Nicole Jordan (31 page)

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.

He captured her cry with his mouth as her body spasmed in a wrenching shudder. Moments later he gave a low, rough groan and erupted in his own harsh climax, his powerful body clenching in convulsions of fierce release.

In the shattering aftermath Aurora sagged against him, almost too drained to feel the exquisite waves of pleasure ripple through her. For long minutes there was silence, the only sound the mingling of their jagged breaths. She couldn’t speak. Her throat was parched, her flesh still sweetly pulsing, aching erotically between her thighs.

Finally, though, Nicholas cursed, a low dangerous sound.

Dazed, Aurora opened her eyes to find him watching her, his dark gaze intense, searching. When she saw his look, realization suddenly returned full force. Dear God, what had she done?

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“Aurora…” Nicholas began, but she cut him off.

“Let me go!” she demanded, her voice stronger.

Obligingly he eased himself from her and lowered her to the floor, but she could barely stand, her limbs were so weak. His expression was enigmatic, remote, as he stepped back to fasten his breeches.

Aurora closed her eyes in despair, stunned by her wantonness. They had mated like animals. She had let Nicholas take her in her drawing room, where any of her servants could see. Where Harry could have returned to find them…

“How dare you?” she murmured raggedly. “How dare you treat me like a common trollop?”

Nicholas went still. “You are wrong, sweetheart. I treated you like a woman. A passionate woman who isn’t afraid to feel fire in her blood.”

He had struck a nerve, he could see it in her bruised expression, hear it in her furious undertone when she replied.

“Get out. I never want to see you again.”

His jaw hardened. “I am still your husband, Aurora,” he said softly. “I can take you any time, any place I choose.”

She gave him a scathing look. “I told you to go.”

Clenching his jaw, Nicholas stared at her, at her defiant, icy eyes, her quivering mouth still damp and reddened from his kiss. Even after his powerful release, he still wanted her. He could count each pulse of his heartbeat in the rigid flesh of his new erection. Yet he didn’t dare touch her again. If he did, he wasn’t certain he could control his lust, or his own anger.

“You are lying to yourself,” he replied, his voice tightly controlled. “You want me. There’s a hunger in you that you can’t fill.”

He saw the raw pain in her blue eyes, but when he took a step toward her, she flinched.

“Don’t touch me.”

His jaw set rigidly, he turned away, but when he reached the door, Nicholas hesitated. His laugh was short, harsh, almost inaudible. “Can you credit it? When I first met you, I thought you were one of the bravest women I had ever known. I was wrong. You’re a coward. It takes courage to face yourself, to admit your fears and deal with them.” He paused. “When you think you’re woman enough to do that, Aurora, let me know.”

Without a backward glance, he let himself from the room.

Aurora shut her eyes. She was shaking with fury, with relief, with fear.

The ache in the pit of her stomach was fear. Nicholas was right, she knew. She was a coward. She was terrified of him. Of the intense emotions he made her feel. Of the stranger she became whenever he touched her.

Damn him to Hades. Why did his touch make her forget everything except how much she wanted him? His caresses had set her on fire, had turned her into a creature of lust, frenzied and wild. In his arms she became someone she no longer knew.

Shaking her head in denial, Aurora stirred weakly, then gave a soft moan of dismay. Her back was still pressed against the wall, yet when she’d straightened, she felt his warm, wet seed slip down her thigh.

Her hand stole to her abdomen. Dear heaven, how could she have allowed him to make love to her like that? How could she forget him now? She could still feel the powerful thrust of Nicholas inside her, the searing fire he ignited in her….

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She had to crush her feelings for him. She couldn’t let him near her again. She could not.

A deep and lonely ache twisted like a knife inside her at the thought of never seeing Nicholas again, never feeling his sensual touch. Yet she had no choice.

She had thought her father domineering and controlling, but Nicholas would be a hundred times worse. He would own her. If she surrendered to him, her soul would no longer be her own. He would rule her, would totally consume her in his blazing passion. And her heart would be seared to ashes in the fire.

Chapter Seventeen

Nick lay staring at the dimly lit ceiling of his hotel room, cursing himself and his handling of Aurora this afternoon. It was inexcusable, the way he had treated her.

He hadn’t meant for their argument to go so far, to erupt in a blaze of raw, unbridled desire. But her fury had ignited his resolve, while kissing her had driven him beyond the reach of reason. The instant he touched her, he had been wild to get inside her.

He shut his eyes, remembering Aurora’s stunned look as he plunged himself inside her, her flushed face as she became swept up in the flame of frenzied passion. He had taken her against a wall, without preliminaries, without regard to where they were or who might see them. Like any whore. And she had loved it, responding with all the fire he knew was within her.

He didn’t regret shattering her icy control. What he regretted was the dark anger that now lay between them. After weeks of carefully wooing her, of aching for her, he had destroyed the fragile balance of trust and growing desire in a blinding flash of heat.

Clenching his teeth, Nick ran a hand raggedly through his dark hair. He wasn’t sure now how to salvage the tattered bonds of their relationship—or even if he wanted to salvage them. He couldn’t understand the violence of his feelings for her.

Hell and damnation, he was getting in too deep. He’d never before felt such driving, desperate, mind-blotting need for anyone. His vulnerability staggered him. With just a look, Aurora could set his blood on fire faster, make his loins burn hotter, than any woman he’d ever known. He was panting after her like some lust-crazed, heartsick schoolboy….

