The Passion

Chapter Seven

Against my will, he haunted my dreams.

London, June 1813

The masquerade was a grand success if the size of the crush was any indication. The ballroom overflowed with shepherdesses and princesses, armored knights and mythological gods. Even the Prince Regent had made an appearance earlier, assuring a triumph for the ball's hostess, Lady Dalrymple, who was Raven's aunt.

Behind her satin mask, Aurora kept a watchful eye from the sidelines as her ward moved through the lively steps of a country dance with a Cupid. Raven was dressed as a gypsy and fit the role to perfection, with her flowing ebony hair and bright skirts and gold bangles.

More than one gentleman obviously admired both the costume and its wearer. Standing beside Aurora, the Earl of Clune eyed the vivacious gypsy with interest.

"Your ward appears to be enjoying her success," Clune remarked. "But I'm surprised her aunt condoned her attendance at a masquerade."

"There is no harm in it," Aurora replied mildly. "Lady Dalrymple would never allow any scandalous behavior in her own home. And it would have been cruel to keep Miss Kendrick imprisoned upstairs in her bedchamber and deny her the experience of her first masquerade. Besides, she has made her come-out, and she is older than most debutantes – and decidedly more mature."

The earl turned to regard Aurora, probing her mask. "It is also surprising to think of you as her guardian. You cannot be much older than she."

"Two years. And I am more friend than guardian to Raven. I do, however, take my responsibility for her quite seriously." Aurora returned dune's gaze steadily. "If you are thinking of pursuing her, my lord, I feel I must warn you against it. I'm certain you would not suit in the least."

His rakish smile was all charm. "Indeed. Chaste young debutantes are not my style. I have a decided partiality for lovely young widows, however. If you find yourself in need of consolation, Lady Aurora, I would be delighted to oblige."

Aurora repressed a smile behind her mask. Jeremy Adair North, nicknamed "Dare" for his outrageous exploits in the bedrooms and ballrooms of Europe, was one of the premier rakes of the beau monde. It was hard to dislike him, no matter how wickedly or scandalously he behaved, for he possessed a seductive charm that was infectious. His wealth and rank also served to excuse his notoriety in the eyes of the ton. In addition to an earldom, he was reportedly soon to become the Marquess of Wolverton, for his grandfather's health was failing rapidly.

Aurora had known Lord Clune for some years. He'd never paid her the least attention until now, undoubtedly because she was considered fair game in her widowed state. The moment he had spied her across the room, he'd sought to discover the woman behind the mask, claiming that he relished a mystery. He hadn't stopped quizzing her until she revealed her name.

"Must I remind you I am in mourning, sir?" Aurora asked, deliberately adding an edge of sternness to her tone.

"And yet you are here this evening. It is hardly considered proper to attend a public function so soon after suffering a bereavement."

"My husband did not wish me to grieve for him. And until tonight I've taken care to follow proper conventions of mourning. Even now my deviation is not so egregious. I am not dancing, and I've made every effort to conceal my identity. You did not recognize me, you must admit."

Chine eyed her with amusement. Her costume, consisting of a silver domino and a headdress encrusted with crystal beads, was rather plain compared to the other guests' extravagant attire, and extremely modest, covering her head to toe, while her mask hid all of her face but her mouth and chin.

"On the contrary," Clune responded in mock offense. "I would never fail to recognize the most alluring beauty in the room."

Aurora bit back a wry reply. She had no intention of engaging in a flirtation with the most notorious rake in London. She was highly conscious of the need for circumspection, for Raven's sake, as well as her own, and knew the risk she'd taken in coming here.

"My sole reason for attending tonight," she explained patiently, "is that Miss Kendrick asked me to provide her support. She does not yet have so many friends that she feels comfortable in society."

"She is not lacking for admirers now, certainly," his lordship commented, shifting his gaze to the ballroom floor. "Witness the gaggle of besotted young bucks flocking around her." The dance had ended, and a laughing Miss Kendrick was completely surrounded by a dozen young gentlemen, all vying for her attention.

Aurora was gratified to see Raven so much sought over. She was fitting in to the British social whirl amazingly well. Indeed, with her vivacity and frank outspokenness, she had earned a reputation as an "original."

To Aurora's delight, Raven had proven a joy to befriend. Despite her unconventional beliefs and hoydenish ways, her manners were extremely agreeable, and she could be graceful and poised and articulate when she chose to. She primarily needed to polish her social skills and her understanding of the intricacies of etiquette.

It was her attitude, particularly her tendency toward recklessness, that was most likely to land her in trouble. But she was trying very hard to repress her natural high spirits. Except for her early morning gallops in the park with Aurora – gallops that Aurora admittedly was guilty of encouraging – Raven had made a staunch effort to conform to convention, so that none but the highest sticklers could find fault.

She listened carefully to every utterance Aurora made, for she was adamant about fulfilling her mother's lifelong wish – making an excellent match by wedding a title and fortune. Having grown up in the limited society of a small Caribbean island, shunned by her haughty relatives because of her conception, Raven was determined to join the elite realm of the British aristocracy that had repudiated her mother.

She might very well reach her goal of having a half dozen offers of marriage by the end of the season, Aurora suspected. It was a coup that earlier this evening Prinny had pronounced Miss Kendrick "charming."

"A pity you must refrain from dancing," Chine mused aloud. "But I suppose you cannot afford the slightest indiscretion after your disastrous marriage." When Aurora sent him a sharp glance, he smiled lazily. "I say that in jest. Doubtless I'm one of few people who don't consider it shocking that you wed a notorious American. I remember Nicholas Sabine from his visit here a few years ago – quite an impressive man. The first and only Yank to be welcomed as an honorary member of the Hellfire League."

Clune was the nominal leader of the club of wicked rakes called the Hellfire League. He, along with Nicholas's English cousin, the Earl of Wycliff, had been the subject of sensational gossip for years, and deservedly so.

"I remember being green with envy," Clune admitted, "listening to Sabine tell about his adventures – Exploring foreign lands, searching for hidden treasure, battling bandits… He once narrowly escaped being skewered by an angry warlord's scimitar on the Barbary Coast, were you aware?"

"I hardly find that cause for envy," Aurora replied dryly.

"Perhaps not, but his courage was admirable. To hear Wycliff tell it, your Nick was a hero countless times over. In India once, he tracked down a man-eating tiger that had been preying on villagers for months. Took the animal down with one shot. They renamed the village after him."

Wycliff had told her similar tales about her husband's exploits. Nicholas reportedly had once saved the life of a Russian prince while hunting wolves. When the nobleman's troika went through the ice into a lake, Nicholas had pulled him out and carried him more than a mile to shelter. He'd been rewarded with enough priceless jewels to ensure a luxurious life for years – which, added to the fabulous pirate treasure he'd discovered beneath the Caribbean in his youth, had made him a wealthy man long before he assumed control of the Sabine shipping empire.

Aurora felt her gaze blur momentarily at the bittersweet thought of Nicholas. Without question, he had often risked his life simply for the thrill of it, but he had also saved a number of lives in the process. It was one of the reasons she felt such guilt over his death; she'd done nothing to save him until it was too late. If only she had insisted on speaking with the governor sooner… If only… But it did no good to dwell on the past.

And she preferred to remember Nicholas as the tender lover he had been on their wedding night, rather than the reckless, dangerous man she knew he was at heart.

"I understand," Chine observed, "your father was not overjoyed that you wed during your sojourn in the Caribbean."

"No," Aurora murmured. The ton had been scandalized by her marriage, as expected. Even for a duke's daughter, it was anathema to marry a brazen pirate who'd met an ignominious end on the gallows. But her father had been livid at her transgression, lashing out at her in a convulsive fury that had left her shaken – although publicly he'd maintained a chill pretense of indifference, unwilling to add more fuel to the sensational fire her highly improper marriage had caused.

Thankfully his vow to cut her off without a shilling had had no teeth, since her marriage settlement had made her quite wealthy. Nicholas's cousin, Lucian Tremayne, Lord Wycliff, had attended to the complex financial details at once – when he could have made it extremely difficult for her to secure any part of her claim to her late husband's fortune. Then, when she was treated with disdain by certain high-browed members of the ton, Wycliff had entered the fray, proving her strongest defender and providing her the protection of his exalted name and position, warmly welcoming his American cousin's bride into his family.

Her path was far smoother after that, for few people would dare slight a man of Wycliff's consequence.

For the most part, however, her acquaintances had stood by her. She was still received except in the most rigid of circles. Her closest friends called upon her at her new home with regular frequency, allaying her loneliness. And in some respects, ironically, she had become more of a matrimonial prize than before. A wealthy widow who needed consoling was prime game for fortune hunters – or rakes, Aurora thought with a glance at the handsome, licentious, fair-haired lord standing solicitously beside her.

"I imagine," Clune commented obliquely, "there were others besides your father who didn't welcome the news of your marriage." He gestured along the sidelines toward a tall, stately gentleman dressed as Henry VIII. The Duke of Halford stood there stiffly, eyeing the crowd with his quizzing glass in apparent disapproval of the gaiety. "His grace would not have appreciated your jilting him."

"But I did not jilt him," Aurora replied.

"No? Rumor has it that you were to wed Halford."

"My father favored the match, but we were not betrothed."

"Still, a man as proud as Halford would have taken your sudden marriage as an insult."

"Actually, he was rather understanding," Aurora said, greatly shading the truth, "when I confessed that I fell hopelessly in love with my husband."

"Well," Clune remarked with a sardonic smile, "his grace has evidently given up pursuing you if he's here looking over the season's crop of debs. You are fortunate to have escaped, in my not so humble opinion."

Aurora could not agree more, although it would have been impolite to say so. She shuddered to think what her life would have been like as Halford's duchess, being forced to follow his counsel and accept his dictates.

When they met upon occasion now, Halford treated her with frosty politeness. For Raven's sake, though, Aurora swallowed her dislike and tried to remain cordial. There was no point in antagonizing him further or making an outright enemy of a nobleman who was a respected figure in the ton.

"Yes, a fortunate escape," Clune added with uncustomary seriousness, "yet you are not so fortunate in love apparently. It is regretful that two of your betrothals should end so unhappily."

Aurora swallowed the sudden ache in her throat and merely nodded. It hurt to remember losing both Geoffrey and Nicholas.

"You must be lonely, with no one to console you. I could easily remedy that, my sweet. I understand Wycliff's to be away on business for some time. Doubtless Lucian would wish me to look out for you in his absence."

"You are too kind, my lord," she murmured wryly. "But there is no need for you to concern yourself with my welfare – or to remain at my side all evening. You should be dancing yourself."

One elegant eyebrow arched. "Do I detect a dismissal, Lady Aurora? I am wounded."

She smiled, doubting she had hurt the practiced libertine in the least. "Surely you realize my dilemma, my lord. It will only arouse comment for me to be seen in your company."

"Very well. I am astute enough to take a hint. I shall look for you on your morning rides in the park, then." With an engaging smile, Clune gave her an elegant bow and turned away in search of more willing prey.

As she watched him go, Aurora found herself reflecting on his comments about her marriage. It was true that most of society thought she had ruined her life. Perhaps her action had been socially disastrous, but she couldn't regret wedding Nicholas Sabine. No matter how gravely he had jolted her life, he had given her a means for independence that she cherished, one she could never have hoped to attain on her own.

And he had changed her in intangible ways as well – more than she would have thought possible after such a fleeting acquaintance. She had never been the daring sort, except perhaps on horseback. Rather she was sensible and proper, suitably conscious of the duty owed her rank and family name.

Yet since her experience with Nicholas, she had become less patient with society's shallow strictures and rigid rules, less willing to be governed by others' expectations. Tonight was a prime example. Before her marriage, she would never have attended a masquerade while in deep mourning, even in disguise.

There was something liberating about thumbing her nose at convention, albeit from behind a mask. And social prestige seemed so unimportant now compared to the life-and-death issues she had faced a few short months ago. While once she had been a respected figure in society, she didn't much lament her loss of stature.

She was now Lady Aurora Sabine. She had kept her title, since it accorded her a certain deference, but she had set up her own household in a small but elegant residence in Mayfair. Raven was staying at her Aunt Dalrymple's town house for the Season, although come summer she would remove to the country to spend time with her grandfather, who was something of a recluse.

Aurora treasured the freedom her own establishment gave her, even if she was ordinarily confined to its small boundaries. Except for her obligation to guide Raven in society, she lived quietly as a bereaved widow. She rode early in the morning when only the most avid horsemen were about, rather than at the fashionable hour of five when the park was crowded with the cream of the ton. When she accompanied her ward shopping – Raven had required an entire new wardrobe to make her come-out – she wore black and kept her face veiled to honor her husband's memory.

Her display of mourning, however, wasn't all pretense. She wanted to accord Nicholas the respect due a beloved husband. She couldn't forget the tender lover who had swept her into unexpected ecstasy and made her a woman, or deny her gratitude for saving her from an unbearable marriage and from her father's dictatorial rule.

Escaping her father's anger and iron control had felt like a heavy yoke being lifted from her shoulders. She was so very grateful for her liberation. Truthfully, she hadn't realized how badly she craved freedom until she'd tasted it. And now that she had, she would never again allow herself to be so thoroughly dominated by any man. She owed Nicholas for that realization and for her newfound strength.

The Frenchwoman's journal, too, had influenced her indefinably. She was no longer the virginal innocent she'd been on her wedding night. The journal had taught her much about the mysteries of passion and helped her to understand the powerful feelings Nicholas Sabine had aroused in her so effortlessly.

For a moment as she remembered him, a poignant ache tightened her throat. It had been four months since Nicholas's death. Four months that she had tried to put him out of her mind. Thoughts of him would intrude at odd times, but each day it was becoming easier to bury her sorrow. Sometimes long hours went by when she didn't think of him at all.

It was the nights when he haunted her dreams…

Aurora squared her shoulders. She would not allow herself to be tormented by memories. She had vowed to make a new future for herself, and she would not look back.

Her life was on an even course now. There was no turmoil, no grief, no dread. No strife stemming from disputes with her father or his violent rages.

She couldn't remember when she had last felt such equanimity. She was content, even happy now. A quiet, uneventful, peaceful existence held a vast appeal after the upheavals in her past.

She did not have to answer to anyone but herself now. She alone was in control of her fate. Finally, finally her life was her own. And that was precisely how she wanted it.

It was perhaps an hour later when Aurora lost track of Raven. Searching the crowd, she finally spied her charge across the ballroom.

Raven was not dancing but stood on the sidelines, conversing with a swashbuckling pirate who sported an eye patch and a sword hanging from his waist sash. Her face was flushed with excitement, and she was laughing and talking animatedly.

Aurora felt her heart catch when she saw the pirate. She didn't actually recognize him, but the sense of familiarity was uncanny. He had the lithe, athletic form of her late husband – the same broad shoulders and narrow hips and long, sinewed limbs. The same aura of danger, of vitality. When he laughed in amusement at something Raven said, his teeth flashed white against his bronzed complexion.

His coloring was quite different from Nicholas's, however. His hair, half hidden by a rakish headscarf, was ebony instead of dark gold.

Aurora raised a hand to her brow. Her mind was playing tricks on her, obviously. Her tender remembrance of Nicholas was making her imagine his ghostly presence.

Just then Raven glanced over her shoulder, as if searching for Aurora. The pirate turned his head slowly, and their gazes locked.

Aurora felt the color drain from her face. For an instant, time ceased to exist, and she was back again in her marriage bed with Nicholas, drowning in his dark, fathomless gaze.

With a whispered oath, Aurora turned and fled.

She found herself in the library, where a lamp had been lit to chase away the gloom. Dizzily she moved toward the sofa and leaned against the high back. Her face felt flushed with perspiration, her pulse erratic.

Pulling off her mask, Aurora bit her lip hard, wondering if she was going mad. She had been unable to forget Nicholas, but she had never before so vividly conjured his image -

"Aurora." The low murmur came from behind her.

She went completely still, memory slicing at her heart. It couldn't be his voice. The man she remembered so poignantly was gone.

"Aurora, look at me."

Slowly she turned around. The pirate was standing there, just inside the room. Dear God, he looked so much like Nicholas… despite his black hair and marauder's attire.

Her fingers gripping the back of the sofa, she squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them again, the image was still there.

"No…" Her denial came out in a hoarse rasp. "You are dead…"

"Not quite, love."

Slowly he removed his eye patch, letting her look fully at his features. She could not have mistaken those eyes. Those dark, beautiful eyes. Nicholas.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

His mouth curved in the faint semblance of a smile. "Aren't you glad to see me, angel?"

Unable to answer or even catch her breath, Aurora raised a hand to her temple. She felt faint with shock, her knees so weak they started to give way. She would have sunk to the floor but for Nicholas. In two strides he had reached her side and grasped her beneath her elbows, lending her his strength. His touch felt very real.

"I don't understand…This can't be."

"It can, Aurora. I am truly here, in the flesh."

She stared back, her gaze riveted on his face. "How…?"

"At the last moment Commander Madsen balked at giving the order to hang me because of a service I had once done a family relation. Instead, he had me transported to Barbados so the British navy could carry out my sentence instead."

"But… I saw your grave…"

"What you saw was a deception, I'm afraid. Percy believed you wouldn't leave unless you were convinced you could do nothing more to save me, so I asked him to feign my burial. He arranged it with Madsen – although he had no notion of the commander's change in plan."

The grave was a deception? Stunned, she searched his face, trying to take in the enormity of the revelation. Nicholas wasn't dead. For a dozen heartbeats she remained unable to speak, her emotions a turmoil of shock and bewilderment… anger at his deceit… joy at seeing him again.

Still not quite believing, she reached up to touch his face. His skin was warm and smooth shaven. His hand closed over hers, holding her palm to his cheek, and for a breathless moment they remained that way, staring at each other.

When another wave of weakness hit her, making her sway, he bent and swept her up in his arms. Aurora suddenly found herself held against a hard male chest. The feel of him was just as startling as his sudden appearance.

She murmured a protest, but Nicholas shook his head. "You should lie down. You've had a shock."

He carried her around the sofa and settled her there, then went down on one knee beside her.

"I'm fine, truly," she murmured as he unfastened the top clasp of her domino.

The further shock of his warm fingers on the bare skin at her throat made her shiver with remembrance. Nicholas seemed aware of it as well, for his hands suddenly went still. He was looking at her breasts, she realized. Abruptly her nipples tightened and pushed against the bodice of her gown in twin, hard peaks.

Her breathing faltered as his heated gaze lifted to her face. "I didn't dream it – how beautiful you are." His voice had fallen to a husky whisper.

Aurora's lips parted, but no sound came out.

Then Nicholas drew an unsteady breath of his own and released her. To her relief, he rose and went to a side table, where he poured her a brandy.

Not wanting to remain in such a vulnerable position, Aurora sat up and smoothed her disheveled clothing. When he returned, Nicholas settled on the sofa beside her and ordered her to drink.

Obediently she took a sip of brandy. The fiery liquor burned her throat, but at least her senses stopped swimming.

"I'm sorry to behave like such a weakling. It's just that…"

"I have come as such a shock?"

"Yes." She frowned, searching his face. "It has been months, Nicholas. Why did I hear nothing of your being alive? I cannot believe Percy never wrote me – "

"I doubt he knew at first. The British navy presumed me drowned at sea, and I thought it best to encourage their belief. It's possible Percy heard rumors later and wrote to warn you, but a letter could have gone astray. Mail is often one of the casualties of war."

Reminded of the deception Nicholas had perpetrated with her cousin, Aurora felt a spark of renewed anger surge through her. He had deliberately made her think him dead, letting her weep over his grave. Letting her grieve for him for months…

"You might have warned me yourself," she said, fire edging her tone. "How could you put me through that – "

"I'm sorry, Aurora. Perhaps I should have tried to get word to you, but the war made it difficult. And at the time I was rather occupied trying to survive."

Aurora shook her head. How could she be angry with Nicholas when he was really, truly alive? Her ire fled as swiftly as it had been born, replaced by a fierce swell of joy. She gazed up at him searchingly, not knowing even where to begin with her countless questions.

Nicholas seemed able to read her mind. "You're curious to know how I escaped hanging?"

"Yes, of course. How did you manage it?"

"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

His kiss, his slightest caress, left me breathless and trembling .

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.

"It has not been so bad, to be truthful," she said. "Your cousin Wycliff was extraordinarily helpful, offering the protection of his name and consequence. And he saw to all the financial particulars, just as you requested of him in your letter. Your settlement was more than generous, Nicholas. It allowed me to purchase a house of my own here in London."

His dark eyes held hers. "But you've come to regret your decision to wed me."

"No." She shook her head. "I don't regret it. You saved me from a repugnant marriage and allowed me independence from my father. It is just that… neither of us intended our union to last. We both thought it would end when… when you…"

"When I died. That still doesn't change the fact that we are legally wed."

A troubled frown creased her brow. "I don't see how we can possibly acknowledge our marriage, even if we wished to. You cannot risk having your identity discovered. Revealing you as my husband would ensure your arrest at the very least, and likely your death."

"I told you, I don't intend to reveal myself. I am here as my cousin Brandon."

"That disguise will be flimsy at best. Even with the change to your hair, you are sure to be recognized."

"I don't think so. I haven't spent much time in England lately. Three years ago I visited for an extended period, but my last trip was very brief."

"Clune remembers you well enough. Just this evening he was recounting tales of your wilder exploits. And he is a very clever man, despite his appearance of indolence."

When Nicholas remained silent, Aurora's gaze raked over his pirate's attire. He wore a black cloak over his tunic now, tied loosely at the neck, but she could see the lethal-looking saber at his side.

"How can you hope to keep your identity secret," she asked, "if you insist on flaunting yourself this way? It was incredibly brazen of you to appear in public dressed as a pirate."

His teeth flashed white in the darkness. "I thought it perfectly appropriate."

Aurora found herself drawing a breath of exasperation at his recklessness. "You cannot be seen with me, Nicholas. I would never be able to explain your presence."

"But you can. You can simply say that I am your late husband's cousin. With such a close familial relationship, our acquaintance will be considered unexceptional."

"You seem to be forgetting one very important matter."

"And what is that?"

"Your sister. You should think of Raven when you contemplate such a rash scheme. If the truth comes out and you're hanged, I, as your wife, would be instantly embroiled in a scandal, and as my ward, Raven would be tarnished by the same brush. Surely you don't want to jeopardize her chances for a good match."

"No. That's the last thing I would want, after going to all this trouble to see her established in society."

She contemplated him for a long moment. "Do you seriously want me for your wife?"

His expression remained enigmatic. "I don't see that I have much choice."

His resignation surprised her. She had expected him to be as eager to find a way out of their dilemma as she was.

"Nicholas," Aurora said slowly, hoping logic would make him reconsider, "we should be sensible about this. There are any number of reasons why a true marriage between us would never work. You are American, and I am English – and our countries are at war. You're an adventurer, one who embraces violence, while I… well, I am not adventuresome in the least, and I abhor any sort of violence. And furthermore, we… we don't love each other."

She hesitated, finding it strangely unsettling to present this last argument. Whatever she felt for Nicholas Sabine was most certainly not love. "I don't love you – any more than you love me. You only wed me for your sister's sake. Marriage should be about love and commitment, not an act of desperation."

His jaw tensed momentarily when she mentioned the word love. But then he relaxed back in his seat with a rueful frown, crossing his arms over his chest and lazily stretching out his long legs. "No, there is no love between us," he admitted.

Unaccountably Aurora winced when Nicholas agreed so readily. It was absurd to feel spurned simply because he disavowed any love for her. A reckless adventurer like Nicholas Sabine was unlikely to give his heart to any woman, particularly one to whom he'd been shackled under duress.

"So you see?" she observed. "There is no point in our trying to remain together. The simple fact remains that I don't wish to be your wife. And you don't truly wish to be my husband."

"There is just one problem," Nicholas said slowly, eyeing her speculatively. "Annulment is not an option, considering that we spent one very passionate night together."

The heated memory of that night flooded Aurora, while her awareness of Nicholas suddenly increased tenfold. His thigh lay alongside hers on the carriage seat; she could feel the heat radiating from his powerful body, seeping into hers.

He must have been remembering the same night, for his intense gaze slowly raked her. She could feel his eyes linger on her breasts, her hips, as if he were imagining exactly what lay beneath her domino and gown.

Aurora flushed, discomfited by the intimacy of his look and by the stark memory it conjured – of Nicholas moving between her thighs, filling her… Her breath caught at the unwelcome arrow of pleasure that shot through her.

Then his gaze lifted to settle on her abdomen. "I gather there was no fruit of our union."

"No," she murmured, unable to prevent a strange prick of disappointment that she didn't carry his child. But she shouldn't regret that outcome in the least. Were she breeding, she would doubtless have far more difficulty convincing Nicholas to free her from their marriage as she hoped to do.

"So…" he said slowly when she remained quiet, "you're proposing that we simply ignore the fact that we have a legal bond between us? That we live separate lives, pretend as if we aren't actually man and wife?"

"Well… I suppose that is what I am proposing. It would be infinitely more satisfactory to us both, more comfortable."

"I think you are forgetting something else, siren," he said softly.

"What?" She looked at him quizzically.

In response he reached out and slid his fingers behind her nape. Slowly, inexorably, he drew her to him, till she was pressed against him, her mouth nearly touching his.

"This…" he murmured as his lips found hers.

His kiss was spellbinding, shortening her breath and tightening her body. It was intimate and sexual and incredibly arousing, kindling a hunger in her that she'd never thought to experience again. She felt herself melting against him…

When finally he left off, it was only to move his lips to her ear. "Ours wasn't a love match," he whispered huskily, "but the attraction between us is real enough. You feel the same fire I do, sweeting. How can we pretend it doesn't exist?"

Dazed from his drugging, claiming kiss, Aurora tried to regain her bearings. Her hands were pressed against Nicholas's chest, while she was nearly draped over him, his body supporting her… and the carriage had slowed to a halt. Dear God…

Alarm rose up in her as she realized they had arrived at their destination, her new home. Any instant now a footman would open the carriage door to help her descend.

Pushing away from Nicholas, she sat up in a panic. "We cannot be seen together like this…"

When she reached for the door handle, Nicholas forestalled her by lightly grasping her wrist.

"Let me go!" she exclaimed in a desperate undertone.

"For now I will, Aurora, but this discussion is far from over."

She didn't respond, instead hurrying from the carriage before her servants could detect the presence of the sensual pirate who was also her husband.

Aurora's maid helped her prepare for bed. By the time she dismissed Nell and retired, it was past midnight, yet she was too restless to sleep. She lay in the darkness, staring at the canopy overhead her mind feverishly occupied with thoughts of Nicholas. Her skin was still flushed from their last encounter, her lips still burning from his kiss.

How was it possible one man could have such a devastating effect on her? How could he wield such emotional power? His mere nearness left her breathless, her senses spinning. His simplest touch aroused her, reminding her of the captivating passion of their wedding night… the same incredible passion that filled the journal.

With an oath, Aurora rolled over, throwing off most of the covers. Her bedchamber was too warm, even though the windows had been left open. She was too warm.

