A Dangerous Game (21 page)

“Simon does not want you around his daughter,” Darian said, his eyes narrowed.

Salvatore glanced at Darian. “Simon does not have a say in how I lead my life.”

Darian smirked. “Is that so?”

“Indeed, it is.”

“He paid you to disappear.”

Nicolette swallowed hard. Darian had managed to bring up the one thing she had been too afraid to ask last night.

Salvatore kissed her hand before walking toward his brother. They were both of the same height, and Salvatore stopped mere inches from him. “Do you mean this note?” he asked, pulling it from his wallet.

Darian ripped the note from Salvatore’s hand. He looked at it, then to Salvatore. “You didn’t cash it?” He was clearly stunned.

Salvatore shook his head. “Of course not. I told him I would not be bought, and I won’t be.”

“Yet you carry it in your pocket. Were you waiting for the right time?” Darian asked smugly.

Salvatore smiled. “No, I wanted it as a reminder to how devious a bastard both you and Lord Wellesley are.”

“Trust me when I say you will wish you had cashed the note, because no one will invite you into their homes once they discover the truth.”

“The truth? You mean that my father was a womanizing bastard who made promises to my mother that he would never keep. He would throw her aside, leave her pregnant and penniless, to make her own way on the streets of London. I was five years old when I saw him for the first time. A broken man who did not resemble the picture my mother always carried with her. He said he came to see for himself the bastard that he had sired. He looked at me, proclaimed me to be “too exotic looking” to be his son, then, slapping my mother and calling her a whore, he left. My mother never again was the same.”

A nerve twitched in Darian’s cheek. “I know nothing of my father’s bastards.”

“You should. I’m certain the continent is littered with them.”

Darian lifted his chin. “But I am the heir.”

Salvatore shook his head. “And to think I once envied you for being his legitimate son. Now all I feel for you is pity.”

“You lie if you say you wish you did not have a father.”

“I do have a father, and his name is Count de Vassey and he lives in France.”

Darian frowned. “I know this de Vassey you speak of.”

Salvatore smiled. “Yes, I know you do. He commented on meeting you once in Paris. He said you were the boy with the sad eyes.”

Darian bristled under Salvatore’s gaze. “Foolish man!”

“You hated our father as well. I can’t blame you for that. He was not a very good man.”

“Nor is his illegitimate son…who sought to ruin me.”

Salvatore clenched his jaw. “I am not proud of what I intended to do to you, and believe it or not, I am sorry.”

“I think you should leave,” Darian said curtly.

“And I shall,” Salvatore replied. “Now that I have the woman I came for.” Salvatore reached out to Nicolette and she took his hand.

“Nicolette is leaving with me,” Darian said.

Nicolette shook her head. “Darian, I love Salvatore and he is the man I will be with…forever.”

Darian’s eyes narrowed and he smiled sardonically. “You will be sorry. What will you do for money? You’ll be ruined by week’s end.”

Nicolette looked at Salvatore and they shared a smile. “We have always managed to survive.”

“For now you have a career…but not for long. Soon you will not be able to play in even the shoddiest theaters of Covent Garden.”

Nicolette’s stomach tightened.

“You are such an ass, Darian.” Charlotte planted her hands on her hips. “Get out!”

“Nicolette, I will give you one more chance to have the life you want and the life you deserve,” Darian said between clenched teeth. “He can give you nothing.”

“I have the life I want, Darian.” Nicolette slid her hands around Salvatore’s waist, and he slid a hand around hers. “I always have. Yes, we did something stupid because we hated what our fathers had done to us. If I could take back the stupid guise, I would. But we have apologized already and no harm was done.”

Darian snorted. “Perhaps in your eyes.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Darian,” Charlotte blurted.

“You have no idea who you are dealing with,” Darian said, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea of the power I wield.”

“I have heard enough,” Charlotte said, heading for the door and throwing it open right as Alfred arrived, his eyes huge in his weathered face, a pistol in his trembling hand. Charlotte took the gun from the old man’s hand and aimed it at Darian. “Darian, get the hell out, before I throw you out...or worse.”

Clearly startled by the turn of events, Darian walked toward Nicolette and Salvatore.

“You will be sorry you denied me, Nicolette,” Darian said, and with that threat, he left them.

Salvatore hugged her tight. “I think it is safe to say we have worn out our welcome in London.”

Once the front door shut, Charlotte handed the gun to Alfred and turned to them. “I am afraid what Simon is going to do now, Nicolette. Darian is one thing, but Simon is another threat altogether. He will not take this slight well, particularly since he took a chance in introducing you to society as his daughter.” Reaching out to Nicolette, Charlotte grabbed hold of her hand. “Perhaps you should leave while you can. Leave London before Darian gets to Simon.”

Chapter Nineteen

Nicolette woke up in their room at Madame la Monte’s.

