Nicole Jordan - Desire

She froze in her tracks, her mind registering the specter of a driver in a hooded cloak wielding a savage whip.

Lucian, fortunately, didn’t share her paralysis. With a desperate lunge, he shoved Brynn out of the path of the lethal threat and flung himself after her, a bare instant before the coach thundered past.

Both of them lay on the ground stunned, staring after the runaway vehicle.

Lucian recovered first. Uttering a low curse, he climbed to his feet and helped her up. “Are you hurt?” he asked, both his gaze and hands examining her for injuries.

Her face was white as she regarded him numbly.

“You could have been killed,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“Either of us could have been killed,” he replied, his own tone grim. “But it most likely was an accident. A bolting team isn’t uncommon.”

Yet she didn’t believe him, Lucian could see clearly from her petrified expression.

And in truth, he didn’t have total faith in his own reassurances. It wasn’t implausible that someone had just attempted to kill him; in his line of work, he tended to make enemies. But he doubted a centuries-old curse was to blame for the near-fatal accident.

Yet convincing Brynn of that, Lucian reflected darkly, was as unlikely as their ascending to the skies without the assistance of a balloon.

After the ominous carriage incident, Brynn’s feelings of dread returned with a vengeance. So did her dark dream of Lucian dying while she stood over him, her hands stained with his blood. Her sense of urgency, however, deepened to near panic when she actually found herself with child.

It was her maid, Meg, who first recognized the symptoms. Brynn was dressing for her morning ride when she began to feel strangely nauseated. When she pressed a hand to her stomach, Meg took one look at her face and went to fetch the chamber pot.

“You should sit, milady. Put your head down, between your legs… There, that’s it.”

Sinking down into a chair, Brynn obeyed, wondering what was wrong with her. She was rarely ill, and she had eaten nothing to cause this bilious sensation. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried to take slow, deep breaths as her maid ordered.

“It will pass in time,” Meg said soothingly, stroking her mistress’s forehead. “Once your stomach starts to swell, you’ll not feel ill. I scarce feel it now.”

“Swell?”

“With the babe.”

Startled, Brynn stared down at her abdomen. Was it possible? Was she carrying Lucian’s child within her body? But of course, considering their determined efforts to conceive. And somehow she knew it was true.

A ripple of joy flowed through her, followed by a sharp pang of dismay. A child only made her dilemma more difficult. Lucian had promised they could live separate lives in exchange for her giving him a son, but heaven help her, she didn’t want to leave her child behind.

Brynn raised a hand to her temple. In all likelihood, she would have no choice. She had to protect Lucian, whatever the personal cost. Indeed, if she were wise, she would leave him now, immediately, before the risk to his life grew any greater.

“Will his lordship be pleased, do you think?”

Brynn nodded slowly. Lucian would be elated when she gave him the news, but what then? Once he knew of her pregnancy, there would be no chance of her evading him. He would insist on her remaining by his side, under the care of the best doctors. She would have to endure his tenderness day and night…

She doubted she could be strong enough for so long a duration. Each day that passed, her feelings for Lucian grew ever more acute. She couldn’t envision keeping her heart’s defenses intact until she gave birth. Certainly she could never spend a lifetime with Lucian and maintain an emotionless detachment. Perhaps she should indeed leave him at once, before it was too late…

No, Brynn reflected, she didn’t dare tell him about her pregnancy. Not until she had decided her course of action.

“I don’t intend to inform him just yet, Meg,” she murmured, trying to swallow her nausea. “Not until I’m certain I truly am with child. Please, I would like to keep it between ourselves.”

“Of course, milady. Whatever you wish.”

Brynn went to him that night, her emotions in turmoil, the wonder of having part of Lucian growing inside her body battling her fear of the future. But he kissed her with a slow, soul-destroying tenderness, sending passion, sweet and heavy, flowing through her, shattering her reticence. She melted against him, welcoming him with all the longing within her.

The intensity of their mating was stunning. Lucian took her body with fierce hunger, muttering hoarse, unintelligible words against her throat as he demanded her surrender, but he gave her indescribable pleasure in return. Her sobs of rapture were not only physical, though. Brynn felt a bond with him she had never experienced with any other human being.