You feel the same fire I do. She had indeed felt the fire he kindled in her so effortlessly. She had fled the carriage in a state of panic because of it, fearing not only discovery but what Nicholas was doing to her. She had left him to his own devices -

A sudden thought struck her. She had failed even to inquire whether he had somewhere to stay for the night. With his cousin Wycliff out of the country, Nicholas would have no assured welcome – But he was an adventurer, a fearless world traveler. He was quite accustomed to caring for himself without her help. She was not responsible for him, even if he was her husband.

Husband. Aurora buried her face in the pillow. Did she have any right to reject him? She was legally bound to him.

Sweet mercy, what was she to do? While she was elated that Nicholas hadn't been hanged, she most certainly did not want him for her husband.

It was alarming to consider such a prospect. She had little doubt he would wreak havoc with her structured, peaceful life, strip away the equanimity she'd finally achieved. Already tonight she had experienced more violent emotion in one night than she'd felt in months – shock, anger, dismay, vexation, fear, joy…

Abruptly Aurora crushed that reflection. Her joy at seeing Nicholas again was nothing more than relief that a courageous man's life had been spared. She was glad he was alive. Even so, she deplored the way he made her feel. He set her nerves on edge with his commanding presence and intense vitality. She couldn't even hold a simple conversation with him with any semblance of equanimity.

She shouldn't have to endure such emotional turmoil in her life, not when she had never asked to become his wife. Logically, she had right on her side. Living together forever as husband and wife was no part of the bargain they'd agreed to.

She didn't want to spend her life with a man she didn't love, who didn't love her. A man who could die at any moment. Nicholas had dismissed the danger of his discovery, much to her dismay and exasperation, but the peril was very real. He was risking his life to remain in England.

She didn't want to live in terror that he would be taken from her. She had already lost Geoffrey – Indeed, she had already lost Nicholas once. She would not go through that despair again.

No, he couldn't possibly remain her husband. She would simply have to make him see reason.

Nicholas studied his sleeping wife in the faint moonlight, contemplating the vision of loveliness she made.

He shouldn't be here, alone with Aurora, in her bedchamber, but he hadn't been able to keep away. Experience at negotiating a ship's rigging had allowed him to make short work of the oak tree outside her window.

He stood over her slumbering form, drinking in her beauty – the ivory complexion, the delicately arched brows, the full lips that were parted slightly in slumber. Her vivid blue eyes were closed now, but her vibrant hair glimmered like spun silver in the moonlit darkness.

My wife. It was incredible to think of her as such.

In the past he had never willingly considered settling down with one woman. His rootless life had left no room for the encumbrance of a wife. He'd always wanted freedom, always had an insatiable thirst for adventure, with danger and excitement his only mistresses. He had never wished for more – until he met Aurora.

Why was she so unique? He'd encountered countless beauties in his travels, in the lavish and licentious kingdoms of Europe, the exotic lands of Africa, the mysterious realms of the East. But none had ever stirred his senses as this woman had the night they were bound together in matrimony. For months now she had haunted his dreams, as enchanting and beguiling as any siren.

Reaching down, he lifted a treasure of gold strands, letting them glide through his fingers. Aurora was well bred and demure and emotionally wary, yet he'd had a tantalizing glimpse of her hidden fire beneath the layers of reserve, an experience he amazingly wanted to repeat.

Slowly, purposefully, Nicholas tangled his hand in her silken hair. He remembered the taste of her, remembered every inch of her skin, every lush curve and hollow. He remembered himself sinking into the silky fire of her…

Desire, heavy and urgent, tightened his body with startling intensity. A desire he couldn't possibly act on just yet.

Reluctantly Nicholas forced himself to release her hair. He couldn't dispute Aurora. They were altogether wrong for each other. And it was indeed dangerous for him to remain in England. They both might be happier if he simply disappeared from her life.

But although he had listened to her logical arguments with all seriousness, none had convinced him it was right to try to sever their marriage vows.

In the first place, Aurora didn't realize the difficulty of ending a fully consummated union. And in the second… the second was the only one that truly counted. His obligation to his father was a stronger reason by far to see this marriage through, Nick acknowledged. He'd sworn he would assume the responsibilities he had neglected for so long, which meant taking a wife and starting a family.

And to be honest, if he had to be shackled to anyone, Aurora was a much more agreeable candidate than most. The physical attraction between them was a stronger basis for a relationship than many wedded couples had. And merely because he was wed didn't mean he had to give up his previous life or cherished freedom entirely.

No, he was resigned to the marriage. He'd had four long months to accustom himself to the idea, while she'd had merely a few hours. Given enough time and persuasion, Aurora would come around to his point of view.

Careful not to wake the sleeping beauty, Nicholas stripped down to his breeches, then joined Aurora on the bed, stretching out beside her.

He wasn't certain if the intimate bonds they'd forged that night were a desperate prisoner's fantasy or something deeper. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter, either, that he would have difficulty convincing Aurora to accept him as her husband.

He had come to England to claim his wife, and he wasn't leaving until he accomplished his goal.

Chapter Nine

His hands on my flesh were magical, caressing and claiming, arousing a fierce desire deep within me.

If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake. The sensual pleasure was so very real… Nicholas at her back, her buttocks nestled in the cradle of his thighs… his heat and hardness searing her through the thin cambric of her nightdress. His hand had delved inside her bodice to fondle her naked breasts, and she could feel her pouting flesh tightening, swelling, thrusting out to seek his touch.

Aurora moaned, yet he relentlessly continued caressing her, kneading softly, his palm rubbing over the sensitive peaks. When she arched instinctively, pressing with wanton eagerness against his stroking palm, his fingers deliberately closed over one nipple, plucking the taut bud. Her throbbing breasts tightened in an aching rush, while a flaming spark of pleasure flared between her thighs.

The shivery desire inside her built higher as he tormented the swollen crest, and she moved restlessly against him, yearning for release from the mounting tension.

As if knowing what she needed, he withdrew his hand from her bodice and swept it lower, over her rib cage, stroking her belly, his breath hot and moist against her cheek as he whispered soft encouragements in her ear. Drawing up the hem of her nightdress then, he slid his hard, warm palm along her thigh, tantalizing on her bare skin.

When his fingers slid into the tangled curls between her legs, Aurora gasped, incredibly aroused by his erotic caresses. His fingertips moved over her with shocking intimacy, parting the feminine folds. Her body grew moist as his expert touch rasped over her most sensitive flesh, finding the exquisite pressure points, stroking her slick bud of pleasure with tantalizing skill. The fever inside her intensified, and the ragged sound she made was one of savage excitement.

Desperately wanting him to assuage the throbbing ache, she thrust her hips back helplessly against his muscular loins, grinding into him.

She heard his rough whisper in her ear, coaxing her to release. "Yes, siren… surrender to the pleasure."

On the verge of ecstasy, she began to writhe, straining toward a mounting, burning frenzy. When his fingers slowly thrust inside her, her deep inner muscles clutched around them. He only increased the rhythm. Frantic with need, she surged against his hand, shuddering and crying out with the powerful, pulsating climax.

Her own sobs woke her. Awash in trembling sensation, Aurora lay dazed and unmoving, her breathing harsh and shallow. For a bewildering moment she was unable to gain her bearings. This was her bedchamber, she could tell in the gray morning light coming through the open curtains. The heat at her back was also very real… and very male, as were the warm lips nuzzling her nape…

Nicholas. She went rigid. His hard, muscular forearm was draped across her body, his hand nestled erotically between her thighs, his rigid arousal still throbbing against her buttocks.

Dear heaven, she hadn't dreamed him. He was in her bed, as if he had every right to be there. He had stolen into her room while she slept, brazenly aroused her to ecstasy…

Her cheeks flamed with mortification as she tried to gather her scattered senses. Almost leaping from the bed, Aurora spun around to face him, totally flustered.

Nicholas was lying on top of the sheet, wearing breeches but nothing else. His cloak and shirt and saber were piled on a chair, she realized, his boots on the floor. His ebony hair was tousled from sleep, while the shadow of stubble on his strong jaw made him look very much a disreputable pirate. More discomfiting, his dark gaze was fixed on the swell of her breasts, partially exposed by the open bodice of her nightdress.

With a muttered oath, Aurora straightened her disheveled bodice and began fastening the buttons, appalled not only by the forbidden liberties Nicholas had taken with her, but by her own unwitting, sensual response.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded, not knowing whether she was angrier at him for his devious seduction or at herself for succumbing to it. She had planned to remain coolly indifferent when they next met, maintaining a strict control over her responses. Yet once again he had thrown her equilibrium totally off balance, casting her emotions into chaos.

Casually Nicholas propped himself up on one elbow and nodded toward the open window. "I apprenticed on my father's ships from the time I was ten and learned to negotiate a rigging. I can certainly climb a tree."

Aurora glanced briefly at the window, then shook her head, unnerved. "Well, you can just leave the same way you came."

When he made no move to go, she snatched up the robe lying on the foot of her bed and put it on, buttoning up the high collar.

"I cannot believe your temerity, coming here and…" She faltered, unwilling to contemplate how he'd kindled her to passion in her sleep, entirely against her will. It was deceitful, taking advantage of her vulnerability when she was helpless to defend herself. She hated being so vulnerable…

Lifting her chin, Aurora made a supreme effort to regain her composure. "You are making," she said, "quite an annoying habit of startling me to death, appearing suddenly and uninvited."

In response, Nicholas sat up and propped the pillows against the headboard, relaxing back among them. "You left your mask in the carriage when you ran away, so I thought I would return it to you. Like Cinderella's slipper."

Aurora couldn't help but stare at him, unwillingly admiring his bronzed skin and naked, muscled shoulders. She clenched her teeth, vexed at the way his physical attributes made her breathless. His knowing gaze irked her even more. He understood quite well the effect his near nudity had on her.

It was all she could do to keep her tone cool. "That hardly excuses your gall in sneaking into my room like a thief. You seem determined to cause a scandal – "

"I'm only determined to talk to you, love. We never finished our discussion about our future relationship."

"Well, my bedchamber is not the place to do it!"

"I'm not sure I agree with that," he murmured in a velvet undervoice laced with humor. "I can think of few places more enjoyable."

"Nicholas, you have to leave. Now, at once! Before I have you thrown out."

His expression turned thoughtful. "I must confess, I expected a more cordial reception than this from my wife. On our wedding night you were much warmer."

"On our wedding night, I thought you were about to die. We both thought so."

"You can't deny the fire we both felt that night."

"I can!" Aurora drew a measured breath, striving for control. "If we felt anything at all between us then, it was only an illusion… brought on by the despair of the moment."

"No," Nicholas said slowly. "It was very real, sweetheart. I didn't imagine it. And you are the same sensual, responsive woman I remember from that night. I know that now for a certainty."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she recalled just how wantonly she had responded to his erotic caresses moments ago.

She might have argued with him further but for the soft rap on the door. Aurora froze, watching in horror as her bedchamber door started to open.

In three strides she was across the room, pushing the door shut again.

"My lady," a female voice called through the oak paneling. "I've brought your morning chocolate."

"One moment," Aurora replied, almost frantic as she tried to think what to do. If the maid were to find Nicholas here, she would have no shred of reputation left.

Spinning, Aurora moved quickly over to the bed and yanked the bed curtains closed, concealing Nicholas behind the ivory brocade. She heard his soft chuckle as she returned to open the door, and had to grit her teeth at his misplaced humor. How could he put her in such a vulnerable position and laugh about it?

Stepping back, she allowed the maid to enter the room. Her heart hammering, Aurora tried not to glance at the bed curtains as the girl set the breakfast tray down on the bedside table.

"Thank you, Molly. You may go now."

"Yes, my lady."

With a curtsey, the maid left the room, and Aurora firmly bolted the door behind her.

"Is it safe yet?" Nicholas asked, his tone husky with laughter.

"Keep your voice down," she demanded in a fierce whisper. "The servants will hear you." She pulled open the curtains to find him lounging negligently on the bed, his dark eyes dancing. His audacity riled her to no end.

"There is no need for panic, Aurora."

"That is easy for you to say. It isn't your reputation that will be in shreds if a strange man is found in your bed."

"If a man were found in my bed, I expect my reputation would suffer no small amount. But there is little chance of that happening, since I am inordinately fond of women."

"Nicholas, this is not in the least amusing!"

"Oh, I think it is. I find it fascinating to see you in a passion. It requires work to make you lose that cool, regal air of yours."

Aurora raised her eyes to the ceiling, struggling for patience. "Will you put your clothes on and go away?"

"Where do you expect me to go?"

She controlled her vexation long enough to give him a quizzical look. "Don't you have somewhere to stay?"

"And if I said no? Would you take pity on me and invite me to live here with you?"

"I would have my butler help you to find lodgings," Aurora said repressively.

"You needn't trouble yourself, love."

"Seriously, where are you staying?"

"Aboard ship at the moment. But the docks are too far away for convenience, so I mean to take rooms at a hotel. I thought of staying with Wycliff – Brand claims a slight acquaintance with him – but Lucian is out of town, and the coincidence would only invite suspicion."

"I should think so," Aurora said in a tart undervoice. "You are mad even to be in this country. You are going to get yourself killed."

Ignoring her prediction, Nicholas glanced around the room. "This is a handsome bedchamber – I imagine the entire house is. You said you purchased it with your marriage settlement?"

"Yes." She gave him a questioning look. "You don't mean to go back on your word and nullify the settlement, do you?"

"Not at all. You earned it with your services to my sister."

"Yet you seem intent on destroying all my efforts on her behalf – and on giving me heart failure in the process."

"No, sweeting. I only want to talk. There is still the minor matter of our marriage to be resolved." He patted the mattress beside him. "Sit here beside me."

Aurora eyed him warily. "Surely you don't expect me to trust you after what you just did?"

"I thought you didn't wish the servants to hear. They will, you know, if I have to shout at you across the room."

His amused look suggested a reckless disregard for the consequences of discovery, but she didn't care to put his rashness to the test. With extreme reluctance, Aurora perched on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Very well, you may talk."

He contemplated her for a moment. "You seem eager to forget that you still have a husband."

"I am eager. I never expected this complication in our relationship, you must realize that."

"I do."

"I fulfilled my side of our bargain, Nicholas. You know quite well that lifetime commitment was no part of it. Our agreement was for one night only."

"So it was."

"Ours was to be a marriage of convenience, merely that."

"And it is no longer convenient for you."

"Or for you, either, I'm sure. You never wanted me for your wife."

"I think I could be persuaded to change my mind."

She gave him a startled look.

"We never had the chance to know each other," Nicholas said slowly. "To see if we would suit."

"The answer to that is quite obvious. You know very well we would never suit. You would never be happy with me – nor I with you. I could never fit into your world, among pirates and adventurers, on board a fighting ship. I would never feel comfortable with that kind of existence."

"I was considering settling down after the war ends."

"In America?"

"Yes. My home is in Virginia. My mother and sisters live there."

"What are you saying? That you want me to give up my life and return there as your wife?"

"I expect you would have to, since I obviously cannot remain in England."

Her gaze turned troubled. "This is my home, Nicholas. I have no desire to leave the only life I've known, to live in America among strangers. The war between our countries could last for years, and who knows when I could ever return here, or even see my family and friends."

"I didn't think you were overly fond of your family."

"I am not. But that is not really the issue. What frightens me most is the violent life you lead, the dangerous risks you take. I couldn't bear waiting for you to come home from some far off land, not knowing if I would ever see you again, or if you had been killed. Look at the peril you are in now. You are a condemned man. You could be arrested and executed at any moment." She shook her head. "I have already mourned you once. I won't go through that again."

He remained silent, his dark eyes searching hers.

"There must be another solution," Aurora said finally. "One that doesn't entail us living together as man and wife."

"The only way I know of to dissolve our union is through divorce."

Aurora felt the color fade from her face. Divorce, even if one could be secured – which would be extremely difficult – would ruin her. "A divorce would be disastrous for me. It would brand me a pariah in society. I could never show my face in polite company again."

"Perhaps," he said musingly, "I could try to have an American court declare the marriage invalid. I might have a case, since I was compelled to wed under duress."

"Couldn't we simply go on as if you had never returned?" she asked earnestly. "What would be the harm in leading separate lives?"

He studied her for a moment. "You realize that as long as we're wed, neither of us can ever marry again?"

"I have no desire ever to marry. Once was enough." She saw his eyebrow lift and bit her lip. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's only that I suffered a great despair when I thought you dead, and I don't wish ever to endure that again. I vowed I would forget my loss and make a new life for myself. And I have thus far."

"I have a question," Nicholas said slowly. "Suppose we do remain legally bound. What happens if either of us should fall in love with someone else? You would certainly want to be free of the marriage then."

"There is little chance of my falling in love again. I loved Geoffrey for most of my life, and I don't believe I could ever love any man but him. But even if I could, I am determined I will never give my heart again. It is too painful to lose someone I care for."

Nicholas clenched his jaw for an instant, but then his mouth relaxed in a faint smile. "Have you considered my perspective? What if I come to love someone else?"

That possibility gave her an unaccountable jolt, but she dismissed it with a skeptical look. A rake like Nicholas Sabine was not likely to fall in love. "I doubt that will happen, but I will make you a promise. If you ever do find someone else to love, I will free you from our marriage. I'll agree to an annulment or a divorce – whatever it takes to end our union."

"So for now we do nothing?"

"Yes," she said, relieved that he intended to be reasonable. "In public we can pretend the other doesn't exist – "

"I am supposed to be your cousin by marriage. It would look odd if we failed to at least speak when we meet in public."

"Well, perhaps we could acknowledge the acquaintance in public."

"What about in private?"

"There is no reason for us to have any private contact." She gave him a stern look. "Or any contact at all. Indeed, I don't know why you are even considering remaining in England. You would do better to leave at once. If you remain, you will only get yourself killed. I couldn't bear that, Nicholas."

"Thank you for your concern, sweetheart, but I don't intend to die any time soon."

"You didn't intend to be imprisoned or sentenced to hang four months ago, either."

Nicholas cocked his head as he regarded her. "There is one other aspect we haven't considered. Carnal relations. If you and I are still wed, we cannot take other lovers without committing adultery."

Aurora felt her cheeks color. He wanted other lovers? Why that should bother her, she couldn't fathom. It would be unnatural for a man of Nicholas's lusty nature to give up carnal pleasures. And she would have no right to demand fidelity from him in any case, not if she asked to be free of their vows.

She forced a smile, attempting to sound worldly. "I understand many married men have affairs. I would have no objection to you seeking out other women or keeping a mistress if you wish."

"And what of you?" His intent gaze held hers.

"You needn't concern yourself with me on that score. I don't intend to take any lovers."

"A lifetime is a long time to remain celibate, especially for a woman as passionate as I know you to be."

She stood up abruptly, uncomfortable with the intimate turn of the conversation. "That reminds me. You entrusted me with another mission…"

She went to her dressing table and drew out the jewel-encrusted journal, which was carefully wrapped in oilcloth. "Raven's mother left this for you. It is the book your father gave her."

When she handed the package to Nicholas, he opened it curiously. "An expensive gift, obviously," he murmured.

"So it would seem – and rather old."

"What is it about?"

"It is a journal, written by a Frenchwoman who was enslaved in a Turkish pasha's harem."

After reading the title, Nicholas thumbed through a few pages, then shot Aurora a glance. "You've read this?"

"Yes." She felt herself blushing again. "I wanted to see if it was appropriate for Raven. It most certainly is not."

"I would say not," he observed, giving her a long, vaguely amused look. "I doubt your upbringing prepared you for anything this erotic, either."

"Of course it didn't," Aurora replied. She had been shocked by the explicitness and sensual detail of the journal… and yet captivated at the same time. Against her better judgement, her breeding, even her will, she had found herself drawn into the beautiful, erotic recounting of the Frenchwoman's love affair with her master, a tale of smoldering passion, so vividly told. She had actually read the journal more than once. She knew some passages by heart, although she had no intention of admitting it to Nicholas.

"Now that you are here," she told him, "I can turn it over to you. You can be the one to decide when Raven is old enough to have it."

"I look forward to reading it with great anticipation. Now, where were we in our discussion?"

"We had concluded our discussion."

"Not quite," Nicholas said. "Before you changed the subject, I was remarking on your passionate nature, you will recollect. I was saying that I don't imagine you'll be happy remaining celibate your entire life."

Her discomfort returned in full measure, as did her vexation with Nicholas. A discussion of such private issues was wholly out of bounds, despite his apparent belief that he had a right to such intimacy.

Aurora gave him her coolest glance. "I believe that is entirely my concern, Nicholas. I also believe that I have discharged my promise to you, and that we have said all there is to say. It is time now for you to go."

"Not yet."

She tensed. "What do you mean, not yet?"

"Before you take a vow of celibacy, you should consider what you are rejecting. Come here, Aurora."

Her look turned wary. "Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you."

"You must be jesting."

"Not at all. We started off on the wrong foot last night, with my reproaching you for forgetting your widowhood. I would like to make up for it."

Nervously Aurora backed up a step. "There is no need for you to do anything but leave, Nicholas. Immediately. You have no right to be here – "

"Actually, I do. I am your husband. The law gives a husband the right to share his wife's bed."

"You are not my husband. In the eyes of the world, I was widowed four months ago."

"Need I remind you how curious your servants would be to find me here?" His half smile irked her almost as much as his veiled threat. "I have only to call out and they will come running."

"You wouldn't dare. You would never risk exposing your identity."

His eyebrow lifted, as if to ask whether she wanted to test her theory.

Resolving to call his bluff, Aurora put her hands on her hips in defiance. "Now that I think of it, I could report you to any number of governmental authorities. I expect the navy would be eager to recapture an escaped pirate."

A gleam lit his dark eyes. "I don't think you will turn me in. You don't want to see my neck stretched on the gallows."

Her frustration reached the boiling point. What she wanted was to wipe that knowing look off Nicholas's handsome face. It was utterly underhanded to use her concern for him as leverage to force her to do as he wished.

She couldn't possibly expose him, though. Not only because she was desperate to avoid the scandal that would ensue if he was found in her bedchamber, but because she couldn't bear to see any harm come to Nicholas. She nearly stamped her foot in vexation.

"You know very well I cannot denounce you," she finally muttered. "I don't want your death on my conscience."

"I knew you were a compassionate woman."

"Well, I thought you were a gentleman," Aurora retorted, infuriated by his reckless, irresistible charm.

"I am a gentleman."

"You most certainly are not. A gentleman would honor his promise."

"Which promise was that?" Nicholas asked, a lazy fire in his eyes. "The one regarding our union, where I pledged to love and cherish my bride?"

"The one where we agreed to one night of marriage."

"One night wasn't enough," he said softly.

"It will have to be. I don't intend to play the wanton with you."

Nicholas held out his hand. "Come here and kiss me, Aurora, before I decide to raise my voice."

She glared at him. "This is blackmail!"

"So it is."

"You are despicable."

"And you are as beautiful as I remember… more so, since the sadness in your eyes is gone. Come here. I won't claim my marital rights. I only want a kiss."

The velvet edge in his voice didn't reassure her in the least. Yet he might very well reveal his presence to her servants unless she did as he wanted. "One kiss, and then you will go?"

"If you insist."

"You swear it?"

"Unequivocally."

Every muscle in her body stiff, Aurora unwillingly complied. When she moved to stand beside the bed, however, Nicholas made no attempt to kiss her. Instead he took her hand.

Gazing up at her, he drew her forefinger completely into his mouth and suckled. A treacherous heat radiated suddenly from the pit of Aurora's stomach, and she had to stifle a gasp.

"You said one kiss," she said through clenched teeth.

"You can't deny the pleasure you feel," he murmured. "Your heart is beating much too rapidly for you to claim disinterest."

"Will you please just get on with it?"

"So impatient," Nicholas replied lightly.

He drew her down and pressed her back upon the bed, then eased his body over hers. She could feel the strength of him against her – the powerful granite of his thighs, the flat, hard belly, the muscles rippling in his chest and shoulders.

He remained that way for a long moment, gazing down into her eyes, his fingers cradling her cheek.

"Well?" Aurora demanded breathlessly, trying to ignore the temptation of his beautiful mouth.

"Sheathe your claws, siren. I only want to remind you of what you would be missing… the pleasure to be found in my arms," he whispered before his lips lowered to cover hers.

Chapter Ten

The strength of his desire alarmed me. Yet I was more frightened of myself, of the fierce desire he stirred within me .

Hunger ran rampant through Nicholas as he drank of Aurora's trembling mouth. Her lips were incredibly soft, her warmth feeding his senses like flame.

When she stirred restlessly beneath him, his hand closed in the silk of her hair, holding her still for his kiss, his tongue thrusting slow and deep, penetrating in a blatant imitation of what he yearned to do between her thighs.

In only moments, she was pressing against his fully aroused body, her hips rocking against his, seeking his hardness. He felt a surge of triumph at her helpless response. When she moaned softly, Nicholas shuddered, so swollen with need he felt near to bursting.

Yet he was the one who broke off the kiss. In an agony of desire, he rolled over onto his back, breathing harshly. He had vastly overestimated his control, he knew that now.

Draping an arm over his forehead, Nick sucked in a deep breath. He was still aching, his hardened shaft cramping beneath his breeches. But he didn't dare continue kissing Aurora. It had been a mistake even to touch her.

Beside him, she unsteadily rose up on her elbow, her hair sliding over her shoulders in an untamed fall of pale gold. She looked shaky, uncertain, as she gazed at him with wonder and concern in her wide blue eyes. She'd felt the same powerful forces that he had, he knew. The pure carnal desire. The raw, primal need that still throbbed through him. The intense, heart-wrenching feeling of intimacy that he'd never experienced with any other woman.

Oh, yes, the bond between them was very real.

"You can't pretend," he murmured, his voice edged with hoarseness, "that there is nothing between us."

"That… was only lust."

"Four months is indeed a long time for a man to be without a woman," he said wryly. "But I've endured longer abstinences. And my lust doesn't explain your response, dearheart. Come now, admit it. You wanted more than a kiss from me."

Her hand rose to her lips, still lush and wet from his kiss, and another fierce ache surged through Nicholas. The temptation to take her was so great, he had to lock his jaw against the yearning inside him.

He had best leave, before his resistance shattered, before he gathered Aurora in his arms and ravished her till they were both too exhausted to care about such matters as scandal and mortal danger.

Untangling himself, Nick rose and began to dress, aware that she was watching him warily.

"You really are leaving?" Aurora asked finally as he shrugged into his tunic.

"I said I would."

Evidently she didn't trust him to keep his word about settling for merely a kiss. And she clearly was still troubled about their situation.

"But what about our marriage, Nicholas? You do agree that we should not try to carry on as husband and wife? That we should live separate lives?"

Now wasn't at all a good time to admit he intended to claim her for his wife. "That does seem the best option at the moment."

He could almost sense her relief. His response evidently emboldened her to remark further.

"I do wish you would reconsider remaining in England and return home."

