Candice Hern (18 page)

Blast it all, he wished he had been on time. Or that she had waited. He did not like to think of her on the streets, a woman alone, hailing a hackney. When he got home, he would first apologize, then he would scold her for taking such a risk. He did not mean to be a bully of a husband. It simply wasn’t safe, and she needed to understand that.

He shouted to the jarvey to take him to Golden Square, then bounded back inside the carriage. They had just turned onto Ludgate Hill when Nick looked out the window and felt his blood freeze. In the shadows of a narrow lane, two large, rough-looking men were accosting a woman. A small woman with curly reddish hair.

Oh, my God!

He pounded on the ceiling for the jarvey to stop, and without waiting he flung open the door and jumped, stumbling to the pavement before the carriage had come to a halt. One man had his hand on her breast as she tried, kicking and screaming, to fight him off. The other man held her from behind. Nick lunged toward them without conscious thought.

“Nicholas!”

He grabbed the first man by the shoulders and pulled him away from Pru, then threw his fist in the blackguard’s face with more force than he had ever used in his life. A sickening crunching sound preceded a howl of rage from the brute. The second man dropped his hold on Pru, spun around, and disappeared into the dark. She gave a little cry and reached out to Nick. He pulled her to him with one arm, holding her tight, but kept the other hand free to grab the bloody-nosed miscreant by the collar.

“I should kill you for daring to touch my wife.”

The man held his hand to his nose and glared at Nick. He made some sort of gargled, inarticulate response, shrugged out of Nick’s grasp, and took a step backward.

“Get out of here,” Nick said, “before I call for the night watch and have you taken up for assault. Go on. Get out of here. Go!”

The man turned and ran into the dark lane, his footfalls echoing on the damp cobblestones.

Nick put his other arm around Pru and held her tight.

“My God, Pru. My God. Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head, but kept her face buried against his chest. She was trembling like a leaf.

He looked over her head to see the hackney had stopped a few yards away. The jarvey looked wide-eyed with shock. Nick signaled to open the door, and the man bent down and did so. Nick swept Pru into his arms and carried her to the coach. He did not lift her inside and set her down, but kept hold of her. He stepped up and inside clutching her to him like a baby. He did not want to let go of her. His blood still ran cold at what had almost happened.

Nick sat down and held her on his lap. The hackney lurched into motion, and the brim of Pru’s bonnet struck him in the face. He reached under her chin, untied the ribbons, and somehow managed to get the bonnet off her head. He flung it on the seat beside him, and tossed off his own hat to join it. Then he placed a hand on her head and held her against his shoulder, stroking her hair.

He could feel the frantic beating of her heart. Or perhaps it was his own.

“Pru, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should not have made you wait. If only I’d been on time, this never would have happened. Oh, my God, Pru.”

She did not speak, but burrowed closer. Her tiny body curled into his, so fragile, like a frightened bird. They might have killed her. His Pru. His little Pru. And that scoundrel had touched her breast. What else had he done?

“Are you sure they did not hurt you, my dear?”

She muttered something, but he could not hear. He tilted her head back so he could see her face.

“Did they hurt you?” He stroked his fingers along her cheeks and jaw and eyes, convincing himself that she was all right.

“No. But they w-would have if y-you hadn’t come.”

“Dear God.”

“I was s-so frightened. Oh, Nicholas. I was never so glad to s-see anyone in my life. I wanted you so badly, and then you were there.”

“Pru.”

He dipped his head and found her mouth with his. Her lips trembled slightly, but he did not care. She was frightened and he wanted to make her safe. He wanted to make her warm. He wanted…her.

She had waited all her life for this kiss. She ought to savor it. She out to pay close attention so that later, she could remember every detail. But she could think of nothing but that brute’s hands on her, and all she wanted was to forget. She wanted to crawl right inside Nicholas, to bury herself in his warmth, to let him erase the memory of what had happened.

And so she pressed her mouth against his, and forgot everything.

