Nicole Jordan - The Passion

Closing her eyes, she fingered the ring he had given her, which she wore now on a gold chain around her neck. The metal was warm from her body and reminded her acutely of Nicholas and the searing passion they had shared on their brief night together.

Unable to bear the solitude of her dark thoughts any longer, Aurora rose and braced herself against the sway of the ship as she silently began to dress. Even though she would have been glad for the companionship, she had no wish to wake poor Nell. Perhaps if she went above deck, she might find the captain or one of his officers to bear her company.

She was extricating a shawl from her valise when she came across the parcel wrapped in layers of tissue paper. Her fingers traced the name written in a weak hand: Nicholas Sabine. The parcel had been left for him by Raven's mother among her possessions.

Aurora felt her heart twist strangely as she opened the wrapping. Inside was indeed a book as he'd expected, although not just any book. Aurora caught her breath at its stunning beauty.

The cover was inlaid with gold leaf and adorned at the four corners with clusters of semiprecious stones. Embossed into the gold was the title: Unepassion du coeur – par une dame anonyme.

A Passion of the Heart – by an Anonymous Lady.

Curious, Aurora opened the jeweled cover. The book was a journal, she realized, written nearly a hundred years ago, though it had been published more recently.

The first entry, also written in French, was dated September 3,1727:

It has been seven months since I was captured by Turkish corsairs and sold as a slave in Constantinople into the harem of a prince. Seven months since my gradual conversion from despair to desire, to unwilling love.

Only today was I allowed pen and parchment to set down my thoughts about my captivity.

I remember vividly the day I was brought before him as his concubine. I was so innocent then, a Frenchwoman of good family, unprepared for the mysteries of passion that awaited me at the hands of my new master. I could not know how profoundly he would affect me, awakening a woman's tender longing and hungry desire.

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me…

Aurora shut her eyes, reminded so poignantly of the first time she had seen Nicholas on board the naval frigate.

Then, he had been a captive, bound in chains, and yet he had seemed just as dangerous, just as compelling, as the prince in the journal.

She moved on, turning pages that seemed worn and obviously well read. Nicholas had said the book was his father's gift to the woman he loved. Raven's mother had evidently loved him in return, if the condition of the pages were any indication. Numerous passages had been underlined, one of which drew Aurora's eye.

His hand on my breast was at once soothing and arousing, his skilled fingers stroking my taut nipple, a torment to my sensitized flesh.

A flush of embarrassment stung Aurora's cheeks at the explicitness of the text. She had promised to read the journal and decide whether it would be appropriate to give to Raven, but she could answer that question with one glimpse.

Nicholas could not have known the scandalous nature of the journal's content. She herself had never read anything so openly licentious. And yet she couldn't deny its forbidden allure. The Frenchwoman's erotic descriptions had a poetic, lyrical quality about them that was at once powerful and fascinating.

Her gaze settled on another passage at random: His bold touch inflamed my innocent senses, driving me to greater heights of pleasure, kindling the burning need in me.

Nicholas, oh Nicholas. She closed the cover, unsure she could bear to read something that brought back such tormenting memories.

Wrapping her shawl about her to ward off the dawn chill, Aurora hesitated a long moment before picking up the journal and leaving the cabin.

Above deck, the crew was scurrying over the brig, climbing the rigging and adjusting the innumerable sails. Not wanting to be in the way, Aurora went to stand at the rail.

After the dimness of her cabin, the bright sunrise blurred her vision. Or perhaps it was tears. She could barely see the vast ocean stretching out before her. The brilliant blue-green waters of the Caribbean had become the gray of the Atlantic, while a chill breeze buffeted the ship, making the canvas snap overhead.

Shivering, Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her face to the wind, glad for the numbing effect.

She stood at the railing for a long while, her heart aching as she remembered Nicholas. He had been so vital, so larger than life – For mercy's sake, stop thinking of him!

Somehow she had to force her memories of Nicholas out of her mind. That brief chapter in her life was closed. When she reached England, she would make a fresh start. She would begin a new life for herself, one free of emotional tumult. She would be her own woman, with no domineering father or commanding husband to control her or make her life a misery.

Faith, she should be counting her blessings rather than wallowing in sorrow for a man she hardly knew. Logically she should be grateful their marriage had lasted such a short time. She could never have been comfortable with Nicholas as a husband. His intensity, his passion, his raw virility, were too overwhelming…

Whatever bonds they had formed were physical. Bonds of the flesh, not of the heart. Their marriage had been a purely cold-blooded business contract, nothing more. And she would have to bury his memory with the same cold-blooded detachment.

With renewed determination, Aurora swallowed the ache in her throat and forcibly turned her thoughts to the journal she clutched in her hand. The lady had been captured as a slave but found passion in the arms of a magnificent stranger. What was her tale? How would her story end?

Anxious for the distraction, Aurora found a keg to sit on out of the direct force of the wind. Then, her heart taking up an unsettling rhythm, she opened the jeweled cover to the first page and began to read.

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me…

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.