He swore again, savagely. Perhaps he should walk away, before he made a worse fool of himself. He shouldn’t have stayed so long in England as it was.

He was obviously bent on torturing himself. It was looking more and more likely that she would never accept him as her husband or set free the passionate woman she had encased in ice.

Just then he heard a soft rap on the door. Puzzled, Nicholas sat up, wondering who could be calling at this time of the evening. The hour was not yet ten o’clock, and he had turned down Clune’s offer for a night of carousing on the town.

The rap came again, more insistently this time. Easing himself from the bed, he went to open the door.

His heart gave a jolt of surprise when he saw the woman who stood there. She was veiled and wore a concealing cloak, but he would have recognized Aurora in any disguise.

He felt himself scowl. She had come to his hotel at night alone, risking scandal, after vowing she never wanted to see him again. But then he realized she would never take such a bold step without good reason….

“What is wrong?” he demanded, his expression softening.

“Harry…” Aurora answered in a trembling voice. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“He ran away. Please, Nicholas, you must help me find him.”

His jaw flexed grimly. He didn’t point out the obvious incongruity of her plea coming so soon after ordering him to keep away from her. Instead, he drew her from the very public hallway into the privacy of his room.

“How long has he been gone?” he asked, shutting the door.

“I don’t know. Hours.” She raised her veil, her blue eyes imploring. “I found this note when he was late for supper. He left it on his pillow.” She handed him a scrap of paper that had obviously been well perused.

Nicholas frowned thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“No. My servants have looked everywhere. Please,” Aurora repeated urgently. “Will you help me?”

He gave her a look of reproach. “Can you possibly doubt it?” Turning away, he began stripping off his fine cambric shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked, momentarily startled out of her dismay.

“Changing clothes. I don’t want to call undue attention to myself. A fine gentleman would be out of place searching the places Harry is likely to be. Sit down. I will be only a moment.”

As he rummaged through the clothespress, she glanced at the comfortable settee to one side of the room. But apparently she was too distraught to obey, for she turned to pace the floor.

“This is my fault,” she said in an anguished voice. “I drove Harry away. If I hadn’t lost my temper, he would never have behaved so foolishly.”

Nicholas shook his head as he shrugged on an old brown coat. “Your temper had little to do with it. Harry has been chomping at the bit to begin his adventures. The only surprise was that you persuaded him to wait this long.” When she remained painfully silent, an aching wave of protectiveness hit him. “Don’t despair, Aurora. I will find him.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, making a visible effort to control herself. “Where will you even begin searching?”

“The docks. That is the most likely place he would go to look for a berth on a sailing ship. He never gave up his aspirations to sail to France.”

Nick traded his shiny Hessian boots for a rougher pair and fished out a slouch hat. When he tucked a pair of pistols in his belt and a knife in his boot, Aurora’s blue eyes filled with distress. He resembled the violent pirate she deplored, he knew. Yet she didn’t protest. She simply watched him, her dread for Harry evident.

Nicholas could not blame her. In the past he had accused her of being overly fearful, but this time her fear was warranted. A youth of Harry’s tender age and sheltered upbringing would be prey for all the miscreants and misfits in London. Nick didn’t like to think of the danger the boy faced.

Grimly he slipped a heavy set of brass knuckles in his coat pocket and hefted a walking stick that doubled as a sword. He intended to be prepared for any kind of trouble. When he was ready, he took Aurora by the elbow and steered her toward the door.

“How did you come here?” he asked as he ushered her from the room.

“My carriage. Danby is waiting below for me.”

“Have him take you home.”

She halted, gazing up at Nicholas pleadingly. “But I want to come with you.”

“No, sweetheart. I don’t want to have to worry about your safety as well as Harry’s.”

Aurora clenched her hands into fists, obviously torn. Taking her lightly by the shoulders, Nicholas touched his lips briefly to her forehead in a gentle kiss meant to reassure her. “Go home, Aurora. I will find him, I promise you.”

When still she hesitated, he reached up to stroke her cheek. “I am good at rescues, remember? Trust me a little.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I do trust you, Nicholas,” she whispered.

That brave smile tore at his heart.

As he turned her toward the stairs, Nicholas prayed silently that he would be able to keep his promise. For if real harm came to the boy, Nick knew instinctively he would forfeit any hope of prying Aurora from her fear of losing everyone she cared for.

Nicholas went first to the ship he had docked at the wharves. He kept a skeleton crew there on the schooner in the event he needed to make a swift getaway.

With a few of his roughest seamen, Nick combed the waterfront, looking for the runaway boy.

The night was teeming with humanity, sailors and bawds and cutpurses, while a din of drunken revelry issued from the taprooms and public houses. Nearest the docks, swirls of fog rose from the River Thames, bringing the damp odors of tar and rotting fish and half concealing the hundreds of bare-masted ships lying at anchor along the wharves.

The fog made the search more difficult, misting the cobblestones and making ghostly images of the crates and barrels and drays that occupied nearly every square inch of waterfront.

Yet the fog was the least of Nick’s concerns. He was acquainted enough with London’s underworld to have developed a healthy respect for it. The thieves’ kitchens, the brothels, the opium dens here were some of the most dangerous in the world. Accordingly Nicholas adopted the low language of the waterfront, pretending to be a sailor in search of a runaway cabin boy for his master and even offering a small reward. But no one had seen a fugitive golden-haired boy.