Nicole Jordan (25 page)

“He wasn’t always so bad,” she finally said. “My mother could manage him, but after she died, he took to drinking more heavily. His moods were so…unpredictable. One day he would be amiable, the next he would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation. I could usually calm him if I didn’t confront him directly, if I placated him. But I grew to dread even being near him….” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s terrible to say, but I think I hated him.”

“No.”

“It is shameful to hate your own father.”

“Not if he deserves it. Any man who would strike a—” Nicholas bit off the comment, his tone grim. “I would very much like to meet your father.”

Aurora winced at the mere thought of that confrontation.

“I think he affected you more than you realize,” Nicholas observed after a moment.

He was right, she knew, nodding slowly. “Perhaps so. All my life I lived in dread of his rages. They made me physically ill. I was always so powerless…. I learned to hate emotional turmoil.” She gave an involuntary shudder.

She felt Nicholas’s hand touch the small of her back, offering comfort, and drew a measured breath. Her father could not hurt her now—because of Nicholas.

“For the past two months I’ve known peace. I no longer wake up dreading having to face my father. I was grateful to you for that. Wedding you allowed me to escape him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“About the risk you were taking by marrying me.”

“What good would it have done? You were not in a position to accept a refusal.”

“I didn’t realize the danger I was putting you in.”

“It was my choice, Nicholas. And besides…” She smiled faintly down at him. “You allowed me to escape Halford, too. I would have had to endure that marriage.” She shuddered again. “Truly, being widowed has allowed me far more freedom than I’ve ever known before, and I cherish it.”

Nicholas considered her claim for a long moment. When he spoke, his tone was quiet, contemplative. “The bit of freedom you’ve carved out for yourself has barely scratched the surface, Aurora.”

She gave him a questioning look. “What are you suggesting I do? I have already pressed the limits of decorum as far as I dare, setting up my own household and living on my own.”

“You could dare a great deal more. You are still letting yourself be smothered, trying to conform to society’s rigid rules, your father’s expectations.”

He was right again, Aurora thought, gazing out at the silvery lake. She did feel smothered. She had felt so her whole life long. Perhaps that was why the journal had struck such a deep chord inside her. That beautiful yet terrible tale of passion fascinated her more than she would have believed possible—a sheltered woman finding freedom in the very chains of slavery that bound her….

Aurora pressed her lips together in denial. She certainly had no desire for such drastic liberation. But perhaps she
should
take more risks, as Nicholas was suggesting. Perhaps she should dare to be bolder….

“You have a hunger for living, Aurora, beneath all those proper inhibitions.” His tone was low and vibrant. “You want to feel alive. Yet you don’t know how.”

She felt his gaze probing her, as if he were seeing inside her and uncovering all her secrets. Somehow Nicholas understood the yearning she had always hidden in the deepest part of her, the part that was wild and restless and questing. The longing for some nameless fulfillment. Something elusive she could only imagine.

“And I suppose you are offering to teach me?” she said finally.

“I want to, very much.” His rough-velvet voice resonated through her. “I could show you a world you’ve never seen before, one brilliant and vibrant with color. You aren’t happy now in your dull gray world, alone in your cold, lonely bed.”

At his implication that he warm her bed, her breath caught. “You are not responsible for my happiness, Nicholas,” she managed to murmur.

“Perhaps not, but you need liberating. And I intend to be the one to do it.”

“How? By wearing down my resistance?”

“By becoming your lover.”

In the night’s silence she could hear the hammering of her heart. “I have no intention of being intimate with you again. What if I should conceive? I could never live down the scandal.”

“You read the journal. There are myriad ways to experience carnal relations that don’t result in conception. We have a vast array of methods of arousal yet to explore. Of touching and caressing and enjoying each other.”

It was true; the journal described in exquisite detail many different forms of sensual pleasure. Aurora looked down at Nicholas. He was watching her intently, a primal gaze of sensuality incarnate.

His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Doesn’t your heart race a little faster at the thought of making love to me? Can you deny my touch excites you?”