Afterward she lay in his arms, her breath tangling with his, his fingers caressing her bare skin with soft strokes. She could feel the solid beat of his heart beneath her palm, feel her own heart aching. What they had shared had been, for her, beyond words.

He had made her feel thoroughly possessed, utterly desired, truly cherished. She had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable. So filled with longing.

She wanted the child inside her, without question, but what was far worse… She wanted her child’s father. She wanted Lucian as her husband, wanted a real marriage. She wanted his love, wanted to love him in return…

Dear God, Brynn thought, shutting her eyes in dismay. She dared not love Lucian or he would die.

She sat at her dressing table the following morning, clutching her mother’s locket in her hand. Her nausea was just as strong today, dispelling any lingering doubts that she was carrying Lucian’s child-and strengthening her dread. What if their child was a daughter? If so, the curse would be passed down and the whole terrible cycle would begin all over again.

Please God, no, Brynn thought fiercely. Let it be a son. She couldn’t bear to think of her daughter suffering her fate.

She knew now how her mother had felt. Blindly Brynn stared down at the locket her mother had given her as a reminder of the peril she faced. Inside was the miniature portrait of her legendary ancestor, Flaming Nell, but it was her beloved mother’s face Brynn saw. A face ravaged by the pain of a fatal childbirth.

You cannot give in, her mother had whispered hoarsely on her deathbed. Promise me, Brynn. Swear to me you won’t let yourself love any man. It will only bring you terrible heartache. Though weak from the loss of blood, she had forced the locket into Brynn’s hand. Look at this… whenever you feel tempted. Look and remember.

Brynn felt tears burn her throat now at the memory. Her mother had succumbed to the temptation of love-and suffered untold grief as a result. Her final words had been of warning, a plea to beware. Gwendolyn Caldwell had understood all too well the unquenchable hungers of the heart. The aching need to love and be loved.

The soul-deep longing that was tearing at Brynn now.

She felt her fingers clench reflexively over the locket. She had sworn solemnly that day never to let herself love, but she was in danger of breaking her promise. She very much feared she was falling in love with Lucian. Her desire for him was becoming a torture she could no longer endure. No longer wanted to endure.

Setting her jaw, Brynn dropped the locket into her jewel case, banishing it from sight. She would have to leave Lucian at once, unless…

She went still. Unless she could find some way to fight the curse. She drew a slow breath, remembering the handbill advertising Gypsy fortune-tellers at the upcoming Westminster fair. Was it possible that Esmerelda was in London? Could the Gypsy woman offer her any hope?

Years ago she’d gone to Esmerelda, grieving over her dead suitor, seeking any sort of comfort, perhaps even some measure of absolution. At the time she had been too distraught by the tragedy to question the possibility of breaking the spell. Indeed, just the contrary, Brynn reflected. Because of James’s death and her own ominous dreams foretelling it, she’d finally accepted the destructive power of the curse and resigned herself to her fate.

But she was desperate enough now to grasp at any straw. If there was any remotely possible way for her to remain with Lucian without causing his death, she had to try.

Not wanting to give rise to scandal by attending a fair alone, Brynn seriously considered asking Raven to accompany her. Yet she would feel awkward discussing such intimacies as her marital relations and pregnancy with her virginal, unmarried friend. Besides, Raven was close to Lucian, and she might feel obligated to reveal the secret. And Meredith was too happily engrossed in her own family, Brynn felt, to become involved in her troubles. She took Meg instead, knowing it wasn’t totally uncommon or beyond the pale for an adventurous lady and her maid to enjoy such an escapade.

Fortunately the autumn day was overcast and chilly enough for her to wear a cloak without arousing comment. Brynn kept the hood drawn close around her face to prevent being recognized and hired a hackney to take them to the fairgrounds in Westminster.

The fair, she discovered, was typical of other ones she’d attended in Cornwall with her brothers, with jugglers and puppeteers vying with vendors hawking oranges and gingerbread and hot meat pies, as well as dealers in finer wares-satin ribbons and gloves and knives.