"My business here isn't yet concluded," Nicholas replied – not really a lie; Aurora was his business. He started to tie his costume's sash around his waist, but changed his mind. "I will, however, leave my sash and saber in your keeping. A pirate wandering the streets might arouse suspicion."

"It might indeed," Aurora replied with a renewed tartness. "You are bound to be discovered if you insist on this mad impersonation."

He flashed her a bold grin and finished dressing. When he had flung his cloak around his shoulders, tying the cords loosely at his throat, she was still regarding him with disapproval.

Nicholas hesitated. This was the first time in his life he could remember leaving a woman's bed without first finding satisfaction – or fully giving it. And this woman was his wife. With her sleep-tousled hair and passion-bruised lips, Aurora was so beautiful it made him ache.

He couldn't help himself. Returning to the bed, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard.

"Nicholas!" she exclaimed breathlessly, drawing back. "You promised you would leave!"

"Lower your voice, love, or the servants will hear," he warned. "That was only a farewell kiss. It might be days before we even speak again."

He picked up the journal and tucked it inside the pocket of his cloak. Going to the window then, he eased himself up to sit on the sill and swung his legs over.

With one last, lingering look, he disappeared.

Aurora fell back on the bed, relief flooding her, her heart still beating violently from his kiss, her body throbbing with the restless yearning he'd kindled in her.

It frightened her, the tumult of emotions Nicholas aroused in her so effortlessly: exasperation, anger, exhilaration, desire…

He was not the kind of man for which a woman could hope to maintain indifference. He was unpredictable, bold, threatening. The kind of man who would overwhelm a woman with passion, with desire, with need. Who would command her heart as well as her body.

He demanded my surrender, body and soul.

Aurora shuddered, remembering the passage from the journal that so perfectly described the danger the Frenchwoman had been forced to face. Desiree had become a captive in more than physical terms; against her will she had lost her heart to her strong, vital, compelling prince.

Nicholas was just as compelling, just as dangerous as the journal's prince. His touch as sensual and magical.

Aurora's hand rose to her breast, the burning memory of his caresses still vivid in her mind. She was so very vulnerable to him. As her husband, Nicholas had the right to such intimacies, and more. Yet she didn't dare give him any further chance to take the brazen liberties he had last night. She couldn't afford even to allow him near her. She could no longer trust him. More damning, she could no longer trust herself.

When they had wed, she'd thought Nicholas an honorable man, but he obviously had no qualms about subterfuge or deception – evidenced by his previous ruse where he'd fabricated his burial, or his current fraud, assuming his cousin's identity. And he had stolen into her room and conducted an intimate, sensual assault on her while she slept…

A traitorous heat flushed her body at the remembrance, along with renewed anger at his gall.

She had countless reasons to be angry with Nicholas. Not only did he lack scruples, not only was he recklessly endangering his life and courting scandal, but he was acting as if he owned her – and using threats and extortion to gain his way.

Having lived with her father's black temper for so long, she deplored such violent emotions as anger, but in Nicholas's case, she welcomed it, indeed wanted to nurture it. As long as she could sustain that dark sentiment, she could hold any softer feelings for him at bay.

At least she had persuaded him to give up claiming her as his wife. Yet she couldn't congratulate herself. Even though he'd agreed they would maintain separate lives, she was certain she hadn't seen the last of Nicholas Sabine.

The hour was still early when Nicholas reached the mews near Lady Dalrymple's house, where the cream of Mayfair's pleasure and carriage horses were stabled. The cobblestone yard of the livery was bustling – lads grooming and saddling mounts and ostlers harnessing curricles for morning jaunts.

Nick had arranged to meet his sister there, but while he saw no sign of Raven, he soon caught sight of the Irish stablehand who had accompanied her from the Caribbean. O'Malley was leading out a large ebony Thoroughbred and a stockier groom's mount, both saddled for riding.

Intent on testing his disguise, Nicholas paused beside the Irishman. "I would like to hire an equipage for a few weeks," he remarked casually, "and perhaps a hack as well. Can you direct me to the proprietor?"

O'Malley, a hulking, gray-haired brute of a fellow, gave Nicholas a cursory glance. Evidently seeing a gentleman, he tipped his hat politely. "You'll be wanting Mr. Dobbs in that case, sir. You'll find him in the office at the end of the next aisle."

"Thank you." Nicholas hesitated, studying the black horse. "Magnificent animal. Your mistress always did have an eye for good horseflesh."

His gray head snapping up, O'Malley stared at him hard. "‘Tis a ghost I'm seeing, I'll be thinking," he said slowly.

Nick's mouth crooked in a smile. "No ghost, O'Malley. I bear a resemblance to a certain American pirate who wasn't hanged after all."

The look of amazement on his ruddy face turned to one of delight. "Well, I'll be a bleedin‘ – " He broke off with a sheepish grin. "Beg pardon, guv'nor. I never would have known you with your hair so dark."

"That is precisely my intention," Nicholas said. "I am here in England as Sabine's cousin from Boston, Mr. Brandon Deverill. I calculate that if I can slip by you with your keen eye, I should be able to fool anyone else who might have an acquaintance with me."

"Ah… I see. If you say so, sir. Does Miss Raven know the happy news?"

"I surprised her last night at her aunt's ball, but we had only a moment together. She's to meet me here shortly so we can have the chance to speak alone."

Always a clever man, O'Malley understood at once the need for discretion. "I'll be taking Satan back to his stall then, if it pleases you, sir. You can talk there, like you're looking him over for purchase."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the horse, who was standing docilely and mouthing the bit. "Satan?"

"He's a handful, aye, but for Miss Raven, he's a lamb. He belongs to Lady Aurora." At Nick's skeptical look, the Irishman grinned. "‘Tis true. Her ladyship prefers a bit of the devil in her horseflesh, too. And she's as fine a horsewoman as I've ever seen."

Nicholas digested that statement with surprise: the compliment was high praise coming from a man like O'Malley, who had practically been born on horseback.

"Lady Aurora," O'Malley added, "chose this fellow for Miss Raven when her aunt wanted to mount her on a plodder. Satan right snorted fire when she first tried him, but you know her. Never was a horse Miss Raven couldn't tame. The London gentlemen are the same way."

"So I understand," Nicholas said with wry amusement.

" ‘Tis working just the way she planned – and the way her guardian, Mr. Sabine, wanted."

"Thank you for watching over her so well, O'Malley. I'm certain you have Sabine's undying gratitude."

The Irishman gave a hearty laugh. "Well, you should know, you being his cousin and all. If you'll please to come with me, sir…" He tugged on his cap again and led the horses back to their stalls.

O'Malley made Raven an estimable protector, Nicholas reflected as he followed. His fears regarding her welfare had diminished greatly after seeing how ably the Irishman and Aurora were caring for her.

Raven made an appearance in only a few moments. A trifle breathless, she entered the stall and, without pausing, threw her arms around Nick's neck in a strangling hug.

"No need to choke me, pet," he said, laughing as he pried himself from her grasp.

"It is either that or shoot you," Raven retorted. When she drew back, however, her blue eyes were sparkling. "You do deserve to be shot, Nicholas. You have no conception of how I grieved for you – and Aurora, too. I've lived with such guilt, believing I got you killed. Why did you never send us word?"

"I was a trifle occupied at the time, getting out of the fix the British navy had devised for me and then preparing to come after you. And I felt sure you would have learned the news from someone on the islands."

"We never did, Nicholas."

He shook his head warningly. "I'll thank you to practice calling me Mr. Deverill in private, sweetheart, so you won't forget in public. Since Sabine was your guardian, his cousin would be only distantly connected to you."

"Ah, yes, I will have to remember."

"In fact, we should not be seen together in private at all."

A frown creasing her brow, she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder. O'Malley had taken up a position outside the stall's half door along with his mount, screening her and Nicholas from prying eyes.

"I sent my maid home just now," Raven said in a concerned voice, "so she wouldn't see me talking to you, but I didn't consider the danger to you… It is quite dangerous for you even to be in England, isn't it?"

"There is the possibility that I might be apprehended as an escaped prisoner, yes."

"Why ever did you come here then?"

"I wanted to see how my hoyden of a sister fared, of course," Nicholas said teasingly. He surveyed her stylish riding habit of forest green velvet critically. With her vivacity and fresh beauty, Raven didn't look as if she'd risen unfashionably early after dancing half the night away. "From all appearances, you are doing quite well for yourself."

Her smile was wry. "Better than well. You would be proud of me, Nick… ah, Mr. Deverill. I recall you once said teaching me to behave with decorum would be like trying to turn a wild filly into a lady's mount. Well, I am quite tame now. Of course, a good deal of the credit goes to Aurora."

"Indeed?"

"I don't know what I would have done without her, truly. She is extremely accomplished and so highly regarded… You couldn't have chosen anyone better to advise me. With her guidance, I've been able to face society's lions without being devoured alive. And if I am not betrothed by the end of the Season to an earl at the very least, I shall be very disappointed."

His amused expression sobered. "You're certain you can be happy with a cold-blooded marriage to an earl?"

Raven's blue eyes turned just as sober. "My happiness is beside the point. Mama wished me to make an advantageous match and marry into the nobility, and I won't fail her, Nicholas. As for cold-blooded, you know I have never wanted love. I won't make the same mistake Mama made, letting passion destroy my life, pining after a man even on my deathbed. And besides, being the mistress of my own household will be far preferable to living under my Aunt Dalrymple's thumb, where I cannot say two words without being reprimanded."

The stubborn set of her jaw gave way to a smile. "Thank heavens for Aurora. She has been so genuinely kind, and she shares my love of horses. I'm to meet her in the park for a gallop in a short while…But enough about me, Nicholas. Tell me, how did Aurora take the news of your reincarnation?"

"She wasn't quite as delighted as you were," he said dryly.

"Only because she doesn't know you well enough yet." Raven's eyes grew wide. "Oh, my word, do you mean to take her back to America with you as your bride?"

Nicholas hesitated. "We haven't worked out our future yet. I imagine Aurora needs time simply to get over her shock at my reappearance."

"But you mean to claim her?"

"That is still in question," he admitted, not wanting to sound overconfident in his powers of persuasion.

"Your marriage was legal, was it not?"

"Entirely. But the issue is more complex than mere legality. Our marriage was supposed to be only temporary. I'm not certain Aurora wants me for a lifetime – or that she thinks I would make very good husband material. I'm known far more for my wild adventures than my stable respectability."

"Yes, but I remember you saying it was nearing time for you to settle down as your father wished. And I think any woman would be fortunate to have you for a husband," Raven declared loyally.

"But then you are prejudiced on my behalf, puss."

"I suppose." She frowned. "Well, you will simply have to persuade her. It shouldn't be impossible. Aurora is quite independent minded, but no one has more ruthless charm than you do. You managed to convince me to forgive my English relatives for the horrible way they treated Mama, when that was the last thing I wanted."

"We'll see," Nicholas said noncommittally.

"I do hope… well, I would like to see Aurora happy. I'm certain she is lonely, being confined to her house for days on end due to her mourning. Your presence here will at least offer her a diversion. How long do you plan to stay?"

"I haven't yet decided. A few weeks, perhaps. The news of my escape will reach England sooner or later, and with a price on my head, the risk of discovery will be greater." His sister's expression grew concerned, but he forestalled her comment. "You had best be off on your ride, Miss Kendrick, before we invite comment."

Raven nodded reluctantly. "Where can I find you if I should need to speak to you?"

"I intend to take rooms at the Clarendon."

She kissed his cheek, then gave him a saucy smile as she accepted the Thoroughbred's reins to lead it from the stall. "Perhaps I will see you in the park some morning, Mr. Deverill!"

Nicholas found himself smiling fondly as he watched her leave. When he was alone, however, his smile faded. As was her nature, Raven had gone straight to the heart of the matter: whether or not he and Aurora intended to acknowledge their marriage.

For a moment he wondered if he should reconsider his plan to claim her as his wife. He wanted Aurora physically; there was no longer the slightest doubt in his mind. Kissing her this morning had been as stunningly sensual as four months ago, when he'd taken her luscious, virginal body in their marriage bed. The hunger he'd felt for her then hadn't diminished in the least; if anything, the craving was stronger.

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

He challenged my heart, daring me to open myself to passion.

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!"

"I am not the one who is railing like a termagant in public, love."

"I am not railing."

"No?"

There was a maddening undertone of enjoyment in his voice, and Aurora regretted that she was too well-bred to box his ears and that she held such a strong aversion to physical violence. Instead, she took a deep breath and bit her tongue, vowing not to allow herself to be provoked.

It was hard, however, when Nicholas seemed determined to stir up trouble.

"Speaking of your acquaintances…" he said thoughtfully. "If I'm not mistaken, there is one now."

Glancing farther down the Row, Aurora recognized the approaching horseman as the Earl of Clune. Her heart seemed to falter. "Oh, my word… Clune. He is one of your acquaintances as well. He told me you were once a member of his Hellfire League."

"For a short while I was, during my visit here three years ago. What of it?"

"He is sure to recognize you. You should leave at once, Nicholas, before he sees you."

"I told you, I have no intention of hiding."

"You can't possibly mean to show yourself to him!"

"You will remember that I am Brandon Deverill, your cousin by marriage. There should be no problem. Smile, love, and pretend you are enjoying my company."

It was too late to do anything else, Aurora realized, since Clune was nearly upon them. He flashed his charming rake's smile as he drew his mount to a halt before her.

"Ah, the most beautiful widow in London," he said with a graceful bow. "And the most accomplished horsewoman, as well. The combination is entrancing."

"My Lord Clune," Aurora murmured, acknowledging the acquaintance with a polite nod of her head.

"I don't believe I need ask the outcome of your race this morning, since you always win."

She made a supreme effort not to look at Nicholas as she tried to play down the race. "My horses enjoy the exercise."

"But your competition could be stronger. Perhaps some morning you might prefer a challenger other than your ward. I would be happy to offer my services whenever you wish."

At his wickedly suggestive tone, Aurora felt like squirming in her saddle. His lordship was clearly flirting with her. "Thank you, my lord, but I am quite content riding with my ward."

She had hoped he would move on without noticing Nicholas, but Clune's gaze turned to him next.

"Have we met before? You bear a strong resemblance to someone I know. This lady's late husband, I believe."

Aurora held her breath, while Nicholas smiled coolly. "That is not surprising, since I am Sabine's cousin. Brandon Deverill, at your service, sir."

"The likeness is remarkable."

Nicholas met his gaze directly. "So I am told."

Aurora was unnerved by how closely Clune was studying him. But his lordship merely bowed and offered his condolences. "An excellent sportsman and comrade, your cousin Nick. As game as they come. I was sorry to hear of his death, for I grew quite fond of him during our brief acquaintance. You are an American, Mr. Deverill?"

"By birth, yes. But since my political leanings don't quite coincide with my government's, I thought it judicious to take refuge in England until the war ends."

"You might find your acceptance here rather tricky, especially since your cousin was hanged for piracy."

"I believe Lord Wycliff will vouch for me if you have concerns about my loyalties."

"No, no concerns." Clune's mouth curled in a wry smile. "I have few political leanings at all. But if you find you have need of patronage other than Wycliff's, I should be happy to claim your acquaintance, in remembrance of my late friend Nick."

Nicholas's response was far cooler than Aurora expected. "That is generous of you, sir. I shall keep your offer in mind."

Clune turned and smiled his charming smile at Aurora. "Well, I will let you ride on. You won't want your horse to stand any longer. But I hope you will keep my other offer in mind, my lady. If you care to race some morning, I will be delighted to oblige."

Aurora murmured a noncommittal reply, and felt relief flooding her when Clune spurred his horse and rode past them.

She and Nicholas resumed riding along the Row. Aurora was fuming, appalled by his brazen disregard for his life, but she forced herself to wait until they were out of earshot of the earl.

"What do you call that, if not flaunting your existence?" she demanded, her concern making her sound sharper than normal.

"I call it establishing my cover. Clune knows me better than almost anyone in England. If he didn't recognize me, then I doubt anyone else will."

"I call it barefaced effrontery. You looked him in the eye and lied."

"Would you rather I risked telling him the truth?"

Nettled, she lapsed into silence.

"He seems overly attentive to you, my love. Perhaps I should remind you again, you are not a widow – and never were."

She was too vexed to realize Nicholas's good humor had faded. "I do not need reminding."

"I think you do. Clune is one of the premier rakes of England, and he sees you as fair game."

Aurora's chin lifted stubbornly. "I will not allow you to dictate to me, Nicholas. I wed you chiefly so I wouldn't have to endure a husband who prescribed my every action, like Halford. You sound just like him – or my father."

The set of Nicholas's jaw seemed to soften. "I did not mean to pick a fight, Aurora."

"No? You are giving an extremely good imitation of it."

"It's not unreasonable for a man to be possessive of his wife."

"You cannot possibly be jealous?"

"Perhaps I am. But I advise you to keep Clune at a distance."

"I have no intention of letting you choose my friends for me, Nicholas."

He drew his horse to a halt. "Then I had best speak to Clune myself."

She looked startled. "Why?"

"So I can warn him to keep away from my wife."

Aurora stared at him, alarming visions running through her head. She had forgotten that Nicholas Sabine was a dangerous man. By his own admission, he had killed before. Did he intend to threaten Clune? Menacing a peer of the realm was a certain way to jeopardize his own life. He could be caught and hanged…

"You cannot harm him, Nicholas."

"Your concern for him is touching, love," Nicholas said coolly.

With a polite bow, he turned his horse around and rode away, leaving Aurora to stare after him, a very unladylike oath trembling on her lips.

Aurora remained in the park far longer than usual, anxiously awaiting Nicholas's return, but she saw no sign of either him or Clune. When she finally gave up and went home, she found herself pacing the floor worriedly.

She was startled when late that afternoon her butler brought her an engraved calling card bearing the name of Brandon Deverill and informed her that Mr. Deverill was delighted to accept her invitation to tea.

It was with both relief and trepidation that she went downstairs to meet Nicholas. She found him in her drawing room, inspecting the collection of portrait miniatures on a side table.

He looked up when she entered, his dark eyes giving her the same sensual jolt she always felt when he merely looked at her.

"Hello, cousin," he said warmly. "How generous of you to invite me to tea."

His amicable greeting was for the benefit of the servant, she suspected, forcing a smile. He was supposed to be her late husband's cousin. Having tea with him in the middle of the afternoon was not too far beyond the pale. It was his audacity that unsettled her nerves.

"How remiss of me, Mr. Deverill. I entirely forgot to tell my staff that you were expected." She turned to the butler, who was hovering at the door, awaiting her instructions. "Danby, we will take tea here, please."

"As you wish, my lady."

When they were alone, Aurora fixed a baleful glare on Nicholas. "I thought we agreed we would not meet in private," she declared, keeping her voice low so the servants wouldn't hear.

"I don't remember making any such agreement, love."

Before she could argue, he picked up one of the miniatures and showed it to her. It exhibited a handsome gentleman with curling dark gold hair and blue eyes. "Is this your late betrothed?"

Crossing the room, Aurora took the likeness from him and set it back down carefully. "Yes, that is Geoffrey, Lord March," she said, running her fingertips gently over the cherished image.

"I can see why I reminded you of him." Aurora shot him a questioning look and found Nicholas watching her. "When we first met, you said I reminded you of someone who was dear to you. I can detect a certain resemblance between us."

She had forgotten she had ever said that to Nicholas or that she'd ever seen a resemblance in the two men. They were as different as the sun and the moon: one bold and vital, blazing with heat and intensity, the other quiet and soothing and gentle.

"I was gravely mistaken. You are not alike in any respect. Certainly not now that you've changed the color of your hair."

"And you're still in love with his ghost?"

"I don't wish to discuss him, Nicholas." It hurt too much to remember. She gazed defiantly at him. "Would you care to explain what you are doing here? You know it is unwise for us to be together."

He studied her for a moment. "Perhaps, but I thought you could use the company. You said you can't get out much because the conventions of widowhood restrict your movements. And since I had a great deal to do with your claim to widowhood, I feel responsible for making amends."

"I told you, I release you from any responsibility or obligation toward me."

"I'm not certain I want to be released. I took a vow to cherish till death do us part."

"Nicholas… I thought we had settled this. Death did part us, if you will remember? You died and were buried on St. Kitts." Her mouth curved in a mock frown. "Oh, yes, I forgot. That was all a charade, much like the one you are playing now."

Nicholas's lips stretched in a slow smile, but he made no reply. Instead he contemplated her silently with an unsettling, amused gaze.

"What?" Aurora demanded. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I am trying to decide if I like this shrewish side of you."

Aurora took a deep breath. She was acting the shrew, even after she had vowed she would not allow herself to be goaded by his deliberate provocations. It was quite unlike her to let her temper get the best of her. She'd spent her life maintaining strict control over her emotions. But Nicholas Sabine was so very exasperating. And he had agreed to forget their marriage existed. So why was he still acting as if he were her husband, with the right to rule her? Was he going back on his word?

He was gazing down at her now, giving her the full effect of his lazy smile. Aurora wanted to curse him for his irresistible appeal; he knew perfectly well the impact his sensual charm had on her.

"I believe you are being remiss as a hostess, sweet shrew. Aren't you going to invite me to sit down?"

Aurora raised her eyes to the ceiling, but she willed herself to reply serenely. "Very well, Mr. Deverill. Will you please be seated?"

"Ah, excellent. If you could just refrain from looking daggers at me, I might actually believe you meant to welcome me."

With what she considered admirable control, Aurora waited until he had moved over to the settee before taking the chair opposite him, across the tea table.

"So, what shall we discuss?" she asked, folding her hands primly in her lap.

Nicholas simply watched her. After a moment, his gaze dropped to linger on her breasts. Heat rose in Aurora, and she felt a tingling and a swelling of her nipples that she was helpless to control.

"Do I make you nervous, Aurora?" he asked knowingly.

"Yes," she retorted. "The way you look at me is disgraceful."

"What way is that?"

"As if you're undressing me. It makes me highly uncomfortable."

His mouth lifted in a smile of tempting allure. "Good. I never want you to be too comfortable around me."

Aurora shook her head, torn between fury and despair. "You really deserve to be arrested, you know – before you cause a scandal or drive me to distraction."

"Would you really be glad for my arrest? Clune says you were bereft at my presumed death."

Her alarm returned full measure as she remembered Clune. "Surely you weren't mad enough to actually speak to him?"

"I'm afraid so. I decided a truthful approach would be most advantageous, so I revealed myself and told him the entire story about my imprisonment and near hanging."

"And how did he respond?" Aurora asked worriedly.

"Once I swore that I wasn't committing treason against your country, he was perfectly willing to assist my deception. I told him I was only here to see my wife, which is the truth."

Aurora eyed him with dismay. "How could you take such a dangerous risk?"

"Actually it was a calculated risk. Clune is always ‘ripe for a lark,' as he puts it. He also believes in loyalty toward his friends – and he claims me as a friend. He is fond of you, as well. Too fond, in my opinion. He as much as admitted that he'd been bent on your seduction."

Aurora felt Nicholas studying her intently. "I have done nothing to encourage Lord Clune to believe he could succeed."

"So he says. When I warned him to keep away from you, he claimed he had made little progress because you were madly in love with your late husband."

She felt herself blushing. "I had to have some story to explain my abrupt marriage. I thought it best to let people believe I fell in love at first sight."

His flashing smile held a relentless charm. "I rather like that version of the story."

"Yet you and I know the truth. Our union was never a love match – nor was it supposed to last longer than one night."

Nicholas let her comment pass. "You might not have encouraged Clune wittingly, but as a beautiful widow, you are a prime target for men like him. And your resistance only adds to your allure. For a rake like Clune, it's the challenge of the chase that is stimulating."

Her eyebrows lifted curiously. She suspected that while Nicholas might not be as great a libertine as his friend, he knew what drove a rake. "You sound as if you speak from experience. Is that why you still seem to be pursuing me? Because my reluctance to be your wife presents a challenge to you?"

He cocked his head, scrutinizing her with a half-lidded gaze. "Partly, I expect. But it goes deeper than that. As implausible as it may seem, I'm motivated by concern for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. It disturbs me to see you so limited by the strict observations of widowhood. That you're forced to lock yourself away from the world. This is not India, where widows are burned alive with their husbands' remains."

The tea tray arrived just then, brought by Aurora's very proper butler. She gave a guilty start, realizing their conversation could have been overheard. Vowing to be more discreet, she fell silent until Danby bowed and withdrew.

After offering Nicholas scones and jam and small finger sandwiches, she hesitated, eyeing him uncertainly. This man was her husband; they had been together in the most intimate way possible. And yet she had no idea how he even liked his tea. "Do you care for milk or sugar?"

"Sugar, no milk. I know," Nicholas said wryly, reading her thoughts. "For a husband and wife we are still practically strangers. Perhaps we should remedy that."

"I see no reason for us to become more closely acquainted."

He studied Aurora as she poured tea from the silver pot into china cups. She performed the task as she did everything else, with a graceful elegance that was the product of a lifetime of training. The perfect lady. And like most gently bred ladies, she had been raised to honor the stifling codes of society.

Yet she continued to surprise him. Aurora was not like so many of her contemporaries – shallow, vain, self-centered, arrogant – although with her breeding and beauty, she could very well have turned out that way. She had unexpected depths, intriguing facets that he found enchanting, sensual. He had been captivated this morning by the glimpse of her free spirit when she'd galloped in the park. And he'd tasted the hidden fire in her embrace more than once…

There was a keenly passionate woman beneath that ladylike exterior, and he was determined to find her, to chip away at her very proper inhibitions. She was too young to bury herself away in a living tomb of celibacy.

It wouldn't be easy to break through her defenses, though. Not when Aurora held such an aversion to risk, when she was so determined to deny any vestige of desire. Like now. When he took the cup of tea she offered, their fingers brushed, creating a frisson of heat. Aurora drew back as if burned. Averting her gaze, she picked up her own cup, clearly intent on ignoring the attraction between them.

Nicholas felt his resolve harden. She needed shaking up, even though she didn't know it.

"So," he said finally. "Do you mean to live the rest of your life hiding behind your widow's weeds?"

Her blue eyes lifted to his. "What do you mean?"

"You've immured yourself in a prison here. Not one of your own making, but a prison nonetheless. You're a captive of convention and decorum, letting society dictate your every action."

"There is nothing wrong with following the dictates of society."

"There is if you let it drain the very life from you."

Aurora pursed her lips together in a frown. "I am not like you, Nicholas. I want a quiet, orderly life."

"I don't think you do, or you never would have come to my rescue and agreed to wed a stranger."

"Those were highly unusual circumstances. I am perfectly content with my situation."

"Are you?"

"Yes. I enjoy a very full life, despite my current limitations. My household may be much smaller than the one I managed for my father, but it still requires effort. I write letters often – actually, I have a wide correspondence. Friends call on me frequently. I read a great deal. I ride daily…"

"Ah, yes, your secret vice. What other hidden desires do you harbor, Aurora?"

She ignored the question. "I have what I have always wanted… independence."