His lips were soft and velvety and tasted slightly of ale. They moved against hers first this way, then that, forcing her lips to open. She made a little noise of surprise when he dipped his
tongue inside her mouth. And then it touched hers, and began to circle and suck. Suddenly, everything else—the carriage, the street, the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, the memory of a dark alleyway—everything disappeared as her mind fell adrift on a tide of pure sensation.

He plundered her mouth with an urgency that sent the blood roaring in her head. He broke the kiss and arched her neck backward, trailing his lips to her throat and jaw, then to her eyes, and back to her mouth where it all began again.

She could not have said how long they kissed, but it seemed like a lifetime. And it was not long enough.

When it was over, he pressed her head to his shoulder once again and held her close. They did not speak. They did not move.

Pru snuggled against his poor, ruined neckcloth, closed her eyes, and considered all that had happened. She did not want to think of Creed Lane and the two men who’d grabbed her. The big, slovenly one had tried to kiss her, but she’d wriggled away from his fleshy mouth and his foul breath. She was glad he had not kissed her. She would have felt violated, dirty, not worthy to have Nicholas’s lips touch hers.

Somewhere in the recesses of her consciousness, there was a lingering terror over the assault. But it had been pushed aside by something more powerful. Something life-changing. Something she wanted to remember and savor forever.

Pru had read about kisses that ignited body and
soul. In truth, she had never been entirely certain such a thing was possible. She wasn’t even sure what it meant, though she had fantasized about it, in the way young girls do. She’d thought perhaps it was a romantic ideal that didn’t exist in the real world.

But now she knew. It was no fantasy. Body and soul could indeed be entirely overwhelmed by a kiss. It had been even more wonderful than she had imagined. She had not expected such a powerful physical response. No one ever told her that a person’s body could feel like that, especially low in her belly, and lower still. She had not been prepared for it, but she knew she wanted more, even if she did not know quite what more there was.

If Nicholas was finally going to make her his wife in more than name, as she hoped, she was soon to discover what it was.

She had never been more ready. And she needed him. She needed his warmth.

The hackney pulled to a stop, and Pru stifled a groan. She did not want to move from Nicholas’s lap.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you walk?”

“Of course.”

And so he lifted her from his lap and placed her on the seat beside him. He opened the door and jumped down, paid off the jarvey, then reached in to hand her down. They walked in silence to the front steps.

Lucy opened the door and stepped aside to let them in. She looked a bit surprised to be handed Pru’s bonnet along with Nicholas’s hat, and her eyes grew saucerlike when she saw the blood on Nicholas’s shirt.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you, Lucy,” Nicholas said. “But will you be so good as to draw a bath for Mrs. Parrish? She has had a rather unsettling experience and will need to relax. And I think you’d better have a light supper sent up for her on a tray. Is that all right, Pru? You’ve been through a lot. I think it best if you went straight to bed.”

She nodded her head. Her throat had closed up and she did not think she could speak without bursting into tears. He was sending her off to bed like a good little girl. After kissing her like that. After blistering her soul inside out. After setting her body on fire, he was
still
not going to make love to her.

How much more ready did he think she needed to be?

“Is my father at home?”

“No sir. He went out earlier. I believe he was going to the opera.”

“He was going with Flora.” She had lost her fire and found her voice, though even to her ear it sounded flat. She had no expression to give it. She had grown suddenly empty.

“With Flora?” Nicholas asked. “Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Did Flora tell you?”

“No. But they were going together. I know.”

Nicholas frowned and gave a little shrug. “Then I shall have my dinner in the back parlor, if you please, Lucy. Oh, and tell Mrs. Gibb we are sorry to be so late. It was all my fault. All my fault.”

He turned to Pru and she was shocked at the look on his face. He appeared to be badly shaken. He was in the grip of some sort of powerful emotion, but she could not be sure what it was. Anger? Despair? Disappointment?

He took her hand in his. “I am so sorry, Pru. Dreadfully, dreadfully sorry. For everything.”

Pru made her desultory way up the stairs and could feel his eyes staring after her as he stood below in the hall.

Had he really meant
everything
?

