Nicole Jordan - The Passion

As was his bride.

Aurora Demming was a contradiction – surprisingly tough for a lady of her class and upbringing, with a stunning combination of regal elegance and allure.

Was he asking too much of her? She was the privileged, pampered daughter of a duke. Proper. Innocent. And enchanting enough to send blood rushing to his loins at the mere thought of touching her.

She was a beauty, the kind of woman to haunt a man's dreams, with pale gold hair and deep blue eyes and lush lips made for kissing.

When he remembered tasting those lips, another fierce stab of desire pierced him. Nicholas swore softly at himself. How would he manage to restrain himself? He'd had countless women. Passionate lovers who could wring a man dry. Bold, exciting ones who challenged his expertise and stressed the limits of his control. Tender ones who could satisfy his male hunger in a surfeit of pleasure. But he suspected making love to Aurora would be an experience unlike any he'd known. When he'd kissed her earlier, he'd glimpsed the fire of long-suppressed desire in her eyes.

He shut his own eyes, letting himself fantasize about his wedding night. He drew a sharp breath as he imagined having her cool beauty beneath him. The thought of rousing her to passion brought an ache to his body that had nothing to do with his injuries. A man could die happy after being in her arms.

Nicholas exhaled slowly, feeling his rigid muscles slacken.

Wedding her was no mistake. If tomorrow was to be his last night on earth, he wanted it to be in the arms of a siren whose hair glittered with sunlight.

He took my body with surprising gentleness, treating my innocence as a precious gift .

The ceremony took place as planned in the fortress chapel, with Jane and Percy and Commander Madsen in attendance. Yet when Aurora first laid eyes on her intended husband, she felt an unexpected shock. He had recently bathed and shaved, and the clean, chiseled angles of his face revealed a stunning handsomeness that made her breath catch.

He was dressed as a gentleman of means rather than a condemned prisoner, in a bottle green coat and pristine white cravat that contrasted attractively with his golden skin, while his sun-streaked mane had been tamed to an almost fashionable style.

Both the fresh bandage wrapping his brow and his unsmiling face, however, emphasized the somber nature of the event. A wedding should have been a joyous occasion, but no one in the bridal party experienced any joy, including the bride and groom.

Aurora chiefly felt numb. This strange ritual was not what she'd envisioned when as a girl she had imagined her wedding day. The heavy gold ring Nicholas Sabine presented her – his own, engraved with the emblem of a masted ship – was too large for her slender finger. And the light brush of his lips on hers when he sealed their troth was almost cold. But it was the grimness in his eyes that made her heart sink.

The dinner given afterward by the commander in his quarters was slightly less solemn but still awkward, for no one could forget what was to happen the following day. There were no toasts to long life or happiness for the bridal couple, and Colonel Madsen made no secret of his anger about being forced to carry out such a distasteful duty. He took his leave shortly after the sweets had been cleared away, brushing off Aurora's attempts to thank him for his hospitality and merely wishing the company a good evening.

Percy and Jane lingered a while longer and embraced Aurora fondly when they said farewell. It had been arranged for Aurora's maid to attend her, but when Jane wanted to summon the girl, Nicholas intervened, saying he would see to his bride himself.

He ignored Jane's frown of disapproval and Aurora's questioning look, but in a few more moments her cousins were gone, leaving her alone with the man whose name she now shared.

"I trust you will forgive me if I'm not eager for company," he murmured, throwing the bolt on the door and securing them inside.

"Of course," Aurora answered unevenly, not quite certain how she should behave or what he expected of her.

"Would you like some wine? Or perhaps something stronger?"

She started to refuse, but then changed her mind, realizing wine might help ease the tension that had suddenly seized her. "Yes, thank you, I would."

The commander's quarters were neither large nor particularly sumptuous; the chamber they occupied was both a dining room and parlor. But they were the best the grim fortress had to offer.

Aurora had been surprised to learn the colonel had leant his rooms for their wedding night at Nick's request. Even in prison her new husband was not completely powerless at influencing his fate.