No, she couldn’t deny it at all. This man was her husband. He had been her first lover. Her only lover. She wanted him.

She was suddenly filled with intense awareness. Of the night. Of the tingling in her veins. Of Nicholas. Of the rich, disturbing promise of his mouth.

The air between them seemed to throb with pulses of anticipation and warning as she stared at him. There was something wild and savage singing through her blood, a whispering voice urging her to yield to abandon, to give in to the lush sensation he promised.

Yet another conflicting voice exhorted her to keep her defenses strong. Nicholas lusted after her because he wanted what he could not have.

But…what if she gave him what he wanted? If she yielded to him, he would soon tire of the chase, for the thrill would be gone. Surely he would end his maddening pursuit then.

There might even be a way to hasten his decision: she could take the offensive herself. She was weary of being his quarry, of defending herself, of endlessly having to keep up her guard.

He reminded her of her father in that respect. Whether intentionally or not, Nicholas was trying to intimidate her, to make her accede his demands, to control her. Yet after standing up to her father for so many years, she should be able to stand up to Nicholas.

It would be gratifying to turn the tables on him and make
him
the hunted for a change. If she pursued him, he might very well turn tail and run—all the way back to America. And if she could manage to ease his powerful carnal needs, he would no longer be driven by his fierce lust….

“Perhaps you are right,” Aurora said slowly, hoping she wasn’t making an irrevocable mistake. “Perhaps we should become lovers.”

When he had no response, she realized she had surprised him into silence. He had clearly not expected her acquiescence.

He would not expect her to take the first step, either.

Aurora drew a measured breath, wondering if she had the courage to follow through with her wild plan. But what choice had he left her? She couldn’t allow things to continue this way, with Nicholas driving her slowly mad. He wouldn’t stop until she yielded, so the sooner she did so, the sooner their bizarre relationship would end.

She had scarce experience in carnal matters, but the journal had given her remarkable insights, teaching her the secrets of a man’s body, how to excite his desire—an invaluable lesson, Aurora knew. A woman could wield great power if she controlled a man’s desire.

Her wedding night, too, had helped her shed her virginal ignorance as well as her inhibitions. Nicholas himself had taught her about hunger and arousal….

Holding his gaze, Aurora gathered her courage and slowly bent down to touch his warm lips with her own.

Nicholas remained frozen, as if startled into immobility. “Are you really serious?” he asked finally.

She answered with false calmness. “Quite serious. You said I should take more risks. Well, I intend to, beginning now. Will you lie back, please?”

When she reached out to press him down, he grasped her hand, holding it away from his body.

With a nervous laugh, Aurora straightened. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you, Nicholas?” she murmured in a low voice that was intentionally challenging.

He narrowed his heated eyes. “Just what do you plan to do?”

“Ease your lust.” Her hand pressed again on his chest. “And perhaps enjoy a taste of revenge. You delight in tormenting me. Well, it is my turn to torment you. Turnabout is fair play, after all. Now lie back.”

He did as ordered, but his husky voice held a warning. “Aurora, I am not a saint. If you don’t want to make love, then I strongly suggest you end this game right now.”

She let her lips curl in a smile as she unfastened the buttons of his coat, even though she felt clumsy with nerves. “A
saint
is the last thing I would call you, Nicholas. And I want to play this game…. Only I set the rules.”

She slowly undid his waistcoat buttons and pushed aside the lapels. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fine cambric of his shirt; warmth, life lay under her fingertips, reassuring as well as arousing. “The first rule is that you aren’t to touch me.”

“What if I don’t want to play by your rules?”

“Oh, I think you will.”

Her hand moved lower, to his hard abdomen. She hesitated a moment. Then clutching his shirt, she loosened the hem from the waistband of his breeches and drew it up till his stomach was completely bare.

When Nicholas shifted his weight uneasily, Aurora frowned in warning. “Lie still.”

He obliged as she lightly stroked his taut belly, his skin hot beneath her palm. But when she slid her fingers into his waistband, his entire body tensed. Her courage swelled.