"I don't think you can call this independence. You live in constant fear of what others will think. You can't go out in public without hiding your face or out after dark at all. You feel trapped here, you've intimated as much."

"Perhaps, but only because I am determined to avoid scandal. What is acceptable behavior for a man is not at all tolerable in a lady, much less a widow."

Determinedly, Nicholas held her gaze. "Either you're deceiving yourself or you don't know yourself very well. I think there are two sides of you. The woman who bows down to convention, worshiping as if it were an icon. And the one who loves galloping wildly through the park for the sheer joy of it. The same one who gave herself to a stranger in a blazing night of passion."

He could see by the darkening of her expressive eyes that he had hit a nerve. "I think you want to escape that straitlaced prison of yours," he pressed in a low voice, "to let yourself be a sensual woman, but you're afraid to take the risk."

When she didn't respond, he drew the journal from his pocket and set it on the table before her. Aurora stared at it, her eyes very blue.

"I thought of you the entire time I was reading this. You're very much like the anonymous lady who wrote it."

"I cannot see any resemblance," she replied defensively, as if embarrassed by the thought. "Our circumstances could hardly be more different. She was French, enslaved by corsairs and imprisoned in a Turkish harem. She was forced to become a concubine and engage in acts no lady would ever willingly abide."

"She was innocent of carnal knowledge until she met a man who could fire her blood."

"Indeed. And her… her lust came to rule her."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Have you never wondered what it would be like to experience that kind of passion? To want someone that desperately?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Nick suspected he'd come close to the truth.

"I've wondered," he admitted. "My father once tried to explain how he felt about Raven's mother. He said that if I read the journal, I might understand."

Aurora lowered her gaze, her ivory skin flushing. "It was a very compelling story," she said finally, "but their love was doomed to fail. Desiree lost her heart to her master and became trapped by her obsession."

"But she never regretted loving."

"That was not the lesson I took from the journal," Aurora murmured, although not as staunchly as before. "I thought she was foolish to allow any man to rule her heart in that manner."

"My father believed it was better to have only one moment of true passion than never to know it at all."

She hesitated. "And look what it gained him. A lifetime of misery, yearning for a woman he could never have." Aurora shook her head, as if trying to convince herself. "It is far better never to give your heart than risk having it torn out."

Nick's gaze dropped to her tempting mouth that had hardened in resolve. A rush of desire swept over him as he thought of transforming her stubborn conviction into melting surrender.

Nicholas drew a ragged breath at the erotic image. "I think you are a woman like Desiree, Aurora. You have the same wild spirit."

She set down her cup unsteadily. "You're mistaken."

His gaze never faltered. "What is it that frightens you about that notion? That you could feel passion that intense? Or that you could be jolted out of that cocoon you've wrapped around yourself?"

She rose abruptly. "I think you should go, Nicholas."

After a moment's hesitation, he set down his own cup and stood. When he closed the distance between them, she didn't back away, obviously determined not to let him intimidate her.

Deliberately he took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the inner flesh of her wrist. She stood defiantly, unmoving, yet her cheeks flushed, betraying her struggle for control. More revealing, he could see the yearning of long-suppressed desire in her eyes.

She was ripe for passion, for life, Nicholas knew. She desperately needed to be freed from the rigid shackles that bound her, and he was the only man to do it. But he wouldn't fight her just yet. The battle had scarcely begun, and he could be patient.

"I am not mistaken, siren," he said softly. "I've tasted all that sweet fire hidden beneath your layers of cool reserve. There's a sensual, passionate woman waiting to be set free. And I intend to find her."

With a brief bow, he turned and walked away.

Aurora stood frozen, staring after Nicholas's retreating back. When he had left, she let out a shaky breath. Her heart was still hammering in her chest from his nearness, his sheer magnetism.

How did he always manage to overwhelm her that way? How could he make her blood race with a simple touch, turning her knees to water and her willpower to jelly? Why did he kindle such inner turmoil? He brought out the worst in her – dark emotions she didn't want to feel. This time, however, his probing questions had unnerved her as much as his physical presence and his provoking behavior.

Weakly she sank into her chair. Was Nicholas right? Was she like Desiree? Did she have a wild spirit just waiting to be set free?

Certainly she was a different woman since meeting Nicholas Sabine… driven by desires she had never known before. She had fought her powerful attraction to him, along with the restless yearning he roused in her so effortlessly, but it was there, simmering below the surface.

Uncertainly Aurora picked up the journal he had left for her. She had been shocked by the explicit sensuality she'd found there, but the love story had captured her imagination. Vulnerable to her master's gentle seduction and exotic temptations, Desiree had been swept up in a storm of passion she never before imagined…

What would it be like to know such incredible passion? To be overwhelmed by the madness of love, the blindness of desire? To experience feelings so powerful they could blot out any vestiges of wisdom and reason?

She'd had a fleeting taste of such passion on her wedding night, Aurora remembered unwillingly.

The book fell open to a well-worn page:

I love the many parts of you. I love your hard flesh so deep inside me. I love the weight and strength of you, so powerful against my softness. I love your feverish hunger, your desire that makes me feel so much a woman.

Aurora shut her eyes. Nicholas. He reminded her so very much of the Frenchwoman's lover – bold, virile, vibrantly sensual. Like the prince in the journal, he had awakened a woman's tender longing deep within her.

Against her will, her mind flashed to a vision of their marriage bed, the two of them together… Nicholas making love to her with such fierce tenderness, moving inside her, filling her with the pleasure she needed, wanted.

The same pleasure his dark eyes had promised moments ago.

She shivered. She would not allow herself to surrender to the promise in his eyes. She dared not yield to him, no matter how his touch set her blood racing.

Still, she couldn't deny her hungry yearning.

Chapter Twelve

My resistance seemed hopeless. How could I defend against the restless yearning he kindled in me?

Over the course of the next few days, Aurora found herself cursing Nicholas Sabine more and more readily. The man was dangerous to her peace of mind. By night, he haunted her dreams. By day, the anticipation of seeing him filled her with a taut, achy restlessness that would not leave her.

When she did encounter him, whether on her morning rides in the park or at some other venue, she always experienced a jolt, the same shivering awareness she'd felt when she'd first seen him on the quay in St. Kitts. Now, however, when she met his intense gaze, the heat in his dark eyes and the unguarded message it conveyed scorched her like hot coals.

She couldn't avoid seeing him wherever she went, possibly because Nicholas had an ally in his sister; Raven evidently was in league with him, inviting Nicholas on their various shopping expeditions. He made their meetings look accidental and innocuous, but Aurora knew his campaign was carefully planned with the precision of a military general.

She had no idea how to defend herself against such tactics. She had never before been the object of such single-minded determination. Nicholas was like a powerful storm sweeping everything in its path, destroying her equanimity in the process. No matter how she strove to remain serene and aloof, to disregard his sensual, ruthless charm, she found it impossible. He was outrageous, bold, provocative… irresistible.

But it was the deeper feelings he roused in her that were the graver threat. He had only to breathe to stir a fierce ache of uneasy emotions inside her.

She considered fleeing London for a time just to escape. Only yesterday she'd received a letter from Geoffrey's mother, Lady March, asking her to visit. Geoffrey's ten-year-old brother Harry was proving a handful, and Lady March claimed Aurora was the only one who could control him.

Yet she couldn't leave London, Aurora knew. She would not act the coward. And she had a solemn obligation to support Raven. Moreover, her father was in Sussex – the Eversley and March estates adjoined – and she had no wish to encounter the duke, even to escape Nicholas.

She thought she understood what drove his pursuit. It almost seemed as if he were wooing her, but Aurora felt certain her appeal stemmed from the challenge she presented. Winning her was a game to Nicholas. He was incited by the thrill of the chase.

She began to wonder if resistance was the right course. If she ever actually surrendered to him – if she allowed him to win – perhaps then he might give up the hunt and go home, sparing them both endless grief. She didn't want Nicholas running her life, dictating how she should behave, what she should feel. It was the height of arrogance for him to presume to know her mind better than she herself did. He had compared her to the Frenchwoman in the journal, and perhaps there were similarities, Aurora acknowledged. But she had no room in her life for wildfire passions raging out of control, nor any desire for the kind of pain such passion could engender.

Clearly she would have to devise a new plan for dealing with Nicholas. There had to be some way to turn the tables on him so that she could regain control of her life. She was never going to persuade him to leave her alone otherwise – for his sake as well as her own.

The risk he was taking worried Aurora greatly. She lived in constant fear of his exposure. Lord Clune apparently had taken up his sponsorship and was showing Nicholas about London, squiring him to gaming clubs and indulging in other rakish diversions. She felt sure he would get himself killed if he kept up his reckless imposture.

He was better known in England than he presumed, Aurora believed. But when he was nearly recognized, it was by a French emigre, of all people.

Nicholas had escorted Raven and Aurora into a milliner's shop on Oxford Street. The proprietor, upon seeing him, gave a start and clasped her hands together, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu!" under her breath. Then Nicholas removed his beaver hat, fully exposing his dark hair, and the Frenchwoman's look turned to confusion.

She seemed to recall herself and came forward to greet her clientele, but while Raven contemplated fashionable bonnets, the proprietor eyed Nicholas in puzzlement.

"Pardon, monsieur," she said finally in a heavy accent. "I did not mean to stare, but you have the appearance of a man I once knew."

Aurora felt herself tense, yet except for a polite smile, Nicholas kept his expression impassive. "Perhaps you mistake me for my cousin, madame. It happens with some frequency."

"Your cousin is Mr. Nicholas Sabine of America?"

"Yes."

The woman moved forward to clasp his hand fervently. "Oh, monsieur, your cousin is truly an angel. He saved the lives of my entire family. Not only mine, but a half dozen other families as well. Never will I forget him or the debt we owe him."

She was an older woman, with graying hair, but still quite beautiful, with the fine-boned structure and porcelain skin of an aristocrat. Nicholas gave her his most sensual smile, as if she were twenty years younger. "My cousin is a fortunate man, to be remembered so fondly by such a lovely lady."

The proprietor flushed with pleasure and released his hand, almost in embarrassment. But when sometime later they concluded their shopping, she adamantly refused to let them pay for the three bonnets Raven had chosen.

The moment they left the shop, Raven asked the question that had been burning on Aurora's lips. "What did she mean, you saved her family? You were too young to be part of their bloody revolution, were you not?"

"Yes. But I happened to be in France afterward, during one of their gruesome governmental purges."

"And you just happened to rescue a half dozen families from the guillotine?" Aurora said dryly.

He shrugged. "Actually, it was only four. And it was a firing squad. The guillotine had been abandoned by then as too ‘uncivilized.'"

Raven visibly repressed a laugh at his sarcasm, but Aurora was disturbed to learn of yet another situation where Nicholas could have been killed. She frowned at him over his sister's head.

"I suppose you mean to claim you didn't enjoy playing the hero, courting danger and risking your life?"

Nicholas shook his head. "Danger doesn't trouble me, but I didn't consciously seek the honor. I just seem to have a knack for becoming embroiled in rescues, even when I don't intend to."

"Even so, the problem now," Aurora said slowly, striving for patience, "is that your exploits have made you infamous enough you cannot hope to escape recognition."

"There are few people who know anything of my ‘exploits,' as you call them."

"But if someone whom you met years ago recognized you, others will as well."

"Then I will just deny the acquaintance as I did just now," he said mildly. "Stop worrying about me, love. It will only give you gray hairs."

His answer dismayed her. Nicholas seemed oblivious to the danger he was in, indeed, seemed to thrive on it.

Giving him a look of frustration, Aurora marched off toward her carriage, leaving him to follow with his sister.

"You shouldn't tease her so, Nicholas," Raven said tightly. "She's worried that you will come to harm and only wants to protect you."

Nick glanced at her quizzically, surprised to hear the anger in her voice. "Was I teasing her?"

"You know you were. If you understood what Aurora has endured, you would not be so unkind."

He raised an eyebrow. "What has she endured?"

"She may be a wealthy duke's daughter, but her father made her life a misery. It must have been wretched for her, living under that tyrant's thumb, having to suffer his rages."

"I trust you mean to explain what you are talking about."

Raven glanced toward the carriage where Aurora awaited her. "There is no time to discuss it now. Meet me at Tobley's Bookshop tomorrow afternoon and I will tell you."

His concern aroused, Nick found himself impatiently waiting for Raven the next afternoon. When eventually she arrived with her maid, he followed her to a rear corner of the shop. They each pretended to peruse the shelves of novels while Raven explained what she had meant about the Duke of Eversley's rages.

"His grace has a vicious temper," she murmured in a hushed voice, "that I had the misfortune to witness shortly after we arrived in England. I was living with my Aunt Dalrymple by then, but Aurora spent the first few days at her family's London house. Naturally she wrote to her father and told him of her marriage to you. She was concerned about his reaction, I knew, but I never dreamed it would be so violent. The duke came to London in a fury, outraged because she had sullied the family name by wedding a condemned criminal. I saw their confrontation myself."

Raven shuddered. "I had just been admitted to their house by the butler – Aurora planned to escort me shopping, you see – when I heard someone shouting. I found Aurora in the drawing room with her father. His grace was standing there, shaking his fists at her and screaming. I could scarcely believe how livid he was. When Aurora tried to calm him, he picked up a heavy vase and threw it at her! Thank God it missed and merely shattered against the wall. It could have killed her."

Nick felt a sudden knot of anger and revulsion coil in his gut at the picture his sister had drawn for him.

"To my shame," Raven went on in a low voice, "I was too stunned to react, but her butler tried to intervene. That poor man is nearly a relic, he's so old, yet even though he was no match for the duke physically, he stepped between them. Eversley shoved him to the floor and went after Aurora, his fist raised. I honestly believe he would have struck her if he hadn't seen me. He stopped only because he didn't wish to commit such an outrageous indiscretion in front of a stranger."

"What happened then?" Nick asked in a hard voice.

"Well, the duke looked as if he would have an apoplectic fit, trying to control himself. He warned Aurora to get out of his sight, in fact, to leave his house entirely – saying that she was no longer his daughter – and then he stormed out."

Raven drew a measured breath. "Aurora was shaking, but she was more concerned for poor Danby, who had struck his head on a table when he was pushed. It was only later, after he had been tended to, that she confessed that sort of violence from her father was not uncommon. I think Aurora was vastly relieved he had washed his hands of her. She wouldn't say anything else against him, but later O'Malley was able to glean more from her servants than she would divulge to me. The tales only confirmed what I saw, that the duke is a terrible tyrant."

"Tyrant is obviously too tame a word," Nick said sardonically.

Raven nodded. "From what I gather, Aurora had to keep others safe from his rages for years, at no little cost to herself. That wasn't the first time he had threatened to strike her."

Nick's brows snapped together in a scowl of disbelief. "Eversley beat her? His own daughter?"

"It's monstrous, I know. But his servants paid even more dearly for his temper. Reportedly he took a crop to a groom once and nearly blinded the poor man."

Nick felt his gut tighten, repulsed by the thought of any man taking his anger out on defenseless dependents. And the idea of Aurora being at Eversley's mercy sickened him.

"Every one of her servants," Raven added quietly, "says that Aurora did her best to protect them from her father's fits of violence. More than once she had to physically intervene. And when he turned them out without a reference for the slightest infraction, she found them positions elsewhere. She never forgot them, either. When she set up her own household several months ago, she searched out those who had suffered at her father's hands and offered them employment. At least two of them were nearly destitute and were so pitifully grateful… It is small wonder they think Aurora is a saint."

"No, it's no wonder," he replied tersely, struggling to keep his anger in check. When he'd proposed to her, Aurora had implied her father would be angry at her marriage, but never could he have imagined she would be in actual danger.

"What are you thinking?" Raven asked, eyeing his scowling face.

The smile Nick gave was wintery. "About how much I would enjoy ten minutes alone with the duke."

"I know," Raven said, understanding. "He deserves to be taught what it is like being at the mercy of someone stronger and more powerful. But you cannot reveal yourself to him, Nicholas. You are supposed to be in disguise."

His jaw hardened in frustration at the reminder, but then his tension eased. As Nicholas Sabine, he was severely constrained by the need for secrecy, but as Brandon Deverill, he was under no such restrictions. He could repay the duke for all the grief the illustrious bastard had caused his daughter…

"Now what are you thinking?" Raven asked with a frown.

"That the day will come when the duke receives his just desserts," Nick replied enigmatically.

Apparently satisfied, Raven turned to reshelve the book she had been pretending to read, then added thoughtfully, "I'm certain her father is the main reason Aurora is so concerned about propriety. It is not that she is afraid of defying convention per se, but because the duke threatened her. He vowed that if she caused any further scandal, he would whip her like a stableboy and lock her away where she could no longer sully his name. That is why she is so careful to observe her widowhood, why she doesn't go out in society. She doesn't want to give her father any ammunition to use against her. She knows what he is capable of."

Raven turned back to Nicholas. "But I hope you see now that her concern for your safety is not really irrational at all. It has become second nature for her to worry about others, to try to protect them from harm."

Nick nodded slowly. It explained so much about Aurora. Why she claimed to want a quiet, serene life. Why she seemed afraid of passion. Why she had chosen a reportedly intellectual milquetoast like March to love. After being subjected to her father's fits of temper all her life, she would abhor any emotion that was too intense.

It explained, too, Nick realized, why she had reacted like a mother tigress when she'd seen him being beaten on the quay in St. Kitts; why she had intervened to save a total stranger. And why she had wed him – a pirate and accused murderer – despite all the serious disadvantages. She had wanted to escape her father and his rages.

Her widowhood provided her the safe haven she yearned for, but in reality, she had turned it into a prison, where emotion, desire, passion, had no place.

Scowling, Nick stared unseeingly at the rows of leather-bound volumes before him. He finally was beginning to understand what drove Aurora. Her reserve was far more ingrained and complex than he had first thought, but at least now he could better see what he was up against, and why she resisted him so fiercely. He imperiled her haven, threatened her passionless existence.

His resolve hardening, Nick set his jaw in determination. The task of teaching Aurora to trust him, to open up to him, would be more difficult than he ever imagined. But somehow he would find a way to free her from the joyless prison she had deliberately created for herself.

Chapter Thirteen

He made me feel intensely alive . He made my heart sing and set my blood on fire .

Two evenings later, Aurora received a glimpse of Nicholas's renewed purpose. She had already retired to bed when she heard a soft clink against her window pane, then another. Her startlement quickly turned to dismay when she realized someone was throwing pebbles and trying to get her attention.

Knowing it could only be Nicholas, she went to open the window and peer down. He stood in silver shadow beneath the oak tree, looking up at her.

Her heart did its usual somersault. She hadn't seen him at all today; in fact, she hadn't left the house. A hard rain had prevented her morning ride in the park, and Raven had had an afternoon engagement with her aunt. But the clouds had cleared and now a bright moon drenched the night.

"What are you doing, loitering beneath my window?" Aurora demanded in a whisper.

"I've come to rescue you and take you for a drive," he answered less quietly.

"In the dead of night?"

"It isn't even midnight yet. And you've been trapped inside all day."

"I have already retired for the night."

"Do you mean to invite me up there?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you had best come down here."

"Nicholas, I am in my nightclothes."

"I don't mind," he said with a wicked edge of amusement to his voice. "Get dressed and come down, Aurora. You don't want me knocking on your front door and waking the servants, I'm certain."

His implied threat exasperated her. "I have no intention of being alone with you in the middle of the night."

"I thought that might concern you, so I brought a lad with me. He's holding my horses as we speak. And I have a curricle."

When she hesitated, he called up softly. "Craven. What harm can there be in going for a spin? I can hardly ravish you in an open carriage."

What harm, indeed? Aurora thought wryly. She would be mad to put herself at the mercy of a reckless and charming rogue.

But as usual Nicholas would not take no for an answer. "Come down, love, before I have to climb up there and fetch you. I will meet you at the back entrance."

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, giving her no further chance to protest. Short of shouting after him, she was helpless to try to make him see reason.

With a sigh of exasperation, Aurora stepped back from the window. She could scarcely believe she was actually considering going for a midnight drive in the dark with Nicholas Sabine. And yet she couldn't deny the forbidden appeal of it. What in heaven's name was happening to her? Before meeting Nicholas she'd always been sedate and proper, a model of decorum. But now she was behaving like a wanton.

And what is so wrong about that? a voice in her head prodded. You have been sensible and proper all your life. You can be a little risque for once.

Feeling very much like the Frenchwoman in the journal who had been seduced into sin by her captivating prince, Aurora dressed quickly and drew on a hooded cloak. The house was dark and silent as she crept downstairs and let herself out of the servants' entrance.

Nicholas was waiting for her outside as he'd promised. When he saw her, his smile turned quite brilliant. Aurora drew a sharp breath, suddenly filled with the dizzying pleasure of being near him.

A curricle was waiting at the end of the short drive, and just as he'd claimed, a youth held the pair of horses. Nicholas handed her up into the seat and climbed up after her.

"Wait here, if you please," he said to the boy. "We shall return shortly." With a flick of the reins, he sent the team off at a brisk trot.

Aurora held on to the seat rail while sending him an incredulous look, scarcely believing his audacity.

"I should have known better than to trust you," she said darkly when they were out of earshot. "You led me to believe your tiger would accompany us."

"Only because you would not have come with me otherwise."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Not far. Look around you, siren. Is this not better than being captive in your chaste bedchamber?"

It was a magnificent night, Aurora thought unwillingly. The cool June breeze on her face was exhilarating, the moonlight stirring as it bathed the silent streets. Yet her vexation at Nicholas prevented her full enjoyment. "You cannot make me believe you were thinking only of me when you lured me out here."

"Perhaps I wasn't, but can you fault me for wanting to be alone with a beautiful woman on a moonlit night?"

"Then you don't deny you are bent on seduction."

"There are no laws against seducing my own wife."

She raised her eyes to the sky. "Haven't you anything better to do than drive me to distraction?"

"I can think of nothing better, except for making love to you."

"Nicholas!"

"Actually," he added casually before she could finish, "Clune did invite me to join his Hellfire colleagues on a tour of the demimonde this evening, but I declined."

Aurora fell silent, disturbed by the image of Nicholas dallying with courtesans in an elegant London brothel. The thought of him making love to any other woman was distinctly troubling – which was absurd, since she had told him he was free to find his pleasures elsewhere.

She glanced up at him, at his strong profile that was chiseled by moonlight. He would have absolutely no trouble finding feminine companionship. He was devastatingly attractive, more sensual and exciting than any man she had ever known. He was also a rake and adventurer, accustomed to living dangerously and breaking hearts. She should know better than to make herself vulnerable this way, being alone with him.

"Why did you decline?" she murmured, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"Because the only woman I wanted was my wife."

She wouldn't dignify his provocative remark with an answer.

"What?" he teased softly when she remained mute. "No sharp rejoinder?"

She gave him a stern look. "I cannot credit that you would prefer me to an accomplished Cyprian."

"Ah, but I do, siren."

"Merely because, like Clune, you only want what you cannot have."

"That isn't why I want you so badly."

"Then why?" Aurora asked, curious in spite of herself.

"I wish I knew," Nicholas replied with surprising seriousness. "I've never been this attracted to any other woman before."

"What you are feeling is simple male…"

Nicholas supplied the word she was searching for. "Lust?" His mouth quirked wryly. "It is hardly simple, sweetheart. And it is far more than mere lust. It's more like a fierce craving."

"Well, you will just have to control it."

"I am trying my utmost, but I cannot control my imagination. I frequently have fantasies of you naked in my arms, did you know that?"

"Nicholas!"

"Please," he chided, "remember that my name is Brandon."

"If you don't behave," she declared in a fierce undertone, "I will demand that you turn this carriage around and take me home."

His amused expression sobered slightly. "Believe it or not, I do intend to behave this evening. I give you my word, my motives are completely altruistic for once. I only want you to have a moment of freedom."

She didn't know if she could trust him, but when he turned his head to look at her, his gaze was entirely serious. "Raven is worried for you. She thinks you're lonely and in need of company."

"Raven is mistaken. And even if I were in need of company, I would hardly choose you – a bold rogue who's determined to incite a scandal."

"I should think that as a duke's daughter you would find boldness appealing after being accustomed to servility all your life. Surely you don't want me fawning over you and treating you like fragile crystal?"

"I would like you to respect my wishes," she said coolly, "instead of trying to ride roughshod over me. You said I saved your life. For that I think I might be entitled to some measure of consideration."

"I am considering you, love. I'm thinking of your welfare. Admit it, you feel more alive when you're sparring with me, matching wits. My very presence stirs your blood."

"I do not want my blood stirred, Nicholas."

"Come now, can you honestly claim you don't enjoy being with me? Or that you would rather be safe in bed than here on a night like tonight?"

It was indeed magical. Aurora tilted her face up to the moon, soothed by its serene spell.

As if by mute agreement, they remained silent for a time, the only sound the clop-rattle of hooves and wheels on cobblestone. When they came to the entrance to Hyde Park, Nicholas turned off the street onto the gravel carriage path.

"I suppose you have a purpose for bringing me here?" Aurora said skeptically.

"You'll see," he replied.

They drove a short distance until the Serpentine came into view. Aurora caught her breath at the stunning beauty of the lake, which resembled a brilliant mirror.

Wordlessly Nicholas pulled off the path onto the lawn and negotiated past a grove of chestnut trees. With a tug on the reins, he drew the curricle to a halt.

Aurora sat speechless for a long moment. "I have never seen the park so peaceful and lovely," she said finally.

"You have never seen a lot of things. Would you care to sit by the water?"

When she nodded, he climbed down and tied the reins to a tree branch, then went around the rig and reached up to grasp her waist. As he lifted her down, Aurora felt his touch like a hot brand, while Nicholas suddenly froze, as if burned by the same scorching heat radiating through her.

"You aren't wearing a corset," he murmured, his voice suddenly husky.

"I had no time to put one on," she replied, flushing.

"I'm going to pretend I never discovered that."

Retrieving a blanket from the boot, he took her by the hand and drew her down past a copse of willows to the water's edge. He spread the blanket on the grassy bank, and when Aurora was seated, settled beside her.

For a long moment she simply sat there, staring in awe at the lovely, shining lake. "It's beautiful."

"Yes."

He wasn't looking at the water, but at her; she felt his scrutiny like a caress.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, looking up at the moon. A silver ring of mist surrounded the rim. Aurora drew a slow, deep breath, drinking in the serene beauty. The night air smelled of damp earth and sweet grass. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"My pleasure." He paused. "I did have an ulterior motive. I wanted to show you how much you're missing by locking yourself away in your prison."

"Indeed?" she murmured, less vexed than usual by his presumption.

"I would bet half my fortune that once you have a taste of freedom, you'll find it hard to return to your dull, proper existence."

She couldn't help but smile at his persistence. "You are still laboring under the misguided apprehension that I am discontent with my life."

"I don't believe it's a misapprehension. I think you are far lonelier than you will let yourself admit."

Aurora winced inwardly at the truth of his charge. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn't deny the deep ache of loneliness inside her.

Nicholas was still watching her. She could feel his penetrating gaze, probing her secrets.

