"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…