N
ick was not looking forward to this evening.

He was in no mood for a ball, especially a grand aristocratic ball in a ducal mansion where he would have to smile a lot and pretend to be happy.

He was not happy.

The week had begun with an assault on his wife—or two assaults, if one counted his own—that had shaken him to his bootheels. Then had come the news that the
Ulysses
had been lost, taking with it a sizable investment of Nick’s cash. And today, he’d learned the Culwyn canal project appeared close to failure.

And now, to top off the week, he had to dress up in his best coat and escort his wife to a ball given by the Duke and Duchess of Norwich. He would
much prefer to sit home and get blindingly drunk. But he was not his own man anymore. He could not do everything he wanted.

“Stop pacing,” his father said. “You’ll wear a hole in the carpet.”

“And God knows I cannot afford to replace it.”

“Is it that bad?”

“It is not good. But I suppose in reality I am no worse off than I was last week. I simply have fewer prospects.”

“Can I help you, son?”

Nick turned to his father, who was looking very distinguished in a dark blue jacket and silver knee breeches with paste buckles to match the buckles on his shoes. He had not seen him in such elegant attire in a dozen years or more.

“Thank you, Father, but you have done enough already. I have become impatient, that is all. I want to get started. But let’s not talk about that tonight. I’m cross as a bear already. I need to put on a smile for Pru’s family.”

He walked to the sideboard and poured another glass of claret. What the devil was taking Pru so long?

“It was exceedingly kind of Prudence’s father to arrange an invitation for me,” his father said. “I met the duke once, you know. Your mother did some decorative work at Beaufoy years ago. A nice enough fellow, as I recall. A bit blustery.”

“They’re all blustery. You’ll have to bellow to be heard above their voices.”

“I can bellow with the best of them, my boy. And so can Flora. She is thrilled to be invited, by the way.”

“Yes, I know. She has said so, quite often.” Nick studied his father as he took another swallow of wine. “You know, Father, this whole business with Flora has taken me quite by surprise. Pru figured it out well before I did.”

“Do you disapprove? Because of her past?”

“No.”

“Because of your mother?”

“Good heavens, no. You’ve been alone far too long. It’s just that I never would have imagined a woman like Flora would interest you.”

“Why not? She reminds me of your mother.”

“She does?”

“Not physically, of course. But she has that same way of grabbing on to life and enjoying every moment, of plunging headfirst into whatever takes her fancy, of never doing anything halfway.”

“Hmm. I suppose you’re right. Well, just remember Flora is a woman of the world.”

“And I am not a complete fool, my boy. If I may give you a bit of fatherly advice: Mind your own business.”

Nick grinned. “Point taken.” He sat down in a chair opposite his father and placed his wineglass on the candlestand that stood beside it. The claret had soothed his nerves a bit, but he was still anxious to get on with the evening.

“Tell me, son, how is Prudence? Has she recovered, do you think, from that horrible incident the other evening?”

Nick shrugged. He wasn’t sure which was the more horrible incident—being accosted by a pair of rowdies, or being taken advantage of by the man who had promised not to impose himself upon her. He hated what he had done, as much as he’d enjoyed it at the time. She’d been so small and sweet and vulnerable. And he’d been reeling from the strength of his reaction to finding her in danger. The sight of that brute’s hands on her had made him see red. His blood was up, and he had not been able to stop himself.

Pru’s response was as passionate as he could have hoped, but even in the moment, a part of him had been aware that she, too, was reacting to danger. She had needed comforting, and had taken it from him. When he realized he was about to fondle her breast, just as that savage in the alley had done, he had pulled away and wrapped her in his arms. Where he should have kept her the whole time. She had needed human warmth and comfort, not another assault on her person.

He’d been so ashamed, he had not been able to say a word. And even in the days since, nothing was said about it. But he’d thought about it constantly. About how much he wanted her. The depth of that desire quite startled him.

When this marriage had been forced upon them, Nick had never imagined anything more than a decorous coupling with Pru. He had been quite
blind to the fire beneath the surface. There was no longer anything remotely decorous about his imaginings. He had tasted that fire, and he wanted more.