"You would be happier if you opened yourself up to risks now and then," he said gently. "If you dared to take chances and damn the consequences."

Aurora stirred uncomfortably, wishing she could change the subject. "Like you do? Risking your life simply by being in the country?"

"Even that."

"I hardly think courting danger is the key to happiness."

Nicholas shrugged. "For me it is. Danger makes you feel alive, makes you appreciate living. You should celebrate it, not fear it."

She rested her cheek on her knees and studied him in turn. She already was risking danger simply by letting him near. Nicholas was danger. He was excitement. He was intensely alive. It was what set him apart from other men, she realized: his keen lust for life.

"Have you always been this way? This reckless and daring?"

"I'm afraid so. I was the bane of my father's existence."

"I can well imagine."

"I was rather wild in my youth," Nicholas admitted.

"Far beyond your youth, if the tales are true. Raven says you were the black sheep of your family until only a few years ago."

"Have you been talking to her about me?"

Aurora felt herself flush. "I asked her to tell me more about the stranger I married. It was a way to honor you in death, I suppose."

His smile was charmingly sensual. "I'm gratified."

"So what caused your transformation?"

"My father's death."

Nicholas stretched out on his side, facing her, and propped himself on one elbow. His handsome features looked thoughtful in the moonlight. "I always knew I would inherit the Sabine shipping empire one day. Almost from my cradle my father groomed me to take over his holdings, and I spent much of my youth crewing his ships and learning to sail anything that floated. I relished that part of the business, but I resented being controlled and having my entire future planned out for me in infinite detail. When I was twenty, I finally rebelled and went in search of my own destiny."

Aurora had no trouble imagining a young, restless Nicholas straining to break free of his father's dictates. Fettering him that way would have been like trying to cage a wild tiger.

Nicholas paused, gazing out over the shimmering water. "I rarely saw my father after that, until he lay dying. It was only on his deathbed that I came to realize how much I hurt him by leaving."

She heard the regret in his voice, the sadness, and wanted to offer solace. "It must have been a sacrifice for you to return home to take over the family business."

"Somewhat, but I owed it to my father. I never fully appreciated the sacrifice he made to keep his family intact. He was passionately in love with Raven's mother, and he could have left his wife and children, but he didn't. Besides, it was time I lived up to my responsibilities. I swore to him I would care for my mother and sisters and keep his legacy intact. The line has done well enough under my hand… at least until the war started. But even with that, we've fared better than most shipping concerns."

Aurora wasn't certain she wanted to see this admirable, appealing side of Nicholas – the quiet, thoughtful man revealing his innermost feelings, opening himself to her. Yet it helped her understand what drove him. "That was why you were so determined to see Raven settled, even to the extent of wedding a stranger."

"Yes." He smiled. "Nothing else could have forced me to the altar."

She, on the other hand, had known her whole life long that the altar was waiting for her. Aurora fell silent, contemplating how different their lives had been. Nicholas had rebelled and set off on a wild life of adventure, while she had remained dutifully complacent, obeying her father's every wish – except his last. Until her marriage to Nicholas, she had always conducted herself precisely as expected of her. And until now, she had never allowed herself to admit how much she resented it.

"What are you thinking?" Nicholas asked, watching her.

"That wedding you was the first time I ever defied my father."

"That isn't what Raven says," he said quietly. "She claims you were forced to defy him regularly to protect your servants."

Aurora looked away. She didn't like to think about her father's violent rages. It was too disturbing, too humiliating.

"Raven saw your father threaten you, Aurora. I gather he struck you often."

"Not often," she said reluctantly, wanting to be fair. "And it was a small price to pay. I was the only one who could stand up to him, and he would…" She shut her eyes, remembering her father's physical assaults on his defenseless servants.

"He wasn't always so bad," she finally said. "My mother could manage him, but after she died, he took to drinking more heavily. His moods were so… unpredictable. One day he would be amiable, the next he would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation. I could usually calm him if I didn't confront him directly, if I placated him. But I grew to dread even being near him…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's terrible to say, but I think I hated him."

"No."

"It is shameful to hate your own father."

"Not if he deserves it. Any man who would strike a – " Nicholas bit off the comment, his tone grim. "I would very much like to meet your father."

Aurora winced at the mere thought of that confrontation.

"I think he affected you more than you realize," Nicholas observed after a moment.

He was right, she knew, nodding slowly. "Perhaps so. All my life I lived in dread of his rages. They made me physically ill. I was always so powerless… I learned to hate emotional turmoil." She gave an involuntary shudder.

She felt Nicholas's hand touch the small of her back, offering comfort, and drew a measured breath. Her father could not hurt her now – because of Nicholas.

"For the past two months I've known peace. I no longer wake up dreading having to face my father. I was grateful to you for that. Wedding you allowed me to escape him."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?"

"About the risk you were taking by marrying me."

"What good would it have done? You were not in a position to accept a refusal."

"I didn't realize the danger I was putting you in."

"It was my choice, Nicholas. And besides…" She smiled faintly down at him. "You allowed me to escape Halford, too. I would have had to endure that marriage." She shuddered again. "Truly, being widowed has allowed me far more freedom than I've ever known before, and I cherish it."

Nicholas considered her claim for a long moment. When he spoke, his tone was quiet, contemplative. "The bit of freedom you've carved out for yourself has barely scratched the surface, Aurora."

She gave him a questioning look. "What are you suggesting I do? I have already pressed the limits of decorum as far as I dare, setting up my own household and living on my own."

"You could dare a great deal more. You are still letting yourself be smothered, trying to conform to society's rigid rules, your father's expectations."

He was right again, Aurora thought, gazing out at the silvery lake. She did feel smothered. She had felt so her whole life long. Perhaps that was why the journal had struck such a deep chord inside her. That beautiful yet terrible tale of passion fascinated her more than she would have believed possible – a sheltered woman finding freedom in the very chains of slavery that bound her…

Aurora pressed her lips together in denial. She certainly had no desire for such drastic liberation. But perhaps she should take more risks, as Nicholas was suggesting. Perhaps she should dare to be bolder…

"You have a hunger for living, Aurora, beneath all those proper inhibitions." His tone was low and vibrant. "You want to feel alive. Yet you don't know how."

She felt his gaze probing her, as if he were seeing inside her and uncovering all her secrets. Somehow Nicholas understood the yearning she had always hidden in the deepest part of her, the part that was wild and restless and questing. The longing for some nameless fulfillment. Something elusive she could only imagine.

"And I suppose you are offering to teach me?" she said finally.

"I want to, very much." His rough-velvet voice resonated through her. "I could show you a world you've never seen before, one brilliant and vibrant with color. You aren't happy now in your dull gray world, alone in your cold, lonely bed."

At his implication that he warm her bed, her breath caught. "You are not responsible for my happiness, Nicholas," she managed to murmur.

"Perhaps not, but you need liberating. And I intend to be the one to do it."

"How? By wearing down my resistance?"

"By becoming your lover."

In the night's silence she could hear the hammering of her heart. "I have no intention of being intimate with you again. What if I should conceive? I could never live down the scandal."

"You read the journal. There are myriad ways to experience carnal relations that don't result in conception. We have a vast array of methods of arousal yet to explore. Of touching and caressing and enjoying each other."

It was true; the journal described in exquisite detail many different forms of sensual pleasure. Aurora looked down at Nicholas. He was watching her intently, a primal gaze of sensuality incarnate.

His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "Doesn't your heart race a little faster at the thought of making love to me? Can you deny my touch excites you?"

No, she couldn't deny it at all. This man was her husband. He had been her first lover. Her only lover. She wanted him.

She was suddenly filled with intense awareness. Of the night. Of the tingling in her veins. Of Nicholas. Of the rich, disturbing promise of his mouth.

The air between them seemed to throb with pulses of anticipation and warning as she stared at him. There was something wild and savage singing through her blood, a whispering voice urging her to yield to abandon, to give in to the lush sensation he promised.

Yet another conflicting voice exhorted her to keep her defenses strong. Nicholas lusted after her because he wanted what he could not have.

But… what if she gave him what he wanted? If she yielded to him, he would soon tire of the chase, for the thrill would be gone. Surely he would end his maddening pursuit then.

There might even be a way to hasten his decision: she could take the offensive herself. She was weary of being his quarry, of defending herself, of endlessly having to keep up her guard.

He reminded her of her father in that respect. Whether intentionally or not, Nicholas was trying to intimidate her, to make her accede his demands, to control her. Yet after standing up to her father for so many years, she should be able to stand up to Nicholas.

It would be gratifying to turn the tables on him and make him the hunted for a change. If she pursued him, he might very well turn tail and run – all the way back to America. And if she could manage to ease his powerful carnal needs, he would no longer be driven by his fierce lust…

"Perhaps you are right," Aurora said slowly, hoping she wasn't making an irrevocable mistake. "Perhaps we should become lovers."

When he had no response, she realized she had surprised him into silence. He had clearly not expected her acquiescence.

He would not expect her to take the first step, either.

Aurora drew a measured breath, wondering if she had the courage to follow through with her wild plan. But what choice had he left her? She couldn't allow things to continue this way, with Nicholas driving her slowly mad. He wouldn't stop until she yielded, so the sooner she did so, the sooner their bizarre relationship would end.

She had scarce experience in carnal matters, but the journal had given her remarkable insights, teaching her the secrets of a man's body, how to excite his desire – an invaluable lesson, Aurora knew. A woman could wield great power if she controlled a man's desire.

Her wedding night, too, had helped her shed her virginal ignorance as well as her inhibitions. Nicholas himself had taught her about hunger and arousal…

Holding his gaze, Aurora gathered her courage and slowly bent down to touch his warm lips with her own.

Nicholas remained frozen, as if startled into immobility. "Are you really serious?" he asked finally.

She answered with false calmness. "Quite serious. You said I should take more risks. Well, I intend to, beginning now. Will you lie back, please?"

When she reached out to press him down, he grasped her hand, holding it away from his body.

With a nervous laugh, Aurora straightened. "You aren't afraid of me, are you, Nicholas?" she murmured in a low voice that was intentionally challenging.

He narrowed his heated eyes. "Just what do you plan to do?"

"Ease your lust." Her hand pressed again on his chest. "And perhaps enjoy a taste of revenge. You delight in tormenting me. Well, it is my turn to torment you. Turnabout is fair play, after all. Now lie back."

He did as ordered, but his husky voice held a warning. "Aurora, I am not a saint. If you don't want to make love, then I strongly suggest you end this game right now."

She let her lips curl in a smile as she unfastened the buttons of his coat, even though she felt clumsy with nerves.

"A saint is the last thing I would call you, Nicholas. And I want to play this game… Only I set the rules."

She slowly undid his waistcoat buttons and pushed aside the lapels. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fine cambric of his shirt; warmth, life lay under her fingertips, reassuring as well as arousing. "The first rule is that you aren't to touch me."

"What if I don't want to play by your rules?"

"Oh, I think you will."

Her hand moved lower, to his hard abdomen. She hesitated a moment. Then clutching his shirt, she loosened the hem from the waistband of his breeches and drew it up till his stomach was completely bare.

When Nicholas shifted his weight uneasily, Aurora frowned in warning. "Lie still."

He obliged as she lightly stroked his taut belly, his skin hot beneath her palm. But when she slid her fingers into his waistband, his entire body tensed. Her courage swelled.

"Does this hurt?" she asked, slightly taunting.

"You know it doesn't, witch," he ground out.

She withdrew her hand, but she could tell he was already aroused; she could feel the enormous bulge under his breeches as her fingers worked the buttons.

"If you expect me to be still while you touch me like that," he said hoarsely, "you should think again."

"If you move, I shall stop," Aurora replied serenely.

He gritted his teeth as she opened his breeches and moved on to the buttons of his drawers. When a moment later she parted the fabric, his quivering length sprang from the dark gold curls of his groin.

Aurora felt her breath catch. He was stunning, with the moonlight silvering the hard planes and muscles of his body.

She might have little experience, but she knew what would happen when she touched him. How a soft caress would make his muscles bunch and tighten. How the lightest brush of her fingertips across his belly would make him quiver. How his skin would flush with heat and his male flesh grow rigid…

I stroke the thickening swell of your hardness and feel no shame. You have taught me desires of the flesh, sensitized my body to pleasure, burning away all inhibition.

She knew.

She kept her gaze trained on his manhood, at the shaft that was already thickly engorged, yet she wasn't as tranquil as she pretended. Her heart was pounding as she ran her hand lightly down his torso, following the feathery trail of hair over his belly, caressing him the way he'd taught her on their wedding night.

It fascinated her, the contrasts beneath her fingers – the sinewy hardness of his stomach… the velvet steel of his manhood… the downy softness of the sacs beneath. He jerked slightly when she touched him there, the heavy testicles tightening as she cupped him lightly.

"Aurora…" he rasped.

Enthralled by his response, she extended her exploration. With trembling fingers she moved upward, rimming the engorged crest of his arousal, teasing the sensitive ridge. When he shivered at her touch, she grew bolder, tracing the sleek contours, stroking the throbbing length, so swollen with heat.

Eventually her fingers folded completely around his manhood, enclosing the velvet-sheathed hardness and squeezing lightly. The thick length surged in her hand, swelling to fit her grasp. With rising confidence, she drew her hand slowly downward, then up again, creating an exquisite friction.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Nicholas asked in a strangled voice moments later.

"I had an excellent tutor," Aurora murmured.

"I don't recall teaching you that."

"Not that specifically, perhaps. But you taught me not to fear a man's body. You taught me about pleasure and arousal. The journal suggested the rest."

He was so hard under the hot, silky skin, so magnificently erect. Yet what amazed her was how simply touching him could affect her so strongly, how stroking him could stroke her own desire. She felt hot all over; her nerves, her skin, her pulse felt incredibly alive, while a sweet ache had begun throbbing between her thighs.

Her gaze locked with his, the clamor of her heart echoing his unspoken question.

Shivering with anticipation, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and bent her head to taste the male shaft that could give so much pleasure. It was shameless, brazen, yet thrilling to have this strong, vibrant man at her mercy.

When her mouth touched the distended tip, he seemed to stop breathing altogether, and her sense of power swelled. She glanced up to see that Nicholas's eyes had closed. Holding the base of his rigid length, she slid her tongue gently around the pulsing head. She felt his body clench.

"Am I doing this right?" she whispered.

His response was a strangled groan. "Exquisitely right. Don't stop."

She had no intention of stopping. Exploring the forbidden delights of his body was too sensuously exciting.

He felt the same excitement, Aurora knew, despite her lack of experience. She felt his hand touch her hair, guiding her lightly as her tongue circled the smooth, glistening crest, but his powerful body had gone rigid, his hips straining to keep from moving as she explored him with her mouth and tongue.

Letting her feminine instincts take over, she took him fully in her mouth, enveloping the thick bulbous tip with her lips. The shocking pleasure of it left her weak. He was scalding hot, pulsing with life, and her gentle suckling made him surge even larger and longer.

She heard him groan and looked up to see his hard virile face taut and rapt with ecstasy. Aurora felt a thrill of pleasure. She wanted to make him groan, wanted him writhing with need.

Almost eagerly she bent to him again, her hair spilling around him, over his stomach and groin as she renewed her sensual assault. His body clenched harder, and he arched against the blanket as his hands moved to clutch her hair.

He was actually shaking, Aurora realized. Excitement coursed through her, heightening the hungry longing in her own loins. Her own desire was burgeoning, her secret flesh wet and pulsing.

Fire beating through her senses, she feverishly stepped up her assault, her fingers fondling his stiffened sacs as she tormented him with suckling caresses.

His breathing turned harsh and ragged. He was nearing climax, she knew. She could feel him shuddering deep in her throat.

His self-control broke a moment later. With a low guttural sound, Nicholas pulled back abruptly. Turning on his side away from her, he spent himself, his body convulsing in an explosion of need, his shaft lifting and jerking helplessly as his seed gushed hot and milky onto the grass.

Aurora watched his wrenching, powerful release in awe, exhilarated by her own power to make such a strong man so helpless.

Drained, limp, he slowly rolled onto his back. But it was a long moment before he opened his eyes. "It seems I owe the journal a debt of gratitude."

Aurora felt herself flush at the heated intensity of his gaze – and at his brazenness. He made no move to cover his nakedness. She was suddenly unaccountably embarrassed by her own wanton behavior. She looked away.

"You don't mean to turn shy, siren?" Nicholas murmured. "Not now, when it is my turn to pleasure you."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm. Aurora felt herself shudder at the intense heat that simple gesture aroused in her. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away. "I think perhaps I have been daring enough for one evening."

"There is only one trouble. A taste of you only makes me want more. I want to spend the rest of the night making love to you."

Her breath faltered. "You cannot."

"Why not?" He reached up, beneath her cloak, to caress her breast. She winced when he found the sensitive peaked nipple beneath the thin muslin of her gown. "You're highly aroused, Aurora. You want me. Your body is eager for release, for pleasure."

She couldn't reply. Her instinctive wariness had returned with a vengeance, along with the warning voice clamoring in her head, urging her to beware his sensual blandishments.

When she didn't answer, Nicholas sat up. Lifting his fingers to her lips, he brushed them with the lightest of pressure. Aurora shut her eyes as a dizzying wave of need rushed through her. Her desire for him was a physical ache, throbbing and urgent.

She feared the strength of that desire, and yet the simple truth was she couldn't deny herself the pleasure of his touch.

When he started to draw her into his arms, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Glancing around, she realized how revealing the moonlit darkness was. Though largely concealed by willows, they were still too visible for Aurora's comfort. "Not here, Nicholas…"

"You're right. We should find a bed. Where do you want to go?"

She took a deep breath, throwing prudence and caution to the wind. "Take me home."

"Gladly."

With a faint smile, he rearranged his clothing and fastened the buttons of his various garments. Then getting to his feet, he held his hand down to her. She took it with trembling fingers.

Scooping up the blanket, Nicholas led her to the curricle and handed her up. When he settled himself beside her and took up the reins, he gave one last look at the shore of the shining lake.

"After this evening," he murmured without any trace of amusement, "I will never see this place in quite the same way."

Nor would she, Aurora thought. From this point forward, whenever she visited the park, she would always remember this moment with Nicholas.

They were mostly silent on their way home. Aurora felt her heart hammering in conflict as she questioned the wisdom of her decision. Inviting Nicholas into her bed was like unleashing a caged tiger: she was very likely to be wounded.

Already her emotions were greatly at risk. And becoming even more intimate with him would blatantly endanger the serenity she'd striven so hard to find.

Yet she had taken this course and would see it through to the conclusion. She only hoped that her calculations had been right. That once he claimed her as a conquest, he would abandon the chase. And that he would tire of his pursuit before she was too badly hurt.

When she reached home, however, worries about her plan were driven out of her head as they turned into the drive at the rear of the house. She could see lights blazing from many of the rooms.

"Something has happened," Aurora murmured, trying to stem her alarm.

The moment Nicholas drew the curricle to a halt, Aurora scrambled down and ran up the back steps. Nicholas's tiger, who had been waiting patiently for their return, came to hold the horses, leaving Nicholas to follow her inside the house.

She was met in the hallway by her butler, who looked as if he'd been roused from sleep. Danby wore a dressing gown over his nightshirt and a cap over his gray hair, while his elderly face sported a grave expression.

"My lady, is aught amiss? We were concerned for you when we could not find you anywhere in the house."

Aurora lifted her chin, determined to brazen out her actions. She had no reason to cower before her servants in shame. "I went for a drive. What has happened, Danby? Why is the entire household awake?"

"The Earl of March has arrived, my lady."

For a moment Aurora's heart seemed to stop. Geoffrey could not have called, for he had perished at sea nearly a year ago. Then she remembered that his ten-year-old brother, Harry, had inherited the title.

"Harry is here? In London?"

"Yes, my lady. He is currently in the kitchens. He was… er… hungry after his travels."

"His travels? What do you mean? Did his mother bring him?"

"No, my lady. Only young Lord March – "

Just then a blond-haired boy came bounding into the hall from the stairway that led to the kitchens. He was dressed in breeches and jacket, but his hair was mussed and his young face that looked so much like Geoffrey's was actually dirty.

"Rory, am I ever so glad to see you – " When he spied Nicholas, the boy came to a halt. Much to her surprise, his hands curled into fists, and he stood there glowering at Nicholas. "Who are you?" he demanded angrily.

"Harry," Aurora said sharply in protest. "Where are your manners?"

"I am Lady Aurora's cousin by marriage, Brandon Deverill," Nicholas said mildly.

"You have no right to be here!" the boy nearly growled.

"Harry, this gentleman is a guest in my house. You will mind your tongue."

Still scowling, he cast Aurora an accusing look. "You cannot have forgotten my brother already? It has been only a year since he died. One year exactly today."

Aurora winced. She hadn't remembered that today was the anniversary of the tragic shipwreck. "No," she said guiltily. "The date may have slipped my mind, but I could never forget Geoffrey."

"Then what is he doing here, calling at this time, of night?"

She took a measured breath. "You have no authority to ask such questions, my young lordling. Furthermore, as a relation, Nic – Mr. Deverill has every right to call here. Now it is your turn to give me some answers. What are you doing here in London? Especially at this hour of night?"

For the first time, Harry's scowl faded to uncertainty. "I've run away from home, Rory. Mama has become insufferable. Please, you must allow me to stay with you."

Chapter Fourteen

He touched me with startling tenderness, as if even my heart belonged to him .

"So tell me, Harry, how did you manage to find your way to London?" Aurora asked a short while later as she and Nicholas sat with the boy at the servants' table in the kitchen. To her exasperation, Nicholas had remained without invitation and simply made himself at home, and she hadn't wanted to argue with him in front of her unexpected young guest.

Harry looked up from munching on a meal of cold chicken and scones and apples. "The stage. It was ever so much fun. I rode on top first and then in the box. That was famous! The coachman let me take the reins, but only for a moment because some of the passengers complained about my driving."

"You traveled all the way from Sussex alone?" Aurora said, dismayed. "Don't you realize how dangerous that was? You could have been robbed or – "

"Oh, the stage was not dangerous in the least. It was only when I arrived at the posting inn that I almost landed in the briars. It was quite crowded, and I had to inquire about directions, and there were three fellows who looked like footpads. But when they tried to detain me, I showed them my fives and ran away."

Aurora shuddered to think what might have happened to a child alone at night on the London streets.

"I am not a complete gudgeon, Rory," he said when he saw her expression. "I can take care of myself. They stole my bundle, though." Harry suddenly looked glum. "It had my favorite ship in it."

"Ship?" Nicholas asked curiously.

The boy gave him a wary look, as if debating whether to trust him. "Admiral Nelson's flagship, the Victory. It was made of tin. My brother gave it to me." As if remembering Geoffrey, the boy suddenly sent Aurora an accusing look. "Danby did not want to let me in. He would not believe that I was Lord March, since I was in leading strings the last time he saw me. And you were not here to vouch for me."

She fought the urge to squirm, knowing she must look like a wanton. She had removed her cloak, and her hair was in disarray, tumbling down her back. "Does your mother know you've run away?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Harry grinned impishly. "By now, she does. But I did leave her a note, telling her I intended to live with you."

"Harry, your mother will be frantic with worry."

"I know. That is why I ran away. She is in a quake all the time. She is smothering me, Rory. And this past week, it was even worse than usual, because Geoffrey passed on one year ago."

"She would be understandably upset," Aurora said patiently. "You are her only child now, Harry – "

"I know. Mama is muttonheaded when it comes to Geoff. But she raises a dust if I even leave the house! She means to keep me in leading strings till I am full grown, Rory. It is ever so plaguey."

Aurora frowned. "Where did you learn such vulgar cant?"

"From Tom, the groundskeeper. Do you mean to ring a peal over me, Rory? If so, then go ahead, but I shan't go home again, so there is no use trying to make me. If you will not let me live with you, I will just have to find someone else who will take me in."

Aurora hesitated to answer. She was eager to help Harry, not only because she was extremely fond of him, but also because she wanted to appease her guilt. She had neglected the boy dreadfully this past year. He'd lost a brother he idolized and then had been forced to endure his mama's protective smothering. Lady March was not generally the scatterbrained sort, but she had been devastated at her elder son's death and was determined that nothing would befall her younger son. Aurora could well understand why Harry would finally rebel and seek refuge with someone he considered a friend. Yet she didn't want to encourage or abet his rebellion.

Before she could express her reservations, however, Harry spoke again.

"It will not be for long, for I mean to join the navy and fight the Frogs, like Geoffrey."

"You mean to do what?"

"I am going to run away to sea. I want to have real adventures, but Mama will never let me. She will not even permit me to fish in our own streams. I cannot go near water because she is afraid I will drown like Geoffrey did."

"I know something about running off to sea," Nicholas interjected mildly.

"You do?" Harry's look became interested. "You sound like a Colonial."

"I am American. But I have some experience with the British navy. There are numerous sailors on my ships who were impressed illegally by your country and forced to serve."

"You are a ship's captain?" His eyes lit up.

"Not a captain. Owner. I have a fleet of merchant ships."

"A fleet! That is capital!"

Nicholas smiled. "If you knew the hardships you would face in your navy, you would not want to join, believe me. The life of a tar is remarkably unpleasant compared to the one you're accustomed to. You would do much better to apprentice in the merchant marine."

Aurora gave Nicholas a quelling look, annoyed that he would encourage the boy in such wild fantasies. "Harry is going to join neither."

Harry's jaw set mutinously as he clutched his drumstick. "I am, Rory."

Nicholas shook his head. "Well, this is not the way to go about it. Not only would you distress your mother, but you are ill-prepared to begin your venture. I'll wager you don't even have a letter of introduction."

"I must have a letter?"

"If you want to be more than a scullery, you do. You need someone in a position of authority to vouchsafe your character, and you will need money to outfit your sea chest."

"I have money. I am quite rich."

"Then instead of becoming a tar, you might consider buying your own ship and becoming the employer. Trust me, that would be far more agreeable than swabbing decks from morning till night."

Harry grinned broadly, obviously keen on this new idea.

Nicholas returned a slow grin of his own. Watching his irresistible smile, Aurora felt a knife of longing twist inside her. She should have known he could relate to a rebellious boy. The encounter gave her a glimpse of what Nicholas must have been like at that age. And yet she was dismayed to see him using his ruthless charm to wrap Harry around his thumb.

Waving the drumstick, the boy went off on another fantasy. "If I had my own ship, I could go to France and spy on the Frogs, like Geoffrey."

"What do you mean, like Geoffrey?" Aurora asked.

"He was on a secret mission when his yacht sank – " Harry glanced around him surreptitiously. "Oh, I should not have said that. Geoffrey made me promise not to tell."

Aurora put no credence in Harry's comment. She could not possibly conceive of bookish Geoffrey dashing off to France to spy. Perhaps Harry simply had concocted that tale to give meaning to his brother's senseless death at sea.

Evidently he was even more in need of a friend than she first suspected.