Salvatore stood near the open window, leaning out, his lean body bare to the waist. As he moved, the muscle and sinew played beneath his olive skin.

She smiled, remembering how he had held her throughout the night. They had not made love, both too content just to know that their world was once again right and that they had each other.

Neither one of them brought up Darian’s threat, but they both realized he had the power to destroy them. Nicolette had little doubt every drawing room in London would be teeming with the news by week’s end, but they had decided not to flee in fear of Simon or Darian’s retribution.

Salvatore shut the window, then sat down near the fire. He picked up his pen, dipped it in the ink and began to write. She had always loved the process he went through when writing. He appeared to be in another world, a place so intense, that often times when he looked at her, he seemed to see right through her.

Slowly she got up from the bed, holding her breath as not to make a noise.

She tiptoed toward him, and was just three steps away when he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap.

“How did you know I was awake?”

He grinned wickedly. “I could feel you watching me when I peered out the window.”

She glanced around behind him.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed into a frown.

“I was checking to see if you had eyes in the back of your head.”

He laughed and kissed her. “Silly girl. Would you like some tea?”

She shook her head. “No, but I do have a craving.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, wrapping a curl about his finger.

Licking her bottom lip, she tried to look as innocent as possible. When she wiggled her bottom, he grinned wolfishly.

“Ah, I think I understand.”

Before he could blink she straddled him in the chair. The smile that had been there moments before disappeared as she kissed his mouth, then his nose, one eyelid, then the other. His eyes remained closed as she rained kisses along his jaw, then his ear. She licked the lobe, before stroking the inside ridge.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her up against him, against the hard length of his cock.

He bent down and laved a nipple through the silk fabric of her chemise. Delicious bursts of pleasure rippled through her. Wrapping her arms about his broad shoulders, she rotated her hips.

With two tugs he wrenched the chemise from her and threw it aside. She eagerly unbuttoned his pants and slid her hand along the long thick length that grew harder by the second.

Shifting her hips again, she smiled, noting the fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

He lifted her then, and set her on his thick cock. The breath caught in her throat as she took in inch after delicious inch, until his long length was buried deep inside her.

He palmed a breast and played with a sensitive nipple. “Your breasts are bigger than they used to be.”

“I am a woman now, Salvatore,” she teased, kissing him again.

“I know that well, my dear,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips traveling down her neck, to the tops of her breasts, leaving light kisses there before taking a nipple into his mouth. He lightly tugged on the sensitive bud with his teeth, sucking, laving one nipple then the other.

Her fingers fisted in his hair.

Her body quickened, white-hot fire racing through her veins, and she moved against him, her body pulsing with the force of her orgasm.

Salvatore felt her sheath tighten around him like a clenched fist, surprised how quickly she’d climaxed. Her sweet cries were like music to his ears. He picked her up, still joined and laid her on the bed. He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth open, her full breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath.

He pulled out, teasing her with the head of his cock. She bit into her bottom lip. Smiling, he inched into her, and her thighs fell open wider.

With heart hammering loud in his chest, he let his hands wander up over the sensitive skin between thigh and groin, then higher to her belly, which swelled slightly.

His gaze shifted to her large, full breasts.

“Nicolette, are you with child?” The question was out before he could stop himself.

His heart skipped a beat, for he knew by the look on her face he had guessed right.

She nodded and watched him tentatively, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction.

His child! Nicolette would have his child.
Their
child.

The news filled him with immense joy, and he leaned over her, kissing her with all the love he felt for her. She eased her hips up and he smiled against her lips as he began to move.

*****

Salvatore was so quiet.

He had been that way since yesterday when she had told him about their baby. It had been obvious by his smile and sudden gentleness as they’d made love that he had been pleased by the news...yet there had been something in his eyes afterward that told her he was concerned.

No doubt his thoughts were on Darian, and what he could do to their career. When it was the two of them they had not worried, figuring they could always find work somewhere in Europe. But that life was not conducive to raising a child and they both knew it.

Even a few months from now traveling would be difficult, and she had little doubt Salvatore would be content to stay in one place. He always grew restless. Having a child would not change that. Would he leave, travel and entertain, while she stayed home with the child?

She flinched at the thought of such a separation.

Salvatore set his violin aside.

“You have been so quiet.”

He turned, almost as though he were surprised she was there. How distracted he had been.

A knock sounded at the door, and he jumped up to get it. Nicolette could hear the girl, one of Madame la Monte’s new whores, who did not like Nicolette at all. Nicolette did not have to guess at the reason, and though she wanted to ask Salvatore if he had slept with the pretty redhead during their separation, she could not bear to hear the answer.

