Guarding a Notorious Lady (18 page)

She couldn’t answer, she couldn’t think. She shuddered and he kissed her, deeply, coaxingly. And then his thumb flicked a particularly sensitive spot and she choked back a sob.

Looking down, she gave a low whimper at the sight of his large tan hand, cupping her between her pale thighs, his fingers disappearing and reappearing, his thumb flicking within her dark curls. Her head dropped back and she panted.

His mouth slid downward to the swell of her breasts. He bit gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue. Using teeth and that deft tongue of his, he pulled down the square bodice until one breast bobbed free.

“Nicholas,” she gasped.

His warm breath feathered the ruched tip a second before he fastened his mouth over it, alternating sucking hard and flicking his tongue until she thought she’d go mad.

If Nicholas showed her indifference before, he certainly wasn’t now. Rosalind arched her back, reveling in the waves of sensation, marveling in his ardent attention, pushing all doubts to the far corners of her mind.

He feasted upon her breast while his fingers relentlessly moved. Her hips seemed to move of their own accord, a frantic pace.

Rosalind moaned low and deep. Pleasure built inside her, budding a strange frustration that was equal parts maddening and wonderful. All of a sudden it burst through her, sending shocks of bliss that startled her with their intensity. Her shoulders lifted from the floor.

Nicholas muffled her startled cry of pleasure with a kiss. She clamped her thighs tightly shut, trapping his hand there, but he never stopped moving. Not until she breathed again, her shoulders lowering to the ground.

Breathless, she peeked open her eyes and found his gaze hot upon her. He brought up the finger he had sunk into her and gave it a savoring lick.

“Nicholas,” she breathed, another wave of pleasure rippling through her. “What was that? Did you . . . did you feel it, too?”

“To the depths of my soul.”

They looked at each other intently for another full minute before he turned away.

He pulled her nightdress down to cover her damp thighs. He was out of breath and too stunned by the beauty of her climax to feel guilty. But it would come, no doubt.

allowing himself to stare down at her for only one more moment, he rolled away, giving her his back, his erection aching from thwarted desire.

Behind him, he heard her descent back to earth.

Her breathing was returning to normal, but she was very still.

Nicholas took several deep breaths. He felt a tugging at his sleeve.

Leaning on one arm, he looked over his shoulder.

She was gazing at him with wonder in her eyes.

She was relaxed and sleepy now, and her sable hair swirled around her like a goddess, her normally pale skin now a dusty pink, and her mouth slightly swol en from his kisses.

She lifted a listless hand and gently ran her fingers down his jawline. He kissed her fingertips and she smiled.

Shame wormed through his thoughts. He closed his eyes against the sight of her.

Dear God, he had ravished his best friend’s sister on the carpet in her room. He was a beast. A monster. He deserved pistols at dawn.

“Nicholas,” she said softly.

He shook his head, unable to look at her. Standing, he held out his hands and helped her to stand. He held her to him for a brief moment, cradling her head to his chest.

Placing a kiss in her hair, he whispered, “This changes nothing. And everything.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she said, her tone husky and confused.

“I shouldn’t have touched you,” he said, surprised his brogue had thickened.

“I wanted you to,” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “Here I was warning you away from the advances of men. I wanted to show you how easily a man can overtake a woman. And then
I
overtook you.” He dropped his arms, releasing her, and took a step away.

“No. No, Nicholas,” she said hurriedly. “I grabbed you. I pulled you down.”

“Aye, but I didn’t have to follow you.” He walked away from her and headed toward the window.

“You’re upset,” she announced.

“Aye. I am. But not with you. I’m sorry, lass.”

“I don’t want you to be
sorry
,” she exclaimed, irritation laced in her voice.

“Well, you should,” he replied. At the window, he swung a leg over the sill. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did,” she said, sounding almost shrill. “It did and now you want to pretend that it was nothing?” He shook his head. The breeze at his back increased, blowing ominously into the room, making the flames in the hearth bend and brighten. His loose shirt, untucked by Rosalind’s own hands, Bill owed in the storm-charged air.

“I can’t pretend anymore,” he said softly, his tone grim. “The truth is I want you. I think I’ve wanted you for a very long time.”

