cinnamon sugar and rangy fruit drifted from a wicker basket.

They made slow, lingering love. Once again the garden was filled with the sound of their sighs. They stroked and kissed and petted, exploring each other’s bodies as though they were entirely new to one another. In a sense, they were. The love they shared added new depth to their lovemaking, making it richer and fuller than it had ever been. By unspoken agreement, they held back as long as they could, stretching out the moment. At last they reached their climax and fell shuddering into each other’s arms.

After a long, breathless moment, Nicholas rolled onto his side and gathered Katya into his arms. “I have more news to share. Something I’ve already told the Comtesse.”

“Oh?”

“Richard should be home in a few weeks.”

Katya bolted upright, searching Nicholas’s gaze. “Richard? Truly? He’s all right then—but where has he been?”

“Apparently Jeremy Cooke was right in being dissatisfied with the men he’d hired to kill Richard. Rather than fulfill Cooke’s request, they doubled their money by drugging and selling him to the captain of a frigate bound for Cape Horn. The private investigator I’d hired finally tracked them down. Rather than hang for Richard’s murder, the men confessed what they’d done.”

“Then you’re certain you’ve found Richard?”

“I confirmed it with the ship’s captain via telegraph this morning.”

“And he was unhurt?”

“Physically, yes, but I suspect his pride took a beating.” He hesitated, then a rueful smile curved his lips. “That may not be such a bad thing. I think we all needed to be shaken up a bit in order to put our lives right.”

Katya regarded him with a small smile, uncertain what to say. The stark relief in Nicholas’s voice at his brother’s safety was evident. That there would be work to be done in mending the bridges that separated them was obvious; it was equally clear those bridges had not been burned beyond repair.

After a few minutes, they rose and took turns dressing each other. The occupation was not as enjoyable as stripping the clothing from each other’s bodies in a frenzied fit of passion, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

“I think,” she announced as they finished dressing, “that Richard should count himself exceedingly lucky to have such an honorable, loyal brother.”

“Really?” Nicholas returned dryly. “Was this remarkable assessment of my character reached before or after you tried to have me arrested?”

“Discreetly arrested,” she corrected. “I had no intention of having you paraded through the streets in chains like a common criminal. I made certain Monsieur Chatelain was made aware of your rank and status.”

“How considerate. You would spare me any embarrassment, yet you wished me locked away for fifty years.”

“Well… yes.”

“You really would have done it.” He studied her face for a long moment, an expression of awe and astonishment on his features. “God. I don’t know whether to hate you or respect you for it.”

“Monsieur Chatelain promised me that he would be most discreet,” she assured him. “As director of security for the casino, he spends his time dealing with dukes who are caught cheating at baccarat, earls who steal linen from restaurants, viscounts who drink to excess and beat their wives—”

“You’re throwing me in with that lot?”

“In my defense, you were acting strangely that night. All that talk of family duty, preserving your legacy, and not knowing until that moment what you were capable of… It was positively frightening.”

“If you recall, I was convinced at the time that I would very shortly be put in a position of having to kill my own brother.”

“I didn’t know that,” she protested. “I was frightened, confused—I thought I was losing my mind; I had to speak to someone.”

“I believe I was available.”

“True, but at the time I was sure you were a maniacal killer who was only after the Stone—”

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.”

“And then the next minute I was convinced that I loved you so desperately I wouldn’t be able to live without you.”

“Better.”

“It’s not as though I’m the only one who made a mistake,” she pointed out. “You thought I was a thief.”

“If you remember, I jumped to that insulting conclusion before I knew you, not after.”

“True.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, “How can I make it up to you?”

“You already have.”

“Have I?”

“You asked me once what I would wish for if I could have anything in the world At the time I didn’t have an answer. Now I do. Several, in fact.”

“What would you wish for?”

“I’d like a wife I adore,” he began, but Katya cut him off before he could continue.

“Wife?”

Nicholas’s gaze locked on hers. “I’d like to postpone the ceremony until Richard returns, if that’s all right with you.”

Katya somehow managed to find her voice. “That would be fine.”

“I’d like to spend more mornings in bed and more nights in front of a fire,” Nicholas continued. “I’d like to read books instead of ledgers. I’d like servants who smile rather than whisper. I’d like a child or two—or ten.”

“Ten?”

“And I’d like these roses to bloom year after year.”

In a voice of aching tenderness, she asked, “Is that all?”

“For the moment, but I’m sure I’ll have more demands later. I’m known to be quite unreasonable.”

“And if I promise to spend the rest of my life trying to fulfill your every wish?”

He studied her with solemn intensity. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Her heart swelling within her chest, she brushed her fingers lightly across his cheek. “I take my promises very seriously.”

“So do I, gypsy. So do I.”