He was ashamed for thinking such thoughts when he knew full well Pru’s passion had been born of terror. He was a cad for taking such despicable advantage of her.

“She seems to be all right,” he said at last. “A bit quiet, but then she always was.”

“Take care with her, my boy. She will be especially fragile for some time, I should think. I imagine it was a terrifying experience for her.”

“Yes, it was, poor thing. And for me, too. I swear, Father, if she had not come running into my arms for safety, I think I might have killed the man. I don’t know when I have ever felt such rage.”

“You will feel the same if ever a child of yours is in danger,” Bartholomew said. “When a loved one is threatened, I believe the rational brain ceases to function and pure animal instinct takes over. The instinct to protect and defend at any cost.”

A loved one
.

Before he could consider those words, the sound of voices announced the approach of Pru and Flora. At last. Flora had arrived a short while ago, and had disappeared upstairs to help Pru dress. She had managed, though, to whisper to Nick that he would see his wife in a whole new light tonight. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was anxious to find out.

He and his father rose to their feet as the two ladies entered the drawing room. Nick’s eyes
found Pru, and the sight of her robbed him of breath. She seemed to float into the room in a cloud of some sort of soft lavender fabric that moved with her body in a disconcertingly sensual manner. But his eyes were drawn to her bosom, for he was seeing more of it tonight than he had ever seen, and it was a glorious revelation.

He realized he was staring when Flora began to laugh.

“I do believe I heard a gasp,” she said. “Did you hear it, Pru?”

Nick walked toward his wife and offered his arm. He could not take his eyes from her. “You look magnificent, my dear.”

Pru smiled, and only the slightest hint of a blush colored her cheeks. Her hair was again tortured into submission, gathered up with several gold combs in a classical style that suited her well, though he imagined a rebellious curl or two would spring loose before half an hour passed. That slender, bare neck, along with the additional expanse of bosom revealed by the deep neckline, was a feast of beautiful pale skin that simply cried out to be touched. And stroked. And kissed.

Flora was right. Nick was seeing his wife in a new light. And it was blinding.

“I will be the most envied gentleman at the ball, he said, “to have such a prize on my arm.”

“What nonsense,” she said, though her smile showed her pleasure at his words.

Hats and shawls were gathered up and the four
of them made their way downstairs. Flora had come in her own rather elegant carriage, and Bartholomew joined her there as her escort. Nick had rented a town carriage for the evening, knowing it was too grand an affair to arrive in a hackney coach. It was an expensive evening, and he still harbored a niggling aggravation over it, after a week when his meager capital had been seriously threatened. But every time he glanced down at his wife’s bosom, he forgot to care.

He handed Pru up, and joined her inside. Lord, she even smelled good. It was getting very difficult to honor the promise he’d made to himself to keep his distance. For days he’d been feeling caddish for the way he had ravished her mouth after rescuing her from those two louts, knowing she’d been too vulnerable to reject him.

From the beginning of their marriage, he had promised her they would take it slow. And up to that point, he had done so. In the days since the assault, he’d sworn himself to backing off. Not all the way back. Though he had not touched her since then in any way that could be considered intimate, he’d hoped to persuade her into another kiss tonight. Something less explosive than the last one. But he had a feeling she would not entirely reject a gentle kiss. And then, one step at a time they could move toward complete intimacy.

He had been determined to stay that course because he knew, despite her active response to his kiss in the hackney, that she was still a bit skittish when it came to the sexual aspect of marriage. He
must remember that before the assault, this had been a woman who trembled at his touch, blushed scarlet at the mention of marital intimacy, and gasped in shock at their first simple kiss.

Tonight, though, he would be hard-pressed to maintain his good intentions. She had a bosom, dammit. A very nice one, too. How the devil was he to keep his hands off her?

Sometimes it really was tiresome to be a gentleman of honor.