“And now you’re done,” she stated with a shrug of irritation.

He flicked his hair out of his eyes, chuckling low and self-deprecatingly. “If only I were that easily appeased.”

“Why couldn’t we—”

“I owe much to your brother,” he said forcefully. “I cannot dishonor my promise.”

Her smile held no warmth. “It’s a little too late for that, no?”

He gave her a solemn nod. “Aye. But it stops here.

We will go no further. ”

Her eyes seemed to brighten, and he hoped it was with anger, not tears. Nicholas was stricken again by the way she tugged at his heart.

But instincts told him that he must treat her coldly now. If he didn’t, if he was tender, like he wanted to be, she might foolishly invite him in her bed, and then he would surely make love to her. She must think of him as the lowliest of scoundrels. After all, he felt like one.

“Rosalind, you must realize I was asked to protect you.”

“Indeed.” She stared at the fire in the grate, a growing resentment smoldering in her gaze. “And who will protect me from you, Nicholas?”

He swung his other leg over the sill and reached for the limb of the sprawling oak next to the house. “You will be safe from me.” He gave her a nod, then ducked away into the turbulent night just like the thief he feared he was.

If he would have hesitated a moment longer, he would have heard Rosalind whisper, “Indeed, Nicholas. But you certainly won’t be safe from me.”
Chapter 13

R
osalind rather thought that two days spent moping around the town house was sufficient time to execute a proper sulking.

Not to mention the fact that staying indoors was, in an indirect way, making the current situation rather easy for Nicholas.

Did he think they could go back to the way things were after what had happened? Would he regain his aloof façade, expecting her to forget coming blissfully apart under his sensual command? Did he think she would simply continue matchmaking and flitting from ball to ball, all the while casting narrow-eyed glares in his direction? Did he think
s h e
was so easily appeased?

Stepping into the foyer, Rosalind headed for the oval mirror near the door to check her appearance.

She felt an unbidden need to see him again—she adjusted the bit of lace spilling from her bodice—and for him to see her.

After she finished sulking this afternoon, she decided a small outing was in order and informed Alice

of

her

plans.

Her

maid

responded

enthusiastically, and Rosalind ordered a small luncheon to be packed and the carriage brought around.

Satisfied that all was working out as planned, Rosalind swirled into the study to talk to Tristan before she left.

“All right, I admit it,” Rosalind proclaimed as she entered.

Seated across from Briggs, a game of chess positioned on a small rosewood table between them, Tristan studied the board, rubbing his jaw in thought.

“Admit what?”

“That I am not perfect.”

He gave a small puff of air, indicating he thought her very arrogant. “I was not aware that you thought you were.”

“In my
matchmaking
capabilities,” she remarked impatiently. “I’ve found that I have certain limitations.” He sighed, his fingers poised over his black bishop. “What happened?” he murmured, sounding resigned. He flicked a quick glance at her, his eyes returning to the chess game for only a second before swinging back to her in shock. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

“What?” she asked, looking down at her pale pink frock. The bodice was scandalously low, but she and Alice had stuffed a bit of lace into her corset in order to conceal the swells of her bosom. “Is it not suitable for the park?”

“Suitable?” he squeaked out, looking angry. “That color is paral ell to the shade of your skin, Rosalind.

For a second I thought you were naked.” She smiled, a breath of relief whooshing through her. “So you think he’ll notice?”

“If he doesn’t notice you, it’s because he’s dead.

Dare I ask just who in particular you are trying to attract?”

Her eyes swung to Briggs, widened meaningfully, then swung back to Tristan.

“I assume you’d like our butler to give us a bit of privacy?” His lips quirked with a smile. “Or is Briggs the poor fell ow you’ve set your cap for?” The old man chuckled softly and stood.

“Will you excuse us, Briggs?” Rosalind asked. “I hate to interrupt your game.”

“Pay no mind, my lady. Master Tristan here is thrashing me soundly, and I should like a respite.” Bowing stiffly, he backed out the door, closing it as he left.

Tristan eyed the door with a wry smile. “Blast that old man.”