Shifting slightly so she could see the woman, Nicolette bit back a curse. The girl, wearing nothing save a chemise, wound a red curl about her finger as she handed Salvatore a letter. Her large nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, and Nicolette could see from where she sat that the girl had no drawers on beneath.

“Thank you, Nalise,” Salvatore said, shutting the door.

“What is it?” Nicolette asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of her tone, but failing.

The side of Salvatore’s mouth lifted, as though knowing she bristled. “It is from Charlotte.”

Salvatore handed it to her and sat down beside her on the bed.

Nicolette scanned the letter. Her heart dropped. Darian was out for blood. He was calling Salvatore out at dawn on the morrow.

“We have to leave London,” she said, crumpling the letter in her hand.

Salvatore lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “Nicolette, I will not run from my brother. If he wants to meet me on the field at dawn, I am more than ready to appease him.”

“No!”

“You do not think I can best him?” Though the words were said in jest, Nicolette heard the hurt in his voice. She had seen for herself that Darian was skilled with bow and arrow, and though Salvatore had bested him in that sport, she did not know if he was even more skilled with a gun.

“I will not lose you.”

“I am not going anywhere, Nicolette.” His hand rested on her abdomen. “We can’t keep running forever. We are being given a chance with our son or daughter. If we cannot play in London, then I will teach here—or anywhere else in the world.”

“But what if—”

Salvatore put his finger to her lips. “No more ‘what if’s. We will take each day as it comes without always looking over our shoulders.”

Chapter Twenty

The morning was cold and dreary, the wet grass making the ground slippery.

Not the best conditions for a duel.

Salvatore had awoken early, making sure to be so quiet that Nicolette would not wake and follow him here. She had begged him to not come, to make a public apology to Darian, so that they could move on with their lives.

He had held her and assured her that he would talk with his brother. Yet now, as the sun rose on the horizon, he knew there would be no discussion. In fact this duel had nothing to do with their father or the life he had been denied, but everything to do with Nicolette.

“The Earl of Kedgwick is here,” Solomon said, the old Negro looking more nervous than Salvatore felt. Secretly he had yearned for this day when he could meet his brother on equal footing. He knew Darian dueled often, his rakish behavior causing many husbands of
the ton
to reclaim their wives’ honor.

Salvatore’s heart thumped loudly. The black carriage with the golden Strathmore crest rolled along the gravel drive and came to a stop. Salvatore took off his coat just as Darian stepped out of the carriage.

The earl looked like he had not slept at all. Darian stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, but for his friend, Viscount Athenry, who steadied him, looking a bit out of sorts himself.

They were drunk.

“There you are,” Darian said, a sardonic smile on his face. “I thought for certain you would not show.”

How arrogant he was, this brother of his. Nay, a brother he would never be.

Darian managed to get out of his coat, though with help from his second, Lord Athenry. He glanced at Salvatore, and then looked to Solomon. The side of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “This is your second?”

Solomon went still at Salvatore’s side. “I need no second. This is between you and me, and no substitute will be accepted.”

The viscount released a relieved breath, obviously grateful to have been let off so easily.

Another gentleman, this one much older than Darian, motioned for them to follow him to the field. He opened a case and nodded to Salvatore. “His lordship has been good enough to give you first choice of weapons.”

Salvatore took the closest sleek-handled gun.

Darian took the other, his hand trembling the slightest bit. Salvatore wondered if it was from drink or nerves.

“Get into position—back to back. You will walk ten paces, and at my signal, you will turn and fire.”

Salvatore’s heart pounded so loudly it was a roar in his ears. Thoughts of Nicolette raced through his mind, along with the image of their baby, wondering if he or she would favor their beautiful mother in both looks and spirit. He smiled inwardly, knowing that if he died this day, he would do so a lucky man.

He could only pray that he would make it from this field alive, and once he did, he would put the past behind him once and for all. If he did not live, he could only hope that Simon Laurent would take care of Nicolette and their baby.

“One, two, three...”

Salvatore took each step, the pistol cold and heavy in his hand.

“Eight, nine, ten.”

The signal had not yet been given when Salvatore heard the blast of a pistol and felt a searing pain through his right shoulder.

*****

Inside the elaborate carriage belonging to her father, Nicolette tried to remain calm as best she could. The sun had just risen and she feared the worst.

She was furious that Salvatore had left her at the brothel without saying a word, and more importantly, for doing what just last night he had promised he would not do.

God she prayed she was not too late.

She had roused her father from his sleep, his valet looking none-too-happy to be receiving callers so early. Simon, in his haste, threw on his overcoat, called for his carriage to be brought around, and joined Nicolette in the carriage.

“My dear, I just hope we are not too late.”

She frowned, not liking her fears voiced aloud.

“I am pregnant, Simon.”

He blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

Swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat, Nicolette repeated, “I am pregnant.”

He studied her, his green eyes narrowing. “Is Darian the child’s father?”