When Nicholas went to the sideboard, Aurora absently toyed with the overlarge ring on her finger.

"You don't have to wear it," he said, observing her action.

"I am just concerned that I will lose it. Perhaps I should put it away for safekeeping."

"That might be wise."

She slipped it into her reticule, then clasped her hands together to keep them steady.

Nicholas poured a snifter of brandy for himself and a glass of sherry for Aurora, which she accepted gratefully. Then he raised his glass in mock salute before taking a long swallow of brandy.

Unable to meet his gaze, Aurora sipped her wine more slowly. She felt her heart skip a beat when her new husband indicated the adjoining door with a polite sweep of his arm.

"Shall we retire, my lady?"

Reluctantly she preceded him into the bedchamber. The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp and a low-burning fire. Aurora eyed the bed warily. The frame was rather narrow, yet the covers had been turned down invitingly and her nightdress had been laid out with evident care. Her mouth suddenly went dry.

She felt his gaze survey her as she stood frozen. After watching her a moment, though, Nicholas went to the hearth and stirred the coals, rousing a more lively flame. "My manners are remiss again," he said casually. "I haven't thanked you yet for accepting my proposal."

"It… seemed the most sensible course," she replied, fighting to keep her voice from sounding weak.

"And are you always sensible?"

"Usually, Mr. Sabine."

"Why don't you call me Nicholas? After all, we are husband and wife now."

Aurora shivered slightly at the reminder.

He turned to her, his gaze locking with hers. "Bridal nerves are not uncommon, I understand."

"I suppose not."

"I have told you before, Aurora. You have nothing to fear from me. You needn't look as if you are going to the guillotine."

She took a deep breath, chastising herself for being such a mouse. She had agreed to become his bride, and she would uphold her end of the bargain – or die trying.

"Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?" he asked when her chin lifted in determination.

"I have an idea. Jane told me generally what to expect. I am prepared to submit as your wife."

His eyes softened. "I am not interested in your submission, Aurora. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. In fact, I think you'll find lovemaking quite pleasurable."

"Jane said… it might prove so with you."

His faint smile held more than a hint of charm. "I shall do my utmost to justify her faith in me."

When Aurora remained immobile, Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Come and sit by the fire, sweetheart. I won't ravish you, I promise."

Aurora searched his compelling eyes, finding a tenderness there that amazingly reassured her.

Two wing chairs were arranged before the hearth, with a small cherrywood table between them. Aurora chose the one closest to the door. Nicholas remained where he was, one booted foot on the hearth fender. His tone was thoughtful when he next spoke. "Did you ever consider that this marriage business might be terrifying for me as well?"

"You?" Aurora responded in surprise.

"Yes, me." His mouth twisted in a wry, self-deprecating smile. "I've never taken a bride before. Truthfully, I've hunted man-eating tigers in India with less trepidation."

She stared at him, not believing this man with his bold vitality had any conception of fear. She studied him a moment, unconsciously admiring his ruthless good looks – the strong jaw, the slashing brows, the sensual eyes with their long, dark lashes.

She wasn't genuinely afraid of him, although she didn't know why. A man with his history of violence should have frightened her. But he was still unnerving.

There was a leashed energy in his lithe, powerful body that was intensely male. An intensity that was sexual – there was no other way to describe it. All her senses came alive in his presence, her feminine instincts acutely aroused. That was what unnerved her, she realized. His powerful sexuality… and the dismaying effect it had on her.

"I expect we should discuss the arrangements regarding our marriage," he said after another moment. "I spent most of the day with the solicitors, trying to foresee various difficulties and making every legal provision I could think of. Financially at least you will be comfortably situated."

"Thank you," she murmured, suspecting he had introduced the subject now to give her something to think about other than the consummation to come.

"Raven, however, could prove a possible problem to my plan," Nicholas mused. "She won't be eager to accept you as her guardian – a total stranger. Nor is she likely to suffer the confining strictures she'll encounter in England, either from her family or society in general. Although she claims to have every intention of conforming in order to make a good match, she has an aversion to rigid rules. She's something of a rebel, I fear. Much like me."