There was no question that she would be that friend. She felt a strong duty toward the boy. Harry had been underfoot much of the time when he was growing up, even when Geoffrey was officially courting her. Harry was horse mad and had wanted any excuse to visit the Eversley stables. And he had trusted her judgment in horseflesh more than his brother's. She, rather than Geoffrey, had chosen his first pony.

She had always thought of him as a younger brother, and he would have been her brother by marriage had not fate so callously intervened. Moreover, she well knew what it was like to want to escape a domineering parent. So despite her qualms about abetting his rebellion, she would allow Harry to remain with her for now. At least until she could persuade him to give up his nonsense about running off to sea in search of adventure.

When he yawned hugely, Aurora realized he was exhausted. "You should be in bed," she said gently. "I'm certain we can sort this out in the morning."

"You won't send me home?"

"Not immediately, although I shall write your mother directly in the morning and let her know you have arrived safely, and ask her permission to let you stay with me for a visit."

"You are a grand sport, Rory!" Getting up from the table, he ran around to her side and threw his arms around her neck.

Aurora couldn't help but smile. "Did you say you had lost your clothing? We shall have to find you a suitable nightshirt."

Danby, who was hovering discreetly just outside the door, appeared as if summoned. Aurora extricated herself from the boy's bear hug. "Would you please see Lord March settled in the green bedchamber, Danby?"

"As you wish, my lady."

When Harry started to follow the butler, Aurora stopped him. "One moment, my young lordling. I believe you owe Mr. Deverill an apology."

Harry turned to Nicholas with reluctant contrition. "I am very sorry if I was rude, sir. Will you please forgive me?"

"You're forgiven," Nicholas said easily.

"And if I promise to behave, will you tell me about your ships?"

Nicholas smiled. "I would be happy to."

"Thank you." Harry glanced at Aurora. "He is not as bad as I feared, Rory."

When the boy was gone, Aurora felt Nicholas's gaze settle on her.

"He calls you Rory?"

"Harry could not pronounce my name when he was young, so I have always been Rory to him. I apologize for his earlier outburst. He really is a delightful boy."

"I can see that." Nicholas paused. "You handled him well. You would make a good mother."

Their eyes met, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thought she was. What would their children have been like had their marriage been real and lasting?

Mentally Aurora chastised herself. She would be a fool to let herself dream of a true union with Nicholas. He wasn't the kind of man to give his heart to one woman. Love was a game to him, an adventure. He would satisfy a woman's carnal desires beyond her wildest imaginings, she had absolutely no doubt. But he would feel nothing deeper.

And with no stronger emotions to bind him, how long would it be before his restless urge to roam overtook him? Before the siren call of danger lured him from her side? Before he left her alone and heartbroken?

No, Aurora reminded herself as an ache of sadness twisted in her chest. There was no possibility of having children with Nicholas…

She suddenly caught her breath, remembering the unfinished matter between them. Nicholas was here, in her kitchen, because she had invited him to share her bed. Sweet heaven…

All at once the moment was filled with a new kind of tension. When his eyes caressed her, Aurora shifted in her seat, uneasy under his dark perusal.

Her resolve to keep him at a distance had nearly shattered this evening. She was suddenly grateful Harry had arrived when he had. Although he presented a problem – and was another unexpected male in her life – he had saved her from making a dreadful mistake.

"I think you should go," she murmured, her voice suddenly hoarse.

"You didn't feel that way an hour ago."

"An hour ago I was suffering from a touch of moon madness. And I did not know Harry would run away from home and seek refuge here."

"So you mean to hide behind him." It was not a question. "To use him as a convenient excuse to deny the desire you feel for me."

"No, Nicholas – "

"Yes. You're fooling yourself, Aurora. Deceiving yourself about what you really want."

"That isn't true. I was inexcusably rash this evening – " Aurora shook her head. "I have to think of my responsibilities. I have a duty toward Harry. His brother is gone, and Geoffrey would have wanted me to watch over him."

When Nicholas stared at her steadily, she added defensively, "It would be disloyal to Geoffrey's memory for me to be intimate with you tonight. I should never have forgotten that today is the anniversary of his death. It was unforgivable of me."

Nicholas's mouth tightened. "What is unforgivable is you burying yourself alive in the past. You have to forget your former betrothed, Aurora, and move on with your life."

She averted her gaze. "It is not so easy to forget the death of someone you love." Her voice dropped to a low murmur. "You cannot conceive what it was like for me to lose Geoffrey. He was more than my betrothed. He was a dear friend, someone I had loved nearly from the cradle. And after losing my mother – " Abruptly she bit off the sentence, her throat tightening at the memory. Nicholas wouldn't understand the rage of loss, the desolate feeling of helplessness, the unbearable loneliness she had felt at losing Geoffrey, too.

She had been devastated when her beloved mother had succumbed to an influenza epidemic. Geoffrey had been her solace, had comforted her and helped ease her anguish. And then he had died as well. It was so unfair that he had been cut down in the prime of life. But then… she had learned how useless it was to rail against fate.

Forcing back the pain as she always did, Aurora rose abruptly. "I don't intend to argue with you about this, Nicholas. I trust you can show yourself out."

She turned to leave but his soft voice stopped her. "Aurora."

She wouldn't look at him. She heard him scrape back his chair, felt his nearness as he came up behind her. His arms encircled her, holding her lightly.

"Don't push me away," he said into her hair.

Her throat constricted. Heat pulsed through her, while need rose up in her like the pressure of tears.

As he drew her back against his hard, muscular form, she was reminded all over again why it was dangerous to have anything to do with Nicholas. The fierce desire she felt for him was a fiery ache inside her. She didn't want him to leave, didn't want to push him away, and yet a desperate need for self-preservation was clamoring within her, warning her to save herself.

"I was mistaken to have invited you here," she whispered. "I don't want to become intimate with you again. I can't."

"Why not?" His hand rose to shape the curve of her breast, the mound filling his palm. "We are husband and wife. We need no more license than that to become lovers."

"To what end?" Her voice was raw. "A momentary pleasure?"

He hesitated a long moment. "What is so wrong with a momentary pleasure?"

She shut her eyes. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, feel his palm erotically cupping her breast, and she had to force back a moan.

"You, Nicholas," she said raggedly. "You are what is wrong. You are the last man I would ever willingly choose as my lover. I could not bear to form an attachment to a man who risks death for the sheer sport of it. I have had enough of death. First my mother, then Geoffrey… I won't open myself to that kind of hurt again."

"I am not asking you to."

"You are. You have accused me of hiding from my feelings. Perhaps I do, but it is less painful that way."

"Less painful, yes, but infinitely less fulfilling." His own voice was a rough whisper. "Do you really want to go through life missing the joys, the triumphs? What point is there in living if you wall yourself from everything that gives meaning to life? From excitement, from desire, from passion?"

When she didn't answer, he pressed his mouth against her hair. "Can you really hold yourself so aloof, Aurora? Can you deny your own wild yearning? Are you that strong?"

He was speaking to every forbidden impulse she had ever had. Desperately Aurora shook her head. She had to resist, had to fight her traitorous need for him. Surrendering to her desire would be madness, would lead only to hurt. Already she had come to feel too deeply for him. Already Nicholas had caught her in his powerful spell…

She had to end it now, before she was too late.

"You are wrong," she said, almost pleading. "I don't want passion. I want only to be left alone."

"I don't believe that. I remember the captivating woman you were in our marriage bed. I won't let you forget the passionate lover you were that night."

"Nicholas, please…just… go."

In answer he turned her slowly to face him, his arms at her waist lightly holding her captive, his searching eyes dark and intent. She stood helplessly looking up at him, drowning in his gaze.

"Aurora…" The word was a sensual husk of a whisper.

Then he bent his head.

Aurora gave a soft moan of protest as she pressed her hands against his chest. She didn't want his kiss… didn't want to feel his warm lips moving upon hers, to open to him and take his breath into her mouth. Didn't want to lift her arms and entwine her fingers in his hair, to feel this wild, throbbing hunger that he alone could rouse in her…

His kiss deepened, becoming heated and urgent, while his arms tightened around her. Aurora made, a soft whimpering sound of need. She was keenly aware of his hard body, the rigid evidence of his mounting desire pressing against her. She heard his breath become more ragged as his devouring mouth plundered her own.

Excitement flared through her senses at the promise of the unbearable pleasure he offered. He wanted her. And heaven help her, she wanted him…

At that moment she heard a footfall on the steps leading to the kitchen. Alarm rippled through Aurora, giving her the strength to pull away from his forbidden embrace.

She was safely across the room, her heart thrumming erratically, her body still vibrating with riotous sensations, when Danby appeared.

"Young Lord March is being attended to, my lady," the butler informed her. "Is there anything else you wish?"

Aurora struggled for command of her passion-hazed senses. "Yes, Danby," she managed in a shaky voice. "Will you see Mr… Deverill out? He was just leaving."

Without another glance at Nicholas, she fled.

Watching her, Nick locked his jaw, willing himself not to follow. He sure as hell hadn't wanted to let her go. Yet maybe it was fortunate they had been interrupted, for he might not have stopped kissing Aurora until he was sheathed deep within her. He'd been so blinded with need, he could have taken her right there, in her kitchen.

It was only when he was driving his curricle back to his hotel, however, that Nicholas had time to consider his ravenous craving.

He was hard pressed to explain the power Aurora held over him. He had never met another woman whose touch produced such a blaze of desire in him. What was it about her that made her so damned tempting?

She was beautiful, true. She possessed a spellbinding combination of beauty and wit, intelligence and grace, that he'd rarely found in any other woman. Her resistance to his wooing, too, made her unique among her sex.

Unquestionably, he was driven by the challenge she presented. Not only did his competitive nature compel him to try to win the battle of wills between them, but having her so near, yet untouchable, was a sweet, sexual hell that roused his every primal male instinct.

But what he felt went far deeper than mere competitiveness or lust. Without realizing it, he'd become caught up in desire. The desire to claim her fully as his.

He was playing with fire, he knew, but never before had he been so willing to be burned.

Nick's mouth twisted in a dark smile. His friends and family would be amazed to find him so enamored of a woman – certainly of his own wife. But whether he wanted Aurora so intensely because she'd bewitched him or because she continued to deny him, he was less inclined than ever simply to walk away.

What had begun as a practical resolve to fulfill an obligation to his father and make the best of an unwanted marriage had somehow become a vital need. The more he came to know Aurora, the more certain he was that he wanted her for his wife.

He wasn't wrong about her. She had a wild spirit inside her that longed to be free. Her exquisite ministrations earlier in the park had proven that. Her momentary daring had startled and delighted him, giving him a savage release that had left him temporarily sated.

His triumph had been short-lived, though.

Remembering, Nicholas cursed. To see her retreat back into her self-protective cocoon afterward had infuriated him. He had wanted to shake some sense into her. And when she had spoken so tenderly of her love for her late betrothed, he had wanted to hit something.

Fierce possessiveness flooded Nick at the memory. He was jealous of a dead man. Her idolization of the late, great Geoffrey, Lord March, was enraging. But until she got over her memories of March, she would never be able to move on with her life… or give herself freely to anyone else. To him.

Nick set his jaw grimly. He was accustomed to rescuing damsels in distress, but usually the peril came from a physical threat. This time, however, he would save Aurora from herself.

He would claim her for his wife… and he would make her forget that she had ever loved another man.

Chapter Fifteen

He made his intent clear; he was determined to have me, body and soul.

Contrary to Aurora's hopes, young Harry's arrival in London did little to solve her dilemma: how to avoid her persistent, unwanted husband. Rather Harry's visit merely gave Nicholas further pretext for intimacy. He called at her house frequently, ostensibly to entertain Harry and take him to see the sights of London.

Their almost instant camaraderie greatly dismayed Aurora. Nicholas had won over the boy with his tales of ships and seafaring, along with liberal doses of charm. Yet she was reluctant to disappoint her newest young charge by refusing Nicholas entry to her home.

Frequently she was even grateful for his intervention. It was no small task, keeping an energetic ten-year-old occupied. She took Harry on her morning rides in the park, but that hardly scratched the surface of his adventurous itch. He wanted to see the world, beginning with every inch of London.

Fortunately – or unfortunately for convention's sake – Raven befriended him, and the two could often be found racing through the park like wild Indians. Aurora could hardly scold, since she had instigated the morning gallops in the first place.

Even wild gallops, however, could not compete with the entertainments Nicholas offered. Harry came home wide-eyed and excited when they visited Exeter ‘Change to see the tigers and Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, which boasted curiosities from Africa and the Americas. Three days later he suffered a stomachache from eating too much gingerbread when they attended a local fair with conjurers and tumblers and rope dancers.

When Aurora fretted that Nicholas was overindulging the boy, he brushed off her concerns and told her not to worry.

"Of course I worry," she responded. "I am responsible for him."

"I won't allow him to come to any harm, I promise you."

She had to be content with that, but there was no question Nicholas was encouraging Harry to test his wings, or that the boy had contracted a feverish case of hero-worship.

Raven accompanied them to Astley's Royal Amphitheater for a spectacle of acrobatics on horseback. The next day Harry attempted one of the feats of horsemanship and fell off his mount, skinning his knees and bloodying his chin.

Aurora was alarmed, but Nicholas reminded her that skinned knees were a rite of boyhood. When she would have continued protesting, he warned her not to try to rein the boy in too tightly, or he would think she was smothering him as his mother did.

Still, she didn't like it that Nicholas was aiding and abetting Harry's rebellion.

The final straw was Burford's Panorama in Castle Street, which offered murals of, among other things, the naval victories of Admiral Nelson on the Nile. All Harry could talk about afterward was going to sea.

"I think perhaps it's best if you cease taking him to any more entertainments," Aurora told Nicholas during their morning ride the following day.

"Why?"

"Because Harry is an impressionable young boy. I dread to think what wild notions he is picking up from you."

"I would hardly call an exhibit of Egyptian hieroglyphics wild."

"It is not the entertainment but your company that concerns me. You are scarcely the best influence, Nicholas."

"Brandon, please, my love."

Aurora raised her eyes to the sky. "It disturbs me that Harry is becoming so attached to you. I don't like to consider how disappointed he will be when you must leave." Or how she herself would feel. "He sees you as a hero because of all your adventures."

"From all reports, I don't hold a candle to his late brother for adventures. According to Harry, your Geoffrey was a spy."

Aurora shook her head. "Harry is quite mistaken. Geoffrey was the last man who would ever become involved in spying."

"Why do you say so?"

"He was far too intellectual. He always had his nose in a book."

"He sounds deadly dull."

The accusation irked her, yet Aurora found herself averting her gaze in chagrin. She had scarcely thought of Geoffrey in the fortnight since Nicholas's arrival in England.

A sharp ache filled her at the realization, along with a profound surge of guilt. How could she be so disloyal to Geoffrey's memory? She had known him all her life, but she could barely remember him now, his image was so eclipsed by Nicholas's vital presence.

Compared to Nicholas, he was only a shadow.

Aurora pressed her lips together, determined to conquer her disloyalty. "Geoffrey was a proper gentleman, yes," she replied curtly, "and a gentle man. He would never leave his home and family and risk his life simply for the thrill of it. Unlike some others I know," she added pointedly.

"Like I said… dull."

When Aurora bristled, Nicholas only grinned and gestured with his head toward a grove of trees beside the Serpentine. "I'll wager your dear Geoffrey would never have thought of bringing you here, or that you would ever have serviced him so delightfully if he had."

She realized they were passing the spot where Nicholas had brought her for a moonlit interlude, and she flushed. When she looked at him, though, the devilish light in his eyes faded, and so did the rest of the world.

Aurora froze, ensnared by the silent intensity of Nicholas's gaze. The raw tension that had lain simmering beneath the surface had returned in a heartbeat with the force of a blow… along with another dangerous emotion.

Desire. It flared up in her, swiftly, uncontrollably, at a single glance.

For the past two weeks she'd done her utmost to pretend indifference, to ignore the fierce longing Nicholas roused in her, but it was still keenly alive, smoldering between them.

At some point she would have to face it, Aurora realized. Unwilling, however, to deal with the issue just then, she forced her gaze away.

Yet she knew the volatile situation between them could not continue very much longer.

Even with Harry to shield her, Nicholas's pursuit of her showed no sign of abating, and it kept Aurora in a constant state of conflict. He was turning her life upside down, just as she feared, destroying her hard-won equanimity. It dismayed her, how vulnerable she was to him.

It was more dismaying to remember the danger he faced. The following afternoon, Aurora was rudely reminded just how precarious Nicholas's situation was: she received a letter from her cousin Percy in St. Kitts, wondering if she had heard from Nicholas.

Aurora feverishly devoured the contents, which implied that at least one earlier missive had gone astray.

Since I last wrote you, I have concluded that the rumors of Nicholas's survival must be true. Not only are there reports he was seen in the Caribbean since his presumed drowning, but yesterday I was questioned by naval officers searching for the pirate Captain Saber.

If Nicholas is indeed alive, my dear, you should prepare yourself for scandal, for legally you will still be his wedded wife. I now can only regret my part in arranging your marriage…

Percy also apologized for deceiving her about the hanging.

Nick thought it best to spare you the trauma of watching him die. And knowing the pain you had recently suffered with the loss of your betrothed, I agreed.

It was not Percy's deception, however, that alarmed Aurora. It was knowing that before long the world would realize the condemned criminal she had wed was still a fugitive from British naval justice.

Her fingers clenched the letter. She couldn't let this situation go on. It terrified her that Nicholas was risking capture and death to pursue her. She had to make him see reason, to convince him to leave England.

She made an earnest attempt the next day during their morning ride. She'd gotten a later start than usual because Harry's mount had gone lame from a stone bruise and had to be replaced. When Aurora and Harry finally arrived, the park was already filling with governesses and their young charges.

Aurora joined Nicholas and Raven for a sedate ride along Rotten Row, while Harry spurred his mount on, with her groom following close behind. Raven, for once, chose decorum over excitement, so Aurora was forced to hold her tongue and wait for a private word with Nicholas.

Shortly they encountered an open barouche, where an elegant couple was descending with a very young child.

Aurora tensed in alarm when she recognized the Baron and Baroness Sinclair. Damien Sinclair, once known as "Lord Sin," had been a premier rake of England and a prime leader of the Hellfire League before his marriage. There was every possibility, she knew, that he could identify Nicholas.

Aurora hoped to ride quietly past. She greatly admired Lord Sinclair's wife, Vanessa, for they had struck up a friendship during Aurora's come-out a few years earlier, but she had no desire to be seen just then.

As they passed the barouche, however, Vanessa Sinclair spied her and greeted her warmly. Unable to avoid acknowledging the acquaintance, Aurora drew rein.

Lord and Lady Sinclair made a striking couple. Their young daughter, Catherine, was perhaps eighteen months old and just as striking, with her father's raven hair and mother's dark eyes.

With great reluctance, Aurora introduced her party and felt apprehensive when Sinclair eyed Nicholas curiously. She was relieved for the distraction when the toddler squirmed in her father's arms and pointed toward the lake, exclaiming, "Duck! Duck!"

"We are teaching her to feed the ducks," Vanessa said, laughing.

"If you will please excuse us," Sinclair said with the sensual smile that had broken half the female hearts in England. "I've learned it is better never to leave an impatient lady waiting."

Before Vanessa turned away, she apologized to Aurora for not calling recently. "We have been in the country this past fortnight. But if you are free one afternoon this week, I would very much like to come for a visit."

"I would enjoy that immensely, and I hope you will bring Catherine."

Vanessa smiled at this interest in her daughter. "Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Deverill."

"And you, my lady," Nicholas replied, tipping his beaver hat.

Aurora breathed more easily when they were gone, but gave Nicholas an accusing look. "Sinclair seemed to know you."

"That isn't surprising. I met him briefly several years ago before he married, during a weekend of shooting in the country."

"I hear he was quite the rake," Raven said thoughtfully.

"He was," Nicholas acknowledged. "But according to Clune, Sinclair is very much in love with his wife now."

"I could tell by the way he looked at her," Raven replied softly.

Aurora caught the wistful note in her voice, and so apparently did Nicholas, for he gave his half sister a measuring look. "It is not too late to reconsider your marital aspirations, puss. You don't have to wed for financial considerations. You can afford the luxury of a love match."

Raven shook her head adamantly. "I will be quite content with a title. Speaking of which… there is Halford."

Raven adopted a brilliant smile and urged her horse forward to intercept Aurora's former suitor, the Duke of Halford.

Aurora tensed at his appearance and watched as he gave a start of surprise at Raven's bold greeting. Then he glanced Aurora's way, and his look turned icy.

Involuntarily Aurora winced, shuddering to think of her narrow escape. If not for her marriage to Nicholas, she would have been planning her nuptials to Halford by now.

His grace's frigid glance swept past her to include Nicholas, who met his stiffness with cool amusement.

"I am honored," Nicholas murmured to Aurora in an undertone, "that you chose me over him."

Before she could think of a fitting reply, Halford turned his attention back to Raven. His supercilious expression softened, and whatever he said made her laugh.

Aurora frowned to hear her friend's charming laugh. She didn't like to see Raven on such good terms with the duke, for he was still looking for a wife.

"She knows her own mind," Nicholas said, as if reading her thoughts.

Aurora shook her head. Most young ladies of marriageable age would consider Halford prime husband material, but she didn't care to think what his coldness would do to someone with Raven's lively spirit. "They would not be the least compatible."

"But then you might not be the best qualified to judge suitors, considering the state of your own marriage."

Nicholas was watching her, Aurora realized, his amusement suddenly gone.

His solemnity made her recall the urgency of his situation and what she had meant to say to him.

"I heard from Percy yesterday," she remarked. "The entire Caribbean knows you escaped hanging."

"I expected as much."

"Nicholas…" She took a deep breath, striving for patience. "It is only a matter of time before someone in authority discerns your true identity. Please, won't you stop risking your life and return to America, where you will be safe?"

"I would consider it, certainly."

"You would?" Her eyes searched his.

"Yes," Nicholas replied slowly. "I would leave tomorrow under the right circumstances."

"And what are those?"

"If you agree to come with me. As my wife."

She stared at him a long moment. He was all seriousness now; the charming rogue was gone. Instead he emanated the keen intensity she had noticed about him when they had first met, when his life was at stake.

"I thought we had settled this," she responded uneasily.

"No, we never settled anything. We agreed to live separate lives for the time being. But since then, I have come to reconsider."

This was precisely what she had feared, Aurora thought, dismayed. "I have no desire to discuss our marriage," she murmured, wishing she had never begun this conversation.

"Ignoring it won't make it go away," he said just as quietly.

Aurora shut her eyes, knowing it was hopeless to try to argue with Nicholas in public. "Very well, we will discuss it."

"When?"

She averted her gaze from his potent one. "Tonight. Come to my house."

"Your bedchamber?"

She nodded reluctantly. "That is the only place where we can be private. I will leave the window open."

Wanting to escape, Aurora urged her horse forward, intending to intervene in Raven's ill-advised flirtation, but her thoughts remained on Nicholas and his dismaying revelation.

Aurora paced her bedchamber, every nerve ending she possessed alert and on edge. Another glance at the mantel clock showed the hour was nearing midnight, and still Nicholas didn't come.

She had tried reading, first a magazine and then the journal, but she was too restless to concentrate. Her mind was churning, preparing arguments to use in their forthcoming dispute. She had to convince Nicholas that she didn't wish to be his wife, that she deplored the very thought of living under the thumb of a dominating, forceful husband. Only recently had she even gained a measure of control over her life, over her fate. And now he was threatening to take that from her.

She would not accept defeat. She had to put an end to the constant state of turmoil that had afflicted her since his arrival in England.

She had no illusions that it would be easy; nothing with Nicholas was ever easy. It would take all her willpower to resist his influence and to persuade him to return to America without her.

And if her arguments failed?

Catching sight of herself in the cheval glass, Aurora came to a halt.

Then she would give him what he wanted. Her body.

Troubled, she stared at herself in the mirror. In the dim lamplight, the woman there was almost a stranger, her complexion flushed, her fair hair falling around her shoulders in casual dishevelment, but it was her attire that seemed foreign to her. She wore a dressing gown of deep blue brocade and nothing more.

She could feel the fabric pressing against her naked breasts, creating an erotic friction. Perhaps this was a mistake…

Aurora gave a start when she heard a soft scrape of sound behind her. Her nerves clanging, she turned to find Nicholas in her bedchamber. He stood just inside the window, observing her, his expression inscrutable.

When his gaze raked her dressing gown, lingering on her bosom, she nervously drew the lapels closer together.

"I am not sure there is any point to this discussion, Nicholas," Aurora began, gathering her courage. "I told you weeks ago I had no wish for a permanent marriage."

Moving farther into the room, he leaned a shoulder against the bedpost. "Weeks ago you were still reeling from the shock of my being alive. I didn't press you then because I thought you needed more time to consider."

"Well, I have considered. And my feelings have not changed."

"Mine have," he said softly.

"I cannot imagine why."

"Because I've come to know you better."

She turned away from the sensual look in his dark eyes and began to pace again.

"I think our marriage could work," Nicholas finally said, watching her restlessness.

"I don't see how."

"Aurora… why are you so opposed even to considering being my wife?"

"There are so many reasons, I don't know where to begin."

"Name one."

"Very well. For the first time in my life, I am free to live as I choose. Why would I wish to give that up?"

"Because you might find something better."

She gave him a searching glance. "Better? What could be better than independence?"

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. He had once felt the same way. "If you really wanted independence, love, you wouldn't hesitate to come with me to America. You will have far more freedom there than here in your rigid, upper-class society."

"Not as your wife, Nicholas. A wife has no rights whatsoever, not here or in America, either. I lived under my father's domination all my life. I won't endure that again."

He frowned at that, not liking the comparison. "I don't believe I am anything like your father."

"No? You are just as forceful as he is. And I think you might be just as ruthless. You would do anything to get your way – "

"I have no intention of trying to rule you. If I did, I would have demanded you return with me at once. I would never have given you a choice about our marriage."

"You don't seem to be giving me a choice now."

"Of course I am. I won't force you to be my wife."

She let out her breath in obvious relief.

Nick hesitated, at a loss about how to reassure her. "I think you have an impossibly dark vision of how it would be between us. Your fear seems almost irrational."

That made her stop her pacing. "It isn't irrational in the least. If I accompany you to America, I would have only you to rely upon. I would be completely dependent on you. What happens when you find life with me too tame? When the urge to wander strikes you? I would be alone in a strange country."

"I told you, I intend to settle down."

"And how long will your good intentions last? How long before you're lured away by the promise of adventure and danger? What would I do then?" She turned to face him directly, her gaze imploring. "You are asking me to risk everything to come with you, Nicholas. How can I trust you that much?"

The question made Nicholas wince, and he could only stare back at her. Her blue eyes were wide and dark like the ocean.

"You are focusing only on the possible disadvantages," he said finally. "Perhaps instead you should consider the advantages."

"I have considered them – and there is no contest. My life here may be dull, but at least I know what to expect." Aurora shook her head. "Besides, even if I wanted to go with you, I have responsibilities. Raven… Harry…"

"I have two sisters who could benefit from your guidance."