“Does this hurt?” she asked, slightly taunting.

“You know it doesn’t, witch,” he ground out.

She withdrew her hand, but she could tell he was already aroused; she could feel the enormous bulge under his breeches as her fingers worked the buttons.

“If you expect me to be still while you touch me like that,” he said hoarsely, “you should think again.”

“If you move, I shall stop,” Aurora replied serenely.

He gritted his teeth as she opened his breeches and moved on to the buttons of his drawers. When a moment later she parted the fabric, his quivering length sprang from the dark gold curls of his groin.

Aurora felt her breath catch. He was stunning, with the moonlight silvering the hard planes and muscles of his body.

She might have little experience, but she knew what would happen when she touched him. How a soft caress would make his muscles bunch and tighten. How the lightest brush of her fingertips across his belly would make him quiver. How his skin would flush with heat and his male flesh grow rigid…

I stroke the thickening swell of your hardness and feel no shame. You have taught me desires of the flesh, sensitized my body to pleasure, burning away all inhibition.

She knew.

She kept her gaze trained on his manhood, at the shaft that was already thickly engorged, yet she wasn’t as tranquil as she pretended. Her heart was pounding as she ran her hand lightly down his torso, following the feathery trail of hair over his belly, caressing him the way he’d taught her on their wedding night.

It fascinated her, the contrasts beneath her fingers—the sinewy hardness of his stomach…the velvet steel of his manhood…the downy softness of the sacs beneath. He jerked slightly when she touched him there, the heavy testicles tightening as she cupped him lightly.

“Aurora…” he rasped.

Enthralled by his response, she extended her exploration. With trembling fingers she moved upward, rimming the engorged crest of his arousal, teasing the sensitive ridge. When he shivered at her touch, she grew bolder, tracing the sleek contours, stroking the throbbing length, so swollen with heat.

Eventually her fingers folded completely around his manhood, enclosing the velvet-sheathed hardness and squeezing lightly. The thick length surged in her hand, swelling to fit her grasp. With rising confidence, she drew her hand slowly downward, then up again, creating an exquisite friction.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Nicholas asked in a strangled voice moments later.

“I had an excellent tutor,” Aurora murmured.

“I don’t recall teaching you that.”

“Not that specifically, perhaps. But you taught me not to fear a man’s body. You taught me about pleasure and arousal. The journal suggested the rest.”

He was so hard under the hot, silky skin, so magnificently erect. Yet what amazed her was how simply touching him could affect her so strongly, how stroking him could stroke her own desire. She felt hot all over; her nerves, her skin, her pulse felt incredibly alive, while a sweet ache had begun throbbing between her thighs.

Her gaze locked with his, the clamor of her heart echoing his unspoken question.

Shivering with anticipation, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and bent her head to taste the male shaft that could give so much pleasure. It was shameless, brazen, yet thrilling to have this strong, vibrant man at her mercy.

When her mouth touched the distended tip, he seemed to stop breathing altogether, and her sense of power swelled. She glanced up to see that Nicholas’s eyes had closed. Holding the base of his rigid length, she slid her tongue gently around the pulsing head. She felt his body clench.

“Am I doing this right?” she whispered.

His response was a strangled groan. “Exquisitely right. Don’t stop.”

She had no intention of stopping. Exploring the forbidden delights of his body was too sensuously exciting.

He felt the same excitement, Aurora knew, despite her lack of experience. She felt his hand touch her hair, guiding her lightly as her tongue circled the smooth, glistening crest, but his powerful body had gone rigid, his hips straining to keep from moving as she explored him with her mouth and tongue.

Letting her feminine instincts take over, she took him fully in her mouth, enveloping the thick bulbous tip with her lips. The shocking pleasure of it left her weak. He was scalding hot, pulsing with life, and her gentle suckling made him surge even larger and longer.

She heard him groan and looked up to see his hard virile face taut and rapt with ecstasy. Aurora felt a thrill of pleasure. She wanted to make him groan, wanted him writhing with need.