"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.
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