"What of your mother? She might not welcome another woman in her house."

That concern was unfounded Nick knew. "My mother would be no problem. In the first place, I have my own house, which I built to get out from underfoot of my family. And in the second, she would be delighted to have a new daughter, since she's despaired of ever seeing me wed." When Aurora had no response, he added truthfully, "If you're worried about leaving your horses behind, we have excellent horseflesh in Virginia. I can buy you a stableful of horses. And I have hundreds of acres where you can race to your heart's content."

Lifting her hand, Aurora rubbed her temple as if in pain. "This is not really even about me. This is about you. About the kind of man you are. Don't you see what you are doing? You are trying to rescue me from what you perceive as my discontent. You want to save me because it's so much part of your nature. You can't help yourself."

"There is far more to it than my nature," Nick replied.

"Is there? I think your nature is the heart of the problem." She hesitated. "Do you intend to be faithful to me, Nicholas?"

He didn't immediately answer.

Her smile was faint. "It is a reasonable question. How do I know you won't find someone else who arouses your interest? You desire me now, but how can you guarantee you will want me two years from now, or even two days?"

Averting his gaze, Nicholas considered the question. She was asking for more than fidelity in the marriage bed, he knew; she was asking him to remain by her side for always.

Was he willing to make that kind of commitment to Aurora? Essentially to give over his life to her?

"You don't love me," she said softly into the silence. "I'm not even certain you know what the word means."

"And you do?"

"Yes, I know. Love is kind and gentle and giving. It's laughing together, being comfortable and familiar. Sharing thoughts, common interests. It is a warm feeling in your heart… You cannot claim to feel that for me."

"You forgot passion."

"Perhaps, but passion is a weak foundation upon which to base a marriage. I don't doubt you feel desire for me, but it is purely carnal. Love is not desire."

He met her gaze directly. "You're saying you could never care for me?"

She hesitated. "I am saying I would be a fool to let myself care. I don't want to mourn you again, to grieve when you die. And it's entirely too likely that one day I will be forced to, that you will set out on one of your adventures and never come home."

"I cannot promise that I won't die, Aurora. No one can promise that."

"No. But you could try to keep yourself safe. You insist on risking your life and won't listen when I implore you to leave England." She searched his face. "Will you leave, Nicholas?"

His silence told her clearly enough his answer.

Aurora took a deep breath. "Very well, then. I will give you what you want."

Her fingers moved to the sash at her waist. When she hesitated, their gazes fused. Loosening the tie, she let the robe fall from her shoulders.

She heard Nicholas's sharp intake of breath as she stood there naked in the dim glow of lamplight.

"What are you doing, Aurora?" he asked, his voice not entirely steady.

"Letting you win. If I give you my body, then maybe you will leave me alone."

He clenched his jaw, looking like a man in pain. "I didn't come here for this."

"Didn't you? Isn't this what you have wanted for weeks? A momentary pleasure?"

"What I want is you, as my wife." His faint smile never reached his eyes. "If all I wanted was sex, I could find it countless places."

His dark gaze remained solemn as he moved to stand before her. "I want more than lovemaking from you, Aurora. I want you willing, hungry for me. I want you to give me your body because you can't bear not to. Not because you feel you must placate me or bribe me."

Her breath faltered as she stared up at him. "I… don't want you, Nicholas," she lied.

"No?"

Lifting his hand, he touched the column of her throat, then drew his finger slowly downward. Her heart beat wildly as he deliberately brushed a taut, aching nipple.

"You aren't as indifferent as you pretend," he murmured softly.

He turned away then and went to the window. Without another word, he disappeared into the night, leaving her standing there, stunned.

Nicholas had managed to confound her once again.

Trembling, Aurora reached down for her robe and covered her nakedness, then moved over to the bed and weakly sat down. She had lost again.

Nicholas was right. She was not indifferent to him. Not at all. The intense feelings he stirred in her were frightening. The wild restlessness alarming. He had only to touch her to prove his power over her.

Aurora shivered. He had asked if she could ever care for him. She would care too much, that was the trouble.

That reason alone was enough to fear having him for a husband, even aside from the issues of control or the vast differences between them. It would be unforgivably foolish to allow herself to love a man who was at risk of dying any moment.

Her sorrow when she'd thought Nicholas dead had been deep and cutting – and he had been virtually a stranger to her then. How much more devastated would she be once she learned to care for him? Once she learned to crave his touch?

And what if he left her? He hadn't been able to promise her fidelity just now; he hadn't answered her question at all.

Nicholas was a passionate man. It was quite possible he could develop a craving for some other woman, as his father had done. He would leave her to follow his heart – or, if he did honor his marriage vows, he would resent her for shackling him. He would be just like his father, entangled in the same misery.

Aurora winced at the thought. She couldn't do that to Nicholas, or to herself. No, her fear wasn't irrational in the least.

Her gaze fell on the journal, which she had left on the bedside table. Seeing it, Aurora felt her resolve strengthen. Most emphatically, she did not want to endure the Frenchwoman's fate, the kind of heartbreaking pain of losing the man she loved. She always wept over the final pages of the journal, for the tale did not end happily.

Nor had the affair between Raven's mother and Nicholas's father. Aurora could understand now why Elizabeth Kendrick had read the journal till the pages were worn; she had identified so deeply with the star-crossed lovers. Their passion was so powerful, their grief so devastating when they were ripped apart…

Aurora bit her lip hard. She would have to be stronger than either of those two tragic women had been, she vowed. The journal was an unintentional warning about the madness of desire, and she would do well to take heed. She had to zealously guard her heart from Nicholas, or the result would be disastrous.

Chapter Sixteen

I struggled fiercely against the dark turmoil of emotions he unleashed in me, but was I fighting him – or myself ?

Aurora was very much on Nick's mind that evening when, at Lord Clune's invitation, he attended a very private performance of a troupe of opera dancers. Their lovely charms held the all-male audience enthralled, but Nicholas remained uninspired and excused himself early.

He was surprised, however, when Clune followed him outside.

"You needn't interrupt your pleasure on my account, Dare," Nicholas said as they descended the front steps of the unassuming house in the theater district.

"I did not find the performance much of a pleasure, I'm afraid," Clune replied. "Truthfully, it has been ages since any entertainment has held me enthralled." He nodded toward his carriage, which awaited him a few paces along the darkened street. "May I offer you a lift back to your hotel? Or some other destination? A gaming club, perhaps?"

"I am returning to my hotel, but I planned to walk. You are welcome to join me, if you care to."

"Walk?" Clune said in amusement. "On foot? What a novel idea."

Patting his belly, Nick forced a grin. "This indolent life of a privileged gentleman is turning me shiftless and lazy."

"And restless, it seems."

"Ah, no, that is nothing new."

"You realize, of course, that you are taking your life in your hands, walking alone this near Covent Garden."

Nicholas raised his walking stick, which concealed a deadly rapier. "I could use some excitement to enliven the evening."

Clune cocked his head thoughtfully. "I share your ennui, if not your restlessness. Perhaps I will join you."

"Be my guest, but I warn you, I may not be the best of company just now."

"Then we will be well matched."

Nicholas sent him a penetrating glance. "Any particular reason you say so?"

"Nothing of consequence," Clune answered lightly. "Perhaps I'm merely growing jaded in my waning years. I suppose even a dedicated libertine can begin to tire of a life of sin and debauchery."

Tactfully Nicholas refrained from comment. Clune's age was hardly an issue – he was still in his early thirties at most – but the years of hard living were evidently taking a toll on his soul.

The earl dismissed his carriage and fell into step beside Nicholas. A moment later Clune spoke, sounding surprisingly serious. "To be honest, my dark mood is probably due to my grandfather."

"I hear Wolverton is faring poorly."

"Quite. He isn't expected to live out the month."

"Are you close?"

"Not in the least. He's a bloody tyrant. We haven't spoken in years, even though I'm his heir." dune's jaw hardened. "I won't weep when the old bastard breathes his last."

"You'll be a marquess then?"

"Yes, regrettably."

Nick waited for an explanation.

"I have no desire to assume the responsibilities that go with the title." Clune let out his breath in a sigh. "But I suppose we all must leave our youth behind at some point."

"True," Nicholas agreed, understanding that lament all too well.

For a while, each man was occupied by his own brooding thoughts. Eventually, however, Clune interrupted the silence again. "I take it your courtship of your wife is at an impasse?"

Nick's mouth twisted grimly. "Whatever gave you that notion?"

Clune smiled at the sardonic reply. "Something about the way you resemble a caged jungle cat, perhaps. Forgive me for prying, but it seems to me that drastic measures are called for."

"How drastic?"

"Have you considered abduction?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "You're not proposing I emulate you, I trust. If I recall, Dare, the last abduction you engaged in landed you in a duel and caused you to shoot your closest friend."

With a rueful laugh, Clune shook his head. "That was clearly a mistake, one I infinitely regret. But I am not advocating anything illegal, or even immoral. Carrying your wife off for a passionate interlude would be well within the law and your rights as a husband."

"You have my curiosity aroused," Nicholas replied cautiously. "What are you suggesting?"

"A quiet love nest where you can persuade your bride to your way of thinking. At the very least, Lady Aurora would find it… stimulating."

"And I suppose you have a specific nest in mind?"

"In fact, I do. I have a house in Berkshire that would prove ideal for your purposes – completely secluded and well-staffed with discreet servants. I have yet to meet a woman who was not captivated by its exotic… ah… charms."

When Nicholas didn't immediately respond, his lordship brought up another point. "It would have the further benefit of removing you from London for a time. It wouldn't hurt for you to make yourself scarce just now, my friend. Damien Sinclair asked about you this afternoon. He noticed the resemblance between you and the American who was a guest at our gathering of the Hellfire League three years ago."

"I thought perhaps he might have remembered me."

"You are taking a risk by remaining here, Nick."

"I know," he said thoughtfully.

It was indeed risky, chancing discovery by staying in London to be near Aurora, especially when he was making so little progress.

Nicholas grimaced. That reckless urge of his to defy fate was one of Aurora's chief complaints, and it had been the biggest bone of contention with his father as well. They had fought over it until the last, when the older man lay dying. Nicholas had never quite overcome his guilt for being such a disappointment to his father. He'd sworn then that he would settle down and fulfill his responsibilities – yet here he was, neglecting his shipping business and risking his life for a possibly hopeless cause.

Aurora was still fiercely resisting his pursuit, in part because she deplored his recklessness. She would be happier if he simply left England…

Frowning, Nicholas turned that reflection over in his mind. Perhaps he could use that argument with her – that it would be safer for him to leave town…

"I would be more than pleased to put my house at your disposal," Clune offered, interrupting his thoughts.

"That is extremely generous of you," Nick answered. "Let me consider it."

He did intend to give the idea serious thought. Having time alone with Aurora, without the strict constraints of society to dictate her every action, could indeed break the impasse between them, as well as give them a chance for intimacy that could lead to deeper feelings…

It would also lessen the risk of discovery, Nicholas reminded himself. And his well-honed instincts for danger told him that time was running out.

He would have to act in regards to Aurora, and soon.

The impasse broke the following day, in a manner neither of them expected.

Raven was having a final fitting for the gowns she would wear while visiting her grandfather this summer, and she wanted Aurora's guidance. Knowing Harry wouldn't be comfortable in Lady Dalrymple's home and that Raven's aunt wouldn't welcome a rambunctious ten-year-old boy, Aurora left Harry in her butler's charge. Nicholas planned to call that morning to keep Harry occupied with a game of chess.

It was late afternoon by the time Aurora arrived home. When she heard strange sounds emanating from the drawing room, she gave Danby a puzzled glance.

"I believe Mr. Deverill and his young lordship are practicing fisticuffs," the butler informed her as he relieved her of her veiled bonnet.

Her heart leaping to her throat, Aurora moved swiftly past him. When she reached the drawing room door, she came up short. Some of the furnishings had been pushed aside to clear a space in the center of the room, and both Nicholas and Harry were in their shirtsleeves, brandishing their bare fists.

"Yes," Nicholas was saying. "Keep your hands up, even when you attack. Like this…" He demonstrated, assailing an imaginary opponent with a flurry of jabs.

Aurora went cold. Fear squeezed her heart, along with a fierce anger. "What in God's name are you doing?" she demanded hoarsely – and unnecessarily. Quite clearly he was teaching Harry to fight.

Nicholas straightened and turned to face her, as did Harry. The boy's young face was bright with excitement. "Rory, come and see what I have learned," Harry began.

Her irate gaze remained riveted on Nicholas. "I asked what you are doing."

"I heard you the first time," he replied mildly. "I am teaching him the basics of self-defense, although he could use a qualified instructor."

"How dare you," Aurora said through gritted teeth.

"There is no cause for alarm. It isn't dangerous – "

"Of course there is cause for alarm. He could be hurt. Harry is just a child, and you are teaching him violence."

"He is old enough to learn to defend himself."

Her jaw locked with anger. "Get out, Nicholas," she grated out. "You are not welcome here. I don't wish you to see Harry again."

She ignored the boy's startled, bewildered look. She had called Nicholas by his real name, but she was too furious to care. "From now on, you will keep away from him, do you understand me? I forbid you even to speak to him."

"But Rory," the boy began plaintively. "I asked Mr. Deverill – "

"Harry, go to your room, please."

"Rory…"

"Now, at once!"

The boy gave her an accusing glance, his lower lip trembling. But surprisingly he didn't argue further. Instead, he stiffened his skinny shoulders and glanced at Nicholas, then marched past her out the door.

"You handled that well," Nicholas remarked sardonically, reaching for his coat.

Her chin rose regally. "How I deal with Harry is no concern of yours."

"I'm sorry I didn't consult you first, Aurora. But I didn't realize you would object so strongly."

"Of course I object. You are teaching him how to assault people!"

"It isn't at all the same thing. Don't you think you are overreacting just a bit?"

"Not in the least. I am protecting him from your influence. You will end up getting him injured or even killed."

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "Just because you live in fear doesn't mean that you should force young Harry to."

Aurora glared. "Get out, Nicholas! Get out of this house before I have you thrown out."

His eyes narrowed. "Some day you will have to face your fear, sweetheart. You're afraid of life, so afraid you've buried yourself alive. But you cannot just stop living simply because you might be hurt."

She was too angry to acknowledge the truth in his accusation. "I told you to go!" Quivering with fury, she pointed commandingly at the door.

Nicholas strode past her, but instead of leaving, he swung the door shut. When he turned to her, she felt as if she might melt from the blistering heat of his eyes. "Listen to me – " Crossing to her, he grasped her by the shoulders.

She recoiled from him, struggling. "Don't touch me…" She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't release her. Enraged, she drew back her hand and struck his face with her open palm.

His head jerked back, while his face went so dark that she instinctively stepped back.

Aurora stared, horrified by what she had done. She had never struck anyone in her life. Dear God, she was no better than her father… And Nicholas… He looked as if he might strike her in return.

"I… I'm sorry…" she stammered, her heart pounding as she waited for his expected explosion.

It never came.

"You're sorry?" he asked softly. His expression had suddenly changed.

Moving slowly, inexorably, toward her, he backed her to the wall, pinning her with his body. His eyes were ablaze, astonishingly not with anger, but with a fierce tenderness.

"Don't be sorry, Aurora," he goaded, his grasp a velvet manacle on her wrist. "I would rather have you lashing out at me than keeping your rage bottled up. Strike me again, if you want."

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at him. His thighs burned into hers; his breath seared her lips. His expression was hard and sensual, his eyes dark with arousal. He was going to kiss her, she knew.

"Don't…" she protested in a shaking undertone. "I don't want you to touch me."

"No? Then why are you quivering? Why is your pulse so wild?"

Reaching down, he lifted her skirts and slid his hand under them and up her thigh, his hard, warm palm shocking on her bare skin. She went rigid, then gasped when his fingers found her feminine cleft.

He laughed, a low, taunting sound, deliberately inciting her. "Your body tells a different story, Aurora. You're so responsive, I have only to touch you and you grow wet." He stroked her slowly, making her throb.

Her hands rose to his shoulders, half clinging, half pushing, as she struggled to break free. "Stop…!" she gasped as his fingers slid deeper into her slick warmth.

"You want me, sweeting. You want me moving between your legs, filling you."

"I don't…" she denied, but her protests were lies. Her entire body ached for him, her blood was on fire.

Nicholas felt the same fire. Just touching her had made him harden in the space of a breath. He was aching enough to burst. He clenched his teeth, wanting to seize and possess and consume.

He could feel her resistance, but no fear. Had he sensed that, he would have stopped at once, but she wasn't afraid of him. And he wouldn't back down this time. He wanted a fight from Aurora, wanted her fury. Fury was a short step from passion, and he wanted her passion more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to destroy her rigid control, to release her rage, to show her that fierce emotion wasn't such a terrible thing.

He stared into her blue, blue eyes. Each time he touched her, she responded like a woman desperate to live, desperate to love, but she wouldn't let go unless he drove her to it.

Purposefully he bent his head.

The hard kiss robbed her of breath. Expert, ruthless, he crushed her mouth with his, until a quickening, blinding throb of raw sensation caught her in its grasp. Feeling her shuddering response, Nicholas drew back, his own eyes hard and filled with a low, dangerous flame.

Aurora froze, shaking, as she read his intent. Before she could stop him, he had unfastened his breeches. Open lust burned in his narrowed eyes as his thighs spread hers, pressing her back against the wall. The thrill of it made her tremble.

She drew a shattered breath. "God, Nicholas… not here."

"Yes, here."

His hands clasping her waist, he lifted her up and lowered her onto his engorged erection, entering her with one smooth, powerful thrust. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt his hot penetration; her breath fled at the feeling of being stretched, filled by his swollen flesh.

His breathing turned harsh as he held himself still, sheathed tightly in her. A heartbeat later, he withdrew, only to drive into her deeply again. Huge and hot and urgent, he forced her legs wide open as he plunged his shaft hard into her.

She moaned helplessly, and suddenly her body could not remain still. She arched her hips against him, clinging as he took her with a savage rhythm. She had never known desire could be so primitive, so raw and angry. So fierce. It was madness.

She felt the fire in her veins, in every nerve. Her body burned. She had never felt more alive in her life. Alive with passion, with hunger, with need.

He moved relentlessly inside her, scalding her, making her wild. She gave a sob with each rocking jolt, each tumultuous sensation, until without warning, ecstasy burst upon her and she came in a savage explosion.

He captured her cry with his mouth as her body spasmed in a wrenching shudder. Moments later he gave a low, rough groan and erupted in his own harsh climax, his powerful body clenching in convulsions of fierce release.

In the shattering aftermath Aurora sagged against him, almost too drained to feel the exquisite waves of pleasure ripple through her. For long minutes there was silence, the only sound the mingling of their jagged breaths. She couldn't speak. Her throat was parched, her flesh still sweetly pulsing, aching erotically between her thighs.

Finally, though, Nicholas cursed, a low dangerous sound.

Dazed, Aurora opened her eyes to find him watching her, his dark gaze intense, searching. When she saw his look, realization suddenly returned full force. Dear God, what had she done?

"Let me go," she whispered.

"Aurora…" Nicholas began, but she cut him off.

"Let me go!" she demanded, her voice stronger.

Obligingly he eased himself from her and lowered her to the floor, but she could barely stand, her limbs were so weak. His expression was enigmatic, remote, as he stepped back to fasten his breeches.

Aurora closed her eyes in despair, stunned by her wantonness. They had mated like animals. She had let Nicholas take her in her drawing room, where any of her servants could see. Where Harry could have returned to find them…

"How dare you?" she murmured raggedly. "How dare you treat me like a common trollop?"

Nicholas went still. "You are wrong, sweetheart. I treated you like a woman. A passionate woman who isn't afraid to feel fire in her blood."

He had struck a nerve, he could see it in her bruised expression, hear it in her furious undertone when she replied.

"Get out. I never want to see you again."

His jaw hardened. "I am still your husband, Aurora," he said softly. "I can take you any time, any place I choose."

She gave him a scathing look. "I told you to go."

Clenching his jaw, Nicholas stared at her, at her defiant, icy eyes, her quivering mouth still damp and reddened from his kiss. Even after his powerful release, he still wanted her. He could count each pulse of his heartbeat in the rigid flesh of his new erection. Yet he didn't dare touch her again. If he did, he wasn't certain he could control his lust, or his own anger.

"You are lying to yourself," he replied, his voice tightly controlled. "You want me. There's a hunger in you that you can't fill."

He saw the raw pain in her blue eyes, but when he took a step toward her, she flinched.

"Don't touch me."

His jaw set rigidly, he turned away, but when he reached the door, Nicholas hesitated. His laugh was short, harsh, almost inaudible. "Can you credit it? When I first met you, I thought you were one of the bravest women I had ever known. I was wrong. You're a coward. It takes courage to face yourself, to admit your fears and deal with them." He paused. "When you think you're woman enough to do that, Aurora, let me know."

Without a backward glance, he let himself from the room.

Aurora shut her eyes. She was shaking with fury, with relief, with fear.

The ache in the pit of her stomach was fear. Nicholas was right, she knew. She was a coward. She was terrified of him. Of the intense emotions he made her feel. Of the stranger she became whenever he touched her.

Damn him to Hades. Why did his touch make her forget everything except how much she wanted him? His caresses had set her on fire, had turned her into a creature of lust, frenzied and wild. In his arms she became someone she no longer knew.

Shaking her head in denial, Aurora stirred weakly, then gave a soft moan of dismay. Her back was still pressed against the wall, yet when she'd straightened, she felt his warm, wet seed slip down her thigh.

Her hand stole to her abdomen. Dear heaven, how could she have allowed him to make love to her like that? How could she forget him now? She could still feel the powerful thrust of Nicholas inside her, the searing fire he ignited in her…

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She had to crush her feelings for him. She couldn't let him near her again. She could not.

A deep and lonely ache twisted like a knife inside her at the thought of never seeing Nicholas again, never feeling his sensual touch. Yet she had no choice.

She had thought her father domineering and controlling, but Nicholas would be a hundred times worse. He would own her. If she surrendered to him, her soul would no longer be her own. He would rule her, would totally consume her in his blazing passion. And her heart would be seared to ashes in the fire.

Chapter Seventeen

His arms enfolded me; his lips soft on my face eased my tears.

Nick lay staring at the dimly lit ceiling of his hotel room, cursing himself and his handling of Aurora this afternoon. It was inexcusable, the way he had treated her.

He hadn't meant for their argument to go so far, to erupt in a blaze of raw, unbridled desire. But her fury had ignited his resolve, while kissing her had driven him beyond the reach of reason. The instant he touched her, he had been wild to get inside her.

He shut his eyes, remembering Aurora's stunned look as he plunged himself inside her, her flushed face as she became swept up in the flame of frenzied passion. He had taken her against a wall, without preliminaries, without regard to where they were or who might see them. Like any whore. And she had loved it, responding with all the fire he knew was within her.

He didn't regret shattering her icy control. What he regretted was the dark anger that now lay between them. After weeks of carefully wooing her, of aching for her, he had destroyed the fragile balance of trust and growing desire in a blinding flash of heat.

Clenching his teeth, Nick ran a hand raggedly through his dark hair. He wasn't sure now how to salvage the tattered bonds of their relationship – or even if he wanted to salvage them. He couldn't understand the violence of his feelings for her.

Hell and damnation, he was getting in too deep. He'd never before felt such driving, desperate, mind-blotting need for anyone. His vulnerability staggered him. With just a look, Aurora could set his blood on fire faster, make his loins burn hotter, than any woman he'd ever known. He was panting after her like some lust-crazed, heartsick schoolboy…

He swore again, savagely. Perhaps he should walk away, before he made a worse fool of himself. He shouldn't have stayed so long in England as it was.

He was obviously bent on torturing himself. It was looking more and more likely that she would never accept him as her husband or set free the passionate woman she had encased in ice.

Just then he heard a soft rap on the door. Puzzled, Nicholas sat up, wondering who could be calling at this time of the evening. The hour was not yet ten o'clock, and he had turned down dune's offer for a night of carousing on the town.

The rap came again, more insistently this time. Easing himself from the bed, he went to open the door.

His heart gave a jolt of surprise when he saw the woman who stood there. She was veiled and wore a concealing cloak, but he would have recognized Aurora in any disguise.

He felt himself scowl. She had come to his hotel at night alone, risking scandal, after vowing she never wanted to see him again. But then he realized she would never take such a bold step without good reason…

"What is wrong?" he demanded, his expression softening.

"Harry…" Aurora answered in a trembling voice. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"He ran away. Please, Nicholas, you must help me find him."

His jaw flexed grimly. He didn't point out the obvious incongruity of her plea coming so soon after ordering him to keep away from her. Instead, he drew her from the very public hallway into the privacy of his room.

"How long has he been gone?" he asked, shutting the door.

"I don't know. Hours." She raised her veil, her blue eyes imploring. "I found this note when he was late for supper. He left it on his pillow." She handed him a scrap of paper that had obviously been well perused.

Rory, I have gone to seek my fortune. Please do not worry.

Nicholas frowned thoughtfully. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"No. My servants have looked everywhere. Please," Aurora repeated urgently. "Will you help me?"

He gave her a look of reproach. "Can you possibly doubt it?" Turning away, he began stripping off his fine cambric shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asked, momentarily startled out of her dismay.

"Changing clothes. I don't want to call undue attention to myself. A fine gentleman would be out of place searching the places Harry is likely to be. Sit down. I will be only a moment."

As he rummaged through the clothespress, she glanced at the comfortable settee to one side of the room. But apparently she was too distraught to obey, for she turned to pace the floor.

"This is my fault," she said in an anguished voice. "I drove Harry away. If I hadn't lost my temper, he would never have behaved so foolishly."

Nicholas shook his head as he shrugged on an old brown coat. "Your temper had little to do with it. Harry has been chomping at the bit to begin his adventures. The only surprise was that you persuaded him to wait this long." When she remained painfully silent, an aching wave of protectiveness hit him. "Don't despair, Aurora. I will find him."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, making a visible effort to control herself. "Where will you even begin searching?"

"The docks. That is the most likely place he would go to look for a berth on a sailing ship. He never gave up his aspirations to sail to France."

Nick traded his shiny Hessian boots for a rougher pair and fished out a slouch hat. When he tucked a pair of pistols in his belt and a knife in his boot, Aurora's blue eyes filled with distress. He resembled the violent pirate she deplored, he knew. Yet she didn't protest. She simply watched him, her dread for Harry evident.

Nicholas could not blame her. In the past he had accused her of being overly fearful, but this time her fear was warranted. A youth of Harry's tender age and sheltered upbringing would be prey for all the miscreants and misfits in London. Nick didn't like to think of the danger the boy faced.

Grimly he slipped a heavy set of brass knuckles in his coat pocket and hefted a walking stick that doubled as a sword. He intended to be prepared for any kind of trouble. When he was ready, he took Aurora by the elbow and steered her toward the door.

"How did you come here?" he asked as he ushered her from the room.

"My carriage. Danby is waiting below for me."

"Have him take you home."