Pru had never been happier in all her life. Her husband thought she looked magnificent, and quite frankly, so did she. She hadn’t been certain about the plunging neckline, but Nicholas had not been able to keep his eyes from it. And she was fairly certain he was not staring in disapproval. It was still a bit disconcerting to be so exposed, but Madame Lanchester had been right. She did feel more stylish, and her neckline was really no more daring than those of most of the women present.

She and Nicholas had danced the opening set, and to Pru’s astonishment, several other gentleman had solicited her hand for a set. And not all of them cousins. For the first time in her life, she was promised for every single dance. She felt positively giddy.

“Every set, Pru? Nothing left for me?”

“I’m sorry, Nicholas.”

“Not even the supper dance?”

“It is promised to my cousin Robert.”

“Which one is he?”

“Tall, blond…”

Nicholas laughed. “Please. You will have to do better than that, my dear.”

“He is the handsome one in the beautiful claret-colored waistcoat embroidered all over with golden dragonflies.”

“Ah, yes.” He scowled a bit, and Pru wondered why he would possibly object to Robert. Perhaps he thought the waistcoat too flashy.

“He is my uncle Frederick’s youngest son,” she said, “only a few years older than me, but I don’t believe he has spoken three words to me since we were children. I cannot imagine why he invited me to join him for the supper dance. Or any of the others, either.”

“Can you not?” His eyes drifted to her bosom and she blushed. “You look good enough to eat, Pru, and they all want a bite.”

Pru stared at him and wondered if he had perhaps had too much to drink. He was acting strangely possessive. Almost…jealous.

But then she remembered that he always played the role of a lovestruck husband at family functions. It was all an act, of course.

“Prudence?” Her cousin Edgar had approached. “It is my set, I believe.”

She danced set after set until her feet were sore and she welcomed the respite of supper. She sat with Robert Armitage at a small table near Bartholomew and Flora. And she was pleased to see Nick seated with Joanna Draycott. She hoped they would become friends, too.

“Marriage certainly agrees with you, Prudence,” Robert said. “You are quite aglow, you know. You look wonderful.”

“Thank you, Robert. You are very kind to say so, but I fear I am simply flushed from dancing.”

“No, I think not. It is more than that.” He leaned forward so that his face was inches from hers. “You are like a little butterfly just come out of its cocoon. It is your marriage, I think, that has made the difference. Are you in love, Prudence?” He flashed a suggestive smile.

“Perhaps,” she said, then remembered the love match fiction. “Of course I am.”

“It shows. I am pleased for you, cousin. I always thought you quite the little mouse, but I see now it just took the right man to unlock your secrets. Parrish is a very lucky fellow.”

“Thank you, Robert.” At first she thought he was teasing her, or even flirting with her, but she realized he was quite serious. She flashed him a warm smile. “And thank you for inviting me to dance and to supper. That was very kind of you, and quite unexpected.”

“Because you are accustomed to being a wallflower?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I wanted to have supper with you so I could tell you how sorry I am about that. About letting you be a wallflower, I mean. We have all treated you shabbily over the years, and I regret that with all my heart. If I had known you would blossom
so prettily, I would have paid more attention.”

“You rogue, it is my dress and…my dress that makes you notice me, that is all.”

He laughed. “It is a lovely dress, Prudence, and definitely shows you to advantage. And it is true that if you had worn such a dress long before now, you would never have been a wallflower. I would have danced with you, I promise.”

“Are you flirting with me, Robert?”

“I don’t dare. Your husband is glaring daggers at me.”

She looked over to where Joanna and Nicholas sat, and he was indeed watching them. Pru smiled at him, but he only scowled and turned away. How very odd.

She settled in to eat the light supper, and she and Robert chatted and laughed over family gossip. In such a large family, there was never a shortage of news.

“The orchestra is starting,” Robert said. “Are you ready to dance again?”

“I am always ready to dance. I have years of being a wallflower to make up for.”

Robert laughed and took her arm. They came up beside Joanna and Nicholas as they made their way to the dance floor. Joanna touched her arm, leaned over, and whispered, “I believe your husband is jealous, my dear. That is a good sign, is it not?”