“Tristan!”

“Do you not recognize veiled sarcasm when you hear it, Rosie? He wants you to think he’s yielding to my superior chess mastery . . .”

“Chess mastery?”

“ . . . when the truth is, I’ve never met his match playing chess. He’s cunning and ruthless. I highly suspect that on the rare occasion that I
do
manage to win a match, it’s because he let me.” He shook his head slowly, glaring at the chess board.

“If you cannot best him, why do I often find the two of you engaged in this game?”

Tristan just glared at her.

Rosalind’s brow quirked as the distinctive sound of Briggs’s mocking cackle resounded from the other side of the door.

“See? He’s not to be trusted.” Tristan stood and stretched. “So, who is it that caught your interest? I will not lie and say that I’m not intrigued.”

“Well,” she started, swallowing nervously. “I’m not prepared to disclose that information. However, I would like to ask for a bit of . . .”

“Yes?”

“Gabriel isn’t here and I should like to ask him.

Although I don’t know if I would have enough courage to, and it really wouldn’t be prudent. No.” She shook her head. “He might not take me seriously. Perhaps Madelyn. Yes, I would ask Madelyn if I could. I could never ask Lucy. Lucy wouldn’t leave me be after she found out.”

“Rosalind, you’re babbling.”

She blinked. “So sorry. It’s just that . . . I seem to know how to make matches for others, just not myself.”

His brow scrunched together. “I think I told you something similar the other day, did I not?” She nodded, unsmiling. “I realize you may have no advice to impart, you being one and twenty, and well, a man, but if one knows someone might be, no,
is
attracted to them but is holding themselves back for some reason, is there any way to make oneself irresistible to them?” Her smile felt more like a cringe.

Her little speech didn’t quite come out as she had thought it would.

“Irresistible?” Tristan’s scowl looked frighteningly like Gabriel’s. “Nicholas?” he asked, his voice so low she almost wasn’t sure he’d said it.

She hardened her chin. “Yes.”

Something akin to relief crossed his features, making him look older and wiser than his years.

“Well,” he said, placing his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. “My brotherly advice would be to let him come to you. Don’t chase, make no demands.

He’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“That’s it?” She couldn’t keep the pang of disappointment from her tone.

“I’m your brother.” He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “How can you expect me to tell you what to do to attract a man?” He sounded baffled and astounded.

Rosalind became amused. “Surely you can do better than ‘Don’t chase, don’t demand,’ ” she said, mimicking his baritone. “Come on, then! Tell me something good! Something wicked!”

“I will do no such thing!” He was starting to look embarrassed.

“AHA! So you do know things,” she accused.

He started backing toward the door. “I admit nothing. Now, don’t you have to go shopping? And where’s Aunt Eugenia?”

Rosalind sighed impatiently. “In the garden working on her needlepoint.”

“Ahh,” he said with feigned admiration. “I’ve always enjoyed watching that woman work at her needlepoint.”

“Oh, stop. You do not.”

Tristan did a remarkable job at looking earnest. “So sorry, but I must away. Don’t want to miss a single stitch, you know.”

Rosalind laughed. “Wait. I seem to remember you murmuring something at the Fairfax musicale last year—something about watching Miss Marianne eat a piece of fruit? What was it? I can’t recall.” She would swear Tristan blushed. “I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do.”

He jerked his chin in the direction of the window. “If you’ve planned an outing, you’d best hurry. Looks like rain again.”

Sighing, she strode to the window. Unsurprisingly, she saw nothing but blue sky.

“You’re such a sneak . . .” she said as she turned, but he was gone.

Shaking her head, Rosalind walked into the hall.

Alice was standing at the open door speaking quietly to Briggs.

“Are you ready, Alice? I thought I’d do a bit of shopping, and then have luncheon in the park. A good plan, I think.”

“Indeed. It’s such a fine day, and my Nell ie should be there with the new baby.”

Rosalind smiled genuinely, descending the front steps and ducking inside the carriage. “Wonderful.”
T
he storm that had blown through the city the night Nicholas had come to her room had been followed by two full days of bright sunshine, but the air yet held a dampness to it, as did the ground.