She halted, gazing up at Nicholas pleadingly. "But I want to come with you."

"No, sweetheart. I don't want to have to worry about your safety as well as Harry's."

Aurora clenched her hands into fists, obviously torn. Taking her lightly by the shoulders, Nicholas touched his lips briefly to her forehead in a gentle kiss meant to reassure her. "Go home, Aurora. I will find him, I promise you."

When still she hesitated, he reached up to stroke her cheek. "I am good at rescues, remember? Trust me a little."

She gave him a tremulous smile. "I do trust you, Nicholas," she whispered.

That brave smile tore at his heart.

As he turned her toward the stairs, Nicholas prayed silently that he would be able to keep his promise. For if real harm came to the boy, Nick knew instinctively he would forfeit any hope of prying Aurora from her fear of losing everyone she cared for.

Nicholas went first to the ship he had docked at the wharves. He kept a skeleton crew there on the schooner in the event he needed to make a swift getaway.

With a few of his roughest seamen, Nick combed the waterfront, looking for the runaway boy.

The night was teeming with humanity, sailors and bawds and cutpurses, while a din of drunken revelry issued from the taprooms and public houses. Nearest the docks, swirls of fog rose from the River Thames, bringing the damp odors of tar and rotting fish and half concealing the hundreds of bare-masted ships lying at anchor along the wharves.

The fog made the search more difficult, misting the cobblestones and making ghostly images of the crates and barrels and drays that occupied nearly every square inch of waterfront.

Yet the fog was the least of Nick's concerns. He was acquainted enough with London's underworld to have developed a healthy respect for it. The thieves' kitchens, the brothels, the opium dens here were some of the most dangerous in the world. Accordingly Nicholas adopted the low language of the waterfront, pretending to be a sailor in search of a runaway cabin boy for his master and even offering a small reward. But no one had seen a fugitive golden-haired boy.

The constricted feeling in his chest grew as the night wore on. Harry could be anywhere – abducted and forced into labor onboard a ship, or apprenticed as a pickpocket or a ragged chimney sweep, or taken into one of the sporting houses whose clientele craved the tender flesh of young boys, or lying in a dark alley, carved up for fishbait.

Or he might be miles away, having set out in a different direction entirely, Nicholas reminded himself. He'd only been relying on gut instinct when he began the search here. Although his gut was rarely wrong, he could have been mistaken. If so, then Harry could pay a costly price…

He set his jaw and continued the search. There was no way in hell he would return to face Aurora without finding the boy.

It was nearing the darkest hours of night when he met up with two of his men as they exited a tavern.

"No luck, guv'nor," one of them confided. "There's nary a sign of the young toff."

"Keep looking," Nick commanded. "When you reach the end of the quay, start boarding vessels and questioning the crews. We won't stop until we find him."

He had started to turn away when he heard a sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Devil…"

The raw whisper came from behind a stack of crates, but it wasn't an oath or an invocation of Satan, Nicholas realized. It was a plea for "Deverill," his assumed name.

Giving a low shout to alert his men, he threaded his way through the maze of crates. His heart went cold when he saw the pale shape huddled on the ground.

"Harry?" Nicholas said urgently, kneeling beside him.

The boy groaned and lifted his head. In the darkness, Nicholas could just make out his gold hair.

Nearly naked, he was clutching his stomach and shivering in the damp night air. Stripped of his clothing, he wore only his underdrawers, which stank of urine, no doubt because he had wet himself out of fear.

"Where are you hurt?" Nicholas asked, gently probing the boy's face and limbs.

"My… belly. They hit me…"

Nicholas could feel no blood, but Harry's ribs were tender, as evidenced by his sharp winces. Nick suspected, however, that they were only bruised, not broken.

"You'll live," he said tersely, hiding his sympathy. "Tell me what happened."

Haltingly Harry's story came tumbling out: how he had made his way here shortly before dark, how he'd been chased off a brigantine he tried to board, then set upon by a gang of young pickpockets. He seemed most ashamed of his fear.

"I was so afraid," he mumbled, his voice ending in a whisper.

Nicholas didn't mince words. "You damn well should have been afraid. You're fortunate you were only bruised and battered. You could have been gutted and left to die."

"I prayed you would come."

"Count yourself lucky that I don't wring your neck. You frightened Lady Aurora witless."

"I… I am sorry. Will you tell her for me?"

"You'll tell her yourself – in the morning. For now, let's see what we can do to get you cleaned up."

Bending, he lifted the boy carefully in his arms. "I'll take you to my ship first," Nicholas added, rising. "I don't dare present you to her looking like this."

When he had Harry safely on board the Talon, however, Nicholas changed his mind about taking the boy home to Aurora. Harry was exhausted, as well as bruised and battered, but even more than rest, he needed a lesson about the harsh realities of life to underscore the one he'd learned tonight about the dangers.

When the boy was cleaned up and sound asleep in the first mate's bunk, Nicholas retreated to his own cabin, where he composed a message for Aurora. The note was brief, saying simply that Harry was safe and essentially unharmed, but that he would remain on the schooner for a time, to be taught a lesson.

That would undoubtedly rouse her protective instincts, Nick knew, and bring her running. Yet for what he wished to say to her, he needed privacy, which her house with its loyal staff of servants couldn't offer. He sent the message by three of his roughest crew members, trusting that they could protect her when she journeyed to the docks.

His plan worked as expected. In less than an hour, before dawn had even begun to appear, Nicholas heard the clatter of carriage wheels on cobblestone.

Standing at the foredeck railing, he watched as Aurora swiftly descended from the carriage and hurried toward the ship's gangway. He could feel the powerful thudding of his heart, knowing the next few moments could change his life forever.

When she reached the top of the gangway, he moved to help her step onto the deck, grasping her elbow for support.

"What have you done with Harry?" she demanded even before she was on board, her voice hoarse with strain. "Did you hurt him?"

"No, of course I didn't hurt him. He's sound asleep."

Abruptly she pulled away from Nick's grasp. Her gaze riveted on his face, fear and anger evident on her beautiful features in the lantern light. "What did you mean, you want to teach him a lesson?" she said in a fierce undertone. "He should be safe at home in bed."

"He is safe, Aurora."

"You said you intend to keep him on board your ship – "

"Let's not argue here," Nicholas replied warningly, gesturing with his head toward his crewmen, who were climbing the ladder after her.

With a visible effort to control her agitation, she allowed him to lead her. Taking up a lantern, he escorted her belowdeck to the mate's cabin. Quietly opening the door, he stepped aside to allow her entrance.

Harry was curled up in the bunk, fast asleep. Aurora approached him cautiously, afraid of what she would find. The pitiful sight was even more shocking than she anticipated. In the dim glow of lantern light, she could see his battered face – the bruise forming under one eye, the split lip…

A sob caught in her throat, while a surge of nausea rose up to choke her; she had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle it.

This was what violence had done to him, she thought despairingly, fighting the storm of fury and helplessness that raged inside her. Yet Harry was alive, that was what mattered most. She had not been able to protect him, but he was alive.

Needing that reassurance, she reached down to touch his face. The boy stirred in his sleep, but didn't awaken. She drew a shuddering breath.

"Come," Nicholas murmured softly behind her. "He needs to rest after his ordeal."

Reluctant to leave, she tenderly brushed a disheveled lock of hair from the boy's forehead, then forced herself to turn away. After the strain and terror of the past hours, she suddenly felt drained, empty.

She hardly noticed where Nicholas was taking her, but found herself in a small but well-appointed cabin. She didn't resist when he led her to the bunk and pressed her to sit down.

He went straight to a cabinet and poured her a finger of brandy, then returned to her.

"Here, drink," he said, holding the glass to her lips.

The potent liquor burned like fire. Aurora shuddered as she swallowed, then pushed it away. Bending her head, she covered her face with her hands.

"I told you he was safe," Nicholas finally said.

Her shoulders quivered with involuntary trembles. "I know. I was just so afraid…"

"You didn't truly think I would harm him?"

Mutely, Aurora shook her head. She knew Nicholas wouldn't hurt even a strand of Harry's blond hair, yet he was the worst kind of influence on an impressionable boy…

"You said you meant to teach him a lesson," she said, her muffled reply more a question than accusation.

"I do. In the morning I intend to put him to work swabbing decks and checking rigging."

"Why?"

"Because he needs to learn just how difficult life at sea can be."

Lifting her head, she stared at him. "Harry cannot possibly become a sailor, Nicholas. It is too dangerous. By keeping him on your ship, you will only be abetting his ambition – "

"It is far more dangerous to leave him to strike out on his own." Putting down the brandy glass, Nicholas sat beside her on the bunk. "The boy has a fever, Aurora. A burning desire that won't be quenched. Believe me, I know. I was just like him when I was that age. Perhaps it's hard for you to understand since you've never experienced anything like it, but Harry will have to pursue his ambition until either it burns out or it's satisfied. Either way, you cannot cure his fever by sheltering him from life. He will only resent you for it – the way he now resents his mother. The way I did my father."

"But I am responsible for him."

"And certainly you want to protect him. But he needs the guidance of a man, Aurora. I can give him that."

"He doesn't need the kind of guidance you could provide. You will only teach him violence. I abhor violence, Nicholas. After seeing all the terrible things my father did – "

"I have no intention of teaching Harry to be violent, sweetheart," he said gently. "Only to stand up for himself." When she was silent, Nicholas added more forcefully, "You cannot keep him wrapped in cotton wool forever, Aurora. Certainly not by keeping him imprisoned in the safe little sanctuary you've built for yourself."

Her throat tightening in despair, she looked away. "But… he is just a boy. I couldn't bear it if something happened to him and I was to blame."

"Then you should allow me to determine the safest way for him to explore his ambition."

When she wouldn't reply, Nicholas tilted her face back to his with a light touch of his fingers. "You said you trusted me."

She returned his gaze helplessly. His eyes were deep and quiet and searching, the strong planes of his face intent.

Aurora swallowed convulsively as pain congealed in her chest like a deep bruise. "I do trust you," she whispered.

His face softened, while his thumb brushed her lower lip with a featherlight pressure. At his gentleness, she blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. Crying never solved anything. Tears were useless in stopping the pain.

And yet she couldn't help herself. A sob escaped her, followed by another. And suddenly she couldn't stop.

When she felt Nicholas's arms come around her, she turned her face to his shoulder and wept as all the tension of the past day – indeed, all the dark emotions of the past year, fear, grief, loss – came pouring out.

Her body shook in racking sobs while the tears came. Nicholas simply held her, cradling her trembling body in his arms.

When finally her tears subsided, Aurora realized she was lying on the bunk with him, her head pressed into the curve of his neck. His hand gently stroked her hair as she clung to him, and she could feel the night stubble on his jaw grazing the softer skin of her cheek.

Eventually she took a deep, quavering breath. "I am sorry…" she murmured, her voice husky from crying.

"Don't be." His lips brushed against her temple. "Here."

He drew a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe away the dampness from her face.

Aurora lay unresisting for his ministrations, like a child. She hadn't the energy or the will to move.

"You were right," she murmured. "I am a coward."

"No," Nicholas replied softly. "But you've let fear rule you for too long."

She sighed when his warm lips touched her eyelids. She wanted to lie like this forever, safe in Nicholas's arms, pressed against his hardness, his warmth, sheltered and protected and cherished.

The intimacy of their embrace, however, had a starkly different effect on Nick. When Aurora nestled closer, he went still, his heartbeat quickening and deepening. Awareness of her flooded his senses, while a wave of longing hit him, colliding with the breath he was trying to take.

He wanted to comfort her. Wanted to ease her fear, her sadness, to erase that anguish and despair from her beautiful face. But even more, he wanted her.

Almost involuntarily, his lips began moving upon her flushed face, savoring the velvety texture of her soft skin. When she stirred against him, an ache started deep in his groin like a lick of fire.

Nicholas drew a steadying breath, struggling for control as hunger shuddered through his body. How had it happened, this deep and powerful need of her? He couldn't deny it any longer…

Urgently he molded her soft lips to fit his, desire flaring through his senses as he took her mouth. She gave a soft murmur of protest at his sudden move, yet he kept up his tender assault and felt a surge of triumph when her mouth turned hot and pliant under his.

Then suddenly she drew back, her palms pressing against his chest. Her breath came in soft pants as she regarded him, her blue eyes wide with dismay.

Nicholas drew a sharp breath, struggling to check his savage need. She wanted him, he knew. When he touched her throat, he could feel the wildness of her pulse.

"I intend to make love to you, Aurora," he warned hoarsely, his voice raw with desire. "If you want me to stop, then tell me now."

He lay still, waiting, drawn as tight as a bowstring. His loins were full and aching for her, his heartbeat like an anvil in his chest. Yet it had to be her decision this time.

Aurora stared into his eyes, drowning in the sheer intensity of the dark depths. She didn't want his lovemaking, his passion, and yet she couldn't fight his tenderness, the stirring kisses that were so sweet and so fierce. She no longer had any defenses against him.

Mutely she shook her head, knowing the sweet torment of defeat. A desperate longing welled up within her, the need to touch him, to feel him deep inside her.

"I don't want you to stop," she whispered. Reaching up, her fingers curled in the waving thickness of his silky hair.

"Please," she added helplessly. "Make love to me, Nicholas."

Chapter Eighteen

He offered the haunting promise of paradise, if I but had the courage to grasp it.

He undressed her slowly, wanting her with a need so powerful it made him shake. She was still shy about her body, and he ached with the effort to be gentle.

When Aurora stood naked before him, he pulled the pins from her hair one by one, and let the shining mass cascade down over her bare shoulders. Her nipples were erect, her skin pale gold in the flickering lamplight, her legs long and slender.

She seemed to have no idea how beautiful she was, Nicholas thought reverently, or how exquisitely sensual. Her features mirrored the wanting, the longing, he felt; her blue eyes were dark with yearning.

"Aurora," he murmured hoarsely as he took her mouth. Hunger ran rampant through him as he kissed her, a slow, deep, claiming kiss, parting her lips and thrusting his tongue within her welcoming warmth, searching out her secrets. Exultation filled him when he felt a shiver of desire surge through her. He wanted her hot and wild, burning for him… and yet he forced himself to restrain his dire urgency. This was a moment to savor. He intended to love her slowly, completely. To make it last.

Steeling himself, he broke off the kiss and stepped back to shed his own clothing.

Watching, Aurora drew a sharp breath at the magnificence of Nicholas's aroused body. He was so intensely male, his form sculptured and shadowed with bronze in the lamplight. But it was his gaze that held her spellbound.

She saw stark longing in his eyes; she saw need, raw and bold, as he came to her. His fingers glided gently over her bare shoulders, then lower, over the curve of her rib cage, her waist. Then his hands slid down over her hips, pulling her against him. She felt his hot, throbbing maleness against her.

"See what you do to me?" he asked softly. "Can you feel the fire raging in my loins?"

Not letting her answer, he bent to her breast, and the coolness of the night air against her bare skin gave way to the scorching heat of his mouth.

At the softest lash of his tongue, she quivered. When he suckled gently, her fingers dug into his shoulders and clung.

Her soft whimper only aroused him more fully. Nick clenched his jaw, remembering his violence when he'd taken her yesterday. His need was no longer so frantic this time. The frenzied, explosive desire had tempered. Instead he was filled with the longing to share tenderness, to express it.

He sank to his knees before her, rubbing a whiskered cheek on the inside of her thigh. Aurora went rigid as he inhaled her scent.

Ignoring her quiet gasp of protest, he bent forward to probe the delicate, petal-like folds of her womanness, letting his tongue find her ripeness.

Her knees nearly buckling beneath her, she clutched at his hair, but he had no intention of stopping. His hands held her hips still for the unrelenting caress of his tongue. Her hair tumbled in gold tangles around them as he continued savoring, exploring, claiming in long, slow strokes.

Aurora moaned with longing, arching against his clever mouth. It was torture, his infinite tenderness slaking one hunger, his sensuality creating another.

"Nicholas, please…" she pleaded.

Obliging, his lips pressed against her fully as his tongue delved deep. A jolt of flame ran from him into her body, searing her, and she quaked in fierce need.

His hoarse whisper seemed far away. "Yes, be on fire for me…"

Another racking shudder convulsed her, and then she couldn't remain still. Shaking, she cried out as the tremors overtook her. Her legs gave way bonelessly, and she would have fallen had Nicholas not risen and caught her trembling body.

"Enough…" she murmured helplessly.

Desire was bold in his eyes, and so was dark intensity as he replied huskily. "No, angel. We've only just begun."

He kissed her as if he'd found something fragile, precious, then turned with her to the bed. His mouth still covered hers when he bore her down to the mattress.

Primal awareness shimmered through Aurora as he knelt above her and began his sensual assault all over again. His touch was warm, his mouth magical as it moved over her body, kissing her everywhere. She gave herself up to the sensations his touch elicited. She had never felt such sweet, aching tenderness, such intimate beauty.

He was so strong and so gentle, his caresses so soft. He held his power under careful control, his lips skilled and slow, and she could feel his caring.

She stirred beneath him, feeling a fierce, restless, feminine need. His touch was possessive and adoring, soothing and arousing, offering comfort and torment at the same time.

A feverish sound escaped her throat. She was drowning in desire…

She pleaded with him again, but it seemed an eternity before he at last seemed to hear her.

His eyes fierce with tenderness and intent, he covered her with his body. Urgently Aurora raised her arms to draw him closer to her, reveling in the feel of him, of his weight pressing her down, of his maleness, hard and aroused between them.

He checked himself there for a moment, though, his arms holding his weight lightly above her as he gazed down into her eyes. "Do you know how many times I've dreamed of this?" he demanded, his whisper wild and low. "Having you in my arms again, all beauty and fire."

His eyes were passion-black, waiting.

"I have dreamed of you, too," Aurora whispered shakily.

It was all the answer Nicholas seemed to need. He slid slowly, deeply within her, into the clenching tightness of her. Aurora gave a ragged sigh at the relief of having him finally part of her.

He paused for a moment, letting her grow accustomed to the swollen, rigid fullness. Her flesh throbbed as he slowly withdrew.

The second strong thrust of his hips forced him so deeply inside her, she gasped. Smiling tenderly, Nicholas reached down, pulling her hips up higher so that he could fill her even more completely. It was the most exquisite sensation she had ever experienced – being one with him.

Aurora's head fell back on the pillow. She couldn't think, she could only feel. The desire he'd awakened with his touch was so alive, so vibrant, like a flame burning inside her.

He began to move then, with quiet haste, as if he felt the same flame. Her hands moved blindly over his hard-muscled body as he increased the rhythm, burying himself deeper and harder into her welcoming body. Pleasure sharpened, and sharpened still more, swelling to a bursting point.

Nicholas found himself seared by the same urgency as she, the same primitive, powerful need. His breath quickened against her throat as his hips thrust even more forcefully. He tried to remember to be gentle, but the thought faded along with his control as the silken wave of desire gripping Aurora swept over him.

The explosion, when it came, dragged them both under. He caught her moans of ecstasy with his mouth as the pulsing spasms shaking his body rippled into hers, along with his release.

When he collapsed against her, tenderness was such an ache within him, he trembled with it. At length, he weakly rolled to his side and folded her against his chest.

For a long while, Nick lay there shaken, still pulsing with the powerful aftershocks, his thoughts in turmoil. There was a name for the fierce and overwhelming tenderness he was feeling, he realized. Love. He loved Aurora. Sweet heaven…

Nicholas squeezed his eyes shut, torn between wanting to curse and pray.

It was a staggering acknowledgment. Love had never entered his calculations in any other relationship. Always before he had been able to leave with no regrets, to walk away heart-whole. He'd never been in danger of succumbing to love, never been even remotely tempted by the possibility. He'd thought himself impervious to the soul-deep kind of emotion his father had once experienced.

Yet that was before he met Aurora. Her lush loveliness had entranced him from the first – but her appeal went far beyond mere beauty or sensual allure. From the beginning, her kindness, her quiet strength, her fierce protectiveness had won his respect, and his feelings had only grown from there. The more he knew her, the more he'd wanted her. She'd given him tantalizing glimpses of the captivating, passionate woman she kept hidden from the world. It was that unforgettable woman who made him burn, who set his blood and heart afire…

"Are you all right?" he asked after a while.

Her answer was a murmured sigh of pleasure.

Reaching for the blanket at the foot of the bunk, Nicholas drew it up to cover their nakedness. Then absently he pressed a kiss against her silken hair and gathered her closer, his senses distracted by the wonderful, frightening refrain ringing in his head. I love her. I love her…

Again and again he turned the stunning thought over in his mind, before finally allowing himself another reflection. So what in hell's name am I to do about it? How did he convince Aurora to be his wife when she had fought him every step of the way?

One night would never be enough to satisfy the hunger in his soul. He wanted Aurora for his wife. She belonged in his bed, in his life. Their unlikely marriage had been forged by a twist of fate, but he wanted it to be real.

He wanted the right to acknowledge the passion he felt for her. He wanted to lose himself in the hot silk of her body each night and wake up beside her each morning. He wanted to build a future with her, to have children…

Nicholas went very still, wondering if his seed had taken root. Twice in as many days he had loved her without taking any measures to prevent conception. If he'd given her a child, then Aurora would have no choice but to accept their marriage, for she wouldn't be able to weather the scandal alone.

Mentally, Nick shook his head. The thought of Aurora bearing his child filled him with wonder and delight, but the choice had to be hers. He fervently wanted her as his wife, but she had to come willingly. Because she loved him. Because she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Not because she was forced to. The next time they made love, he vowed, he had to be certain to take precautions.

Yet would there even be a next time? He knew what he wanted, but what did Aurora want?

She didn't return his feelings, he knew that well enough. He was the antithesis of what she considered an ideal husband. And she was still in love with a damned ghost. Given enough time, perhaps he could change her affections, but he was running out of time.

That was what he needed – time. Time alone with Aurora. Time to break through her defenses. To convince her to give their marriage a chance. To show her that the desire they shared could ripen into something real and lasting. To kindle her passion until her feelings were so fierce and overwhelming, she could deny them no longer.

That was the only way he knew to reach her, through physical intimacy. Each time they touched, her defenses crumbled a little more, the hunger he aroused in her grew stronger.

And physical passion could lead to love. It had happened in the Frenchwoman's journal. It could happen with Aurora. No, it would happen, Nicholas vowed.

He didn't intend to give up his pursuit without doing everything in his power to win her. His father had lost the love of his life, and Nick refused to spend the rest of his days yearning for what might have been.

He raised a hand to touch her cheek with the lightest of pressures. "Are you awake?"

Stirring, she tilted her face to gaze up at him. "Yes," she murmured, her blue eyes slumberous and sensual.

Tenderly he brushed back the cloud of hair from her flushed face. She was so hauntingly beautiful… He wanted her again, more powerfully than before, a craving that went beyond the physical.

Still, he couldn't simply blurt out his feelings. He doubted Aurora would believe any sudden confessions of love – indeed, he had difficulty believing it himself. His uncertainty left him feeling uncommonly vulnerable.

He couldn't tell her yet. He would have to bide his time, would have to show her how deeply he felt, with more than mere words.

"There is something I need to discuss with you," he said finally, struggling to keep his tone casual. "I am considering whether or not to leave London."

He felt her body tense. "What do you mean, leave?"

"I thought I would go to the country for a time. You're right. After encountering so many people who recognize me, the risk of discovery is too great. Clune has offered me the use of his house in Berkshire." Nicholas paused, taking a deep breath. "I want you to come with me, Aurora."

She sat up slowly, clutching the blanket to her breasts. "Come with you?" she repeated faintly.

"Yes. I want us to be together."

The troubled look was back in her eyes as she gazed down at him. "We are together now."

"Not the way we should be. As things are now, I'm relegated to acting the thief, stealing a few private moments alone with you, having to skulk around to enjoy any intimacy with my wife. I want to be able to kiss you without worrying about creating a scandal. To hold you and make love to you and wake up with you in my arms."

"Nicholas… we have been over this before. I don't want to be your wife."

He held her gaze steadily. "You cannot deny that you want me, not after the passion we just shared."

The distress in her eyes was evident. "That doesn't change anything. We are still completely wrong for each other."

"How can you be so sure? We have never truly put the question to the test. Our marriage was never given a fair chance to succeed. I want that chance, Aurora. And you owe it to yourself if not to me."

When she made no reply, he went on in a low voice. "We have very little time left. I cannot stay in England much longer. But before I leave, I have to be certain that we are not right for each other. We should prove it to ourselves, one way or the other."

"What… are you proposing?"

"Come to Berkshire with me – as my wife." He reached up to brush her bare arm with his thumb. "Give me a fortnight. Two weeks to persuade you that we belong together. At the end of that time, if you still want to sever our marriage and the solemn vows we took, I will agree. I'll leave England and take myself out of your life forever."

She stared at him. "Forever?"

"Yes," he agreed softly. "I'll return to America without you. You will never have to see me again. You can live your life here, independently, just as you wish."

Aurora raised a hand to her forehead, rubbing it distractedly. "I cannot leave London just now. What about Harry? What of Raven?"

He couldn't condemn her fierce streak of loyalty. Aurora was passionately dedicated to the people she cared for; it was one of the things he loved about her.

"Raven will do well enough on her own," Nicholas answered truthfully. "And I will deal with Harry. After his hazardous encounter tonight, I doubt he'll be eager to strike out on his own again. And I intend to make very certain he realizes that a seafaring life is not the glamorous adventure he's dreamed of. I wouldn't be surprised if he decides very soon to return home to his mama."

"I cannot leave him here, Nicholas."

"I promise that won't be necessary. What other objections do you have?"

She had a great number of objections, Aurora thought. The chief of which was Nicholas himself. He was a risk beyond anything she'd ever imagined. He threatened everything she had ever known of safety or sense. The emotions he created in her were intense and terrifying, as was his fierce, consuming passion…

But if she refused to go with him? She would be letting her fear rule her. She would be acting the coward, just as he'd accused her of doing. She didn't want to live her life in fear.

Worse, if he remained in London and was discovered, he would be arrested and hanged. Sweet heaven, she couldn't bear it if he were to die. At least away from London he would be safer…

Did she dare agree to what he was asking of her? Did she have any choice?

She stared back at him, caught in the spell of his intense gaze. Two weeks. A handful of days, alone with Nicholas. They would be lovers. It would be paradise; it would be torment.

Could she possibly manage to keep her emotional defenses intact for so long? Two weeks would seem an eternity. And the enforced intimacy would only bring her greater agony when they had to part.

But if she could endure it, he would leave England and return to America for good. Aurora swallowed the sudden ache in her throat. Wasn't that what she desperately wanted? To be free of Nicholas and his overwhelming passion?

She forced away the sharp feeling of desolation that thought engendered. She wanted desperately for him to go, before he tore her heart to shreds…

"Will you give me that chance, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice soft as velvet. "Will you come with me?"

"Yes," Aurora whispered, gazing down at Nicholas. "I will come."

There was such fire in his eyes that her heart stopped. Unable to bear that look, Aurora shut her own eyes, hoping with all her might that she was not making a dreadful mistake.