Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (64 page)

Brandon stretched across the bed and took her hand. His voice was quiet, commanding. 'It can be different. You just have to choose to make it so. You've made a difference in others' lives for so long. Now it is time to make a difference in your own.'

The night of the betrothal ball approached, bringing with it, for Nora, an increasing amount of anxiety. Everything was running too smoothly. The interceding weeks between the ball and Witherspoon's visit had gone well.

Scott

Mary

and her children were established in the cosy cottage. Witherspoon had to eat humble pie and confess Brandon's belief that the raids would stop had been legitimate.

The harder decision was Nora's choice to let Eleanor Habersham take the

of Witherspoon's suspicions. She

sent word to Hattie and Alfred to close up the house, pack their things and move away. It would keep them safe if anything went wrong; if Witherspoon wanted to believe the spinster had been the thief, she was happy to let him. Eleanor had disappeared and with her, The Cat. Brandon had arranged everything so that her past was tied up into a neat package. She only had to accept it and the book on The Cat was closed for ever. She could start again as a Countess, as Brandon Wycroft's wife, if she chose. That appealed to her more than the title. But there was still one loose end in that regard.

There was still no word from Jack, although she knew Brandon remained hopeful that his friend would turn up shortly. There was nothing to do but wait. The waiting was killing her. Brandon said it was because she was not used to inactivity. The everyday thrills and dangers she had lived with for so long had receded from her lifestyle.

Nora thought otherwise. It seemed the rest of her life hinged on what was to come. She understood completely that the night of the betrothal ball would mark the beginning or the end of what she could have with Brandon. Did she trust him enough to admit to her feelings and reach for the life he offered her? Could she do it knowing that he was offering sanctuary, but not his love?

So she waited impatiently, spending her days with a recovering Mary

reading books in Brandon's well-stocked library and storing up a treasury of memories in case the worst happened. By the night of the ball, she was a bundle of nerves.

we won't need you any longer.

help my lady

finish with her toilette.' The connecting door between

216

Pickpocket Countess

Brandon's rooms and Nora's little-used chambers opened, revealing Brandon resplendent in full evening dress.

the hastily employed lady's maid, bobbed a curtsy, hiding a nervous titter and the implications of his request before fleeing downstairs to share the latest bit of gossip regarding the master and his betrothed.

Nora's breath hitched as she stared at Brandon in the vanity mirror. The dark clothes suited his commanding presence. He carried with him the urbane aura of the socially astute, but tonight it was coupled with a lethal quality that suggested he was something more than what lay on the

of his polite veneer.

Danger prowled beneath the surface if one dared to look.

That quality had always been there. Nora had seen it the first night she'd invaded his bedroom. She had seen it because he had wanted her to see it. He had hidden it well from the rest of society. Now it was thoroughly exposed, lending him a edged charm. No matron seeing him tonight would consider him safe for their daughters to cut their flirtatious teeth on.

He must feel it too, Nora reflected, watching him in the mirror. Tonight was a decisive evening. Then he spoke and her hopes and fears were confirmed.

'Jack has returned. He will seek us out at the ball with his news.' There was tightness around his lips.

Perhaps he had already told Brandon. 'Don't spare me, did he say anything to you?'

Brandon shook his dark head.

I asked him to wait until

later tonight. This affects us both.'

He moved to stand behind her, lifting the dark curls that fell down her back from an elegantly arranged pile of hair and pearls on top of her head. He let the curls sift through his fingers in a slow cascade so that they fell in a titillating tumble against her bare back. 'You look beautiful, Nora.'

'I'm not dressed.'

'I know.' His hand caressed the nape of her neck sending a

Scott

217

of longing down her spine. His eyes met hers in the mirror, conveying the promise of wickedness.

dressed,' Nora pointed out, barely able to contain her rising desire.

'I am told opposites attract,' he whispered, bending to nip the tender flesh at her neck. His warm breath blew sensually in her ear. Nora felt herself dampen. Good lord, reach climax

before he even took off his trousers. She turned from the mirror and reached for the waist of his trousers. Perhaps they could manage something without

his exquisitely tied cravat.

She tried to be careful, but Brandon would have none of it.

'Damn it, Nora, do you think I can look upon you in that flimsy dressing robe, all that passion darkening your green eyes, and take you gently?'

He pulled her to him, devouring her with his mouth. She hungrily arched against him, ripping and stripping until he was bare with her, skin against

on the carpet of her boudoir.

never done this in my room before,' Nora panted.

'Then it's high time we rectified that,' Brandon growled fiercely, covering her with his length and plunging deep until she cried out her satisfaction. They plunged and soared over and over, each time soaring a little higher, a little closer, like to the sun, to the heat that begged to overwhelm them.

'Now, Brandon,' Nora cried, letting the conflagration of their passion sweep over her in hot waves. She let the flames of their climax brand her. There would never be a fire like this again with anyone else.

She fell to earth slowly at first, spent and dreamy. Then with a crash she plummeted the rest of the distance. Was this the last time? The possibility painted the after-bliss of their coupling with a bittersweet

explaining the intensity in Brandon's eyes, the wolf-like quality to his seduction, the

ravenous frenzy they'd engaged in on the floor without a thought for

the comfort of her bed just feet away.