Heart of the Diamond (30 page)

Nicki swung her leg over the timber and used her elbows to brace herself. She felt Blake touch her calves. With a deep breath, she lowered herself slowly until her feet touched his shoulders. Still holding on to the beam, she looked down. The earl's head had become enveloped in her dusty skirts. If she fell, or jumped she would likely break his neck. Devil take it.

“Blake, can you step to your right, towards the wall? I can hang on to that and you can release my . . . you can release me and get my skirts away from your . . . face.”

A muffled reply sounded, but he did as she suggested. She grabbed the top of the wall and Blake reached up to lift her skirts off his head. She grinned down at him, noting the ruddiness of his cheeks.

“Light as you are, I would prefer to continue this intimacy in much more romantic surroundings. Would you kindly ease yourself down?”

She nodded wordlessly. In an instant she was on the ground. “There! That was not so bad.”

He jammed his fingers through his tousled raven hair, but a lock slipped onto his brow. “It was a rare treat, to be certain.”

Nicki gave him a small smile. “Hera is getting jealous. You had best not pay me too much attention when she is near.”

Glancing at the horse, Blake laughed. Hera watched them steadily with an expression that could only be described as offended. “Do not worry your pretty head, my girl. There is plenty of me to go around.”

As Blake gently lifted Hera's eyelids, then checked her nostrils, Nicki mulled over his words. Plenty of him to go around? Somehow she did not like that thought by half. As long as he meant only horses, she supposed she could accept that.

“How is she?”

Blake opened Hera's mouth and the mare jerked her head away impatiently. “She seems better. Let us see if she will take some water. It would be the best thing for her.”

Nicki retrieved the bucket and held it beneath Hera's muzzle, but the mare turned her head away, uninterested. “Perhaps if you offer it, my lord?”

He arched a brow to express his doubt, but took the pail anyway. Hera nearly knocked it from his hands in her eagerness to drink. Nicki giggled at Blake's obvious surprise.

“I do not believe I have ever had a female show me such devotion.”

Joy swelled in Nicki's heart. “You had best accustom yourself, my lord. You shall have more than your fair share from this point forward.”

Blake sat against the rough boards of the wall, his arm across one bent knee, the other leg stretched out before him. He watched Nicole where she slept, curled up in the corner opposite him. Emotions swirled inside him—emotions he had thought long lost to him. She murmured softly, a frown furrowed her brow.

So she had secrets. Thinking of her words the night before, he found it difficult to believe someone so pure of heart could possess anything but light and goodness in their soul. He could not recall ever knowing anyone like Nicole before.

With every look, she made him feel special, worthy of being loved. He would have to beware of the emotions she evoked. She put such trust in him that with every ounce of his being he longed to earn that regard. But he could not allow her to distract him from his purpose.

Hera whickered softly. Blake got up and went to her. She had taken some grain about an hour earlier. After a long day of careful tending, she seemed to be well on the road to recovery. Perhaps now Nicole would feel comfortable leaving her.

Footfalls sounded on the wooden floor and Blake stiffened. When Angelica appeared at the opening of the stall carrying a basket, he relaxed only slightly. She held a lantern and, seeing Nicole asleep, lowered it to the floor outside.

Her gaze focused on Blake as she spoke in a quiet tone. “I thought the two of you might be hungry. You missed two meals, after all.”

Blake accepted the basket with a nod. “She refused to go and I could not leave her on the chance something might happen.”

“She does love the horses. Since she was a young child she has constantly slipped away to hide out wherever they are.”

“It is very late. You could have sent a servant.”

Angelica watched Nicole, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “I wanted to check on her myself.”

“She refused to give up hope. I honestly thought the horse would die, but I had to try—for her sake.”

In the darkness, Blake had the strangest sense of familiarity as Angelica looked up at him. It was like seeing a gossamer vision of Nicole. She smiled and the image shattered. “I see she has pulled you in as well. We have all been the beneficiaries of Nicole's unflagging willpower.”

“You speak of her as if she were a force of nature, not a young woman.”

“Do I? Perhaps that is the way I see her. I have tried so very hard to give her some sense of stability. She fights me at every turn.”

Blake glanced at Nicole. She slept on, oblivious to her surroundings. “You are a forceful woman yourself. Perhaps you threaten her.”

“No matter. I would be content to see her happy. If you will allow it, she could find that happiness with you.”

He set the basket aside. “I will make a home for her, but I will not promise more.”

Angelica moved to lean wearily against the wall Blake had recently abandoned. “Will you spend the rest of your life beating yourself against a wall of revenge?”

He met her gaze squarely. “That is none of your business.”

Her lips twitched slightly. “Perhaps not. But I see what you are doing, even if Jonathon chooses not to. He believes you will forget the past. He cannot imagine anyone carrying such hatred in their heart that they would destroy a young woman—and anything or anyone else just for the sake of vengeance.”

“Would you behave any differently?”

“I have, Lord Diamond. Once everything I held dear was stripped from me. I thought I would never feel anything but agony and despair. I was wrong. Life goes on. You can dwell in the past and torture yourself every waking moment, or you can go on. I chose to go on—and eventually all that I had lost was returned to me.”

Blake concentrated on a sliver embedded in his forefinger. “What I have lost can never be replaced. My father died alone because I could not be here with him.” He fastened his stare on her. “He died before I could tell him I was sorry—tell him the truth. Now—I can never tell him.”

“He knows, Blake. You were his son.”

He could not fathom the reason he had revealed so much. He owed this woman no explanations. “You said it exactly. I was his son. I will never see him again in this lifetime because of a foolish weakness on my part. Now you ask me to show the same weakness and forget all that was done to me. I will not. I cannot.”

A rustle of straw behind him alerted him that Nicole had awakened. He turned, the harshness in him subsiding of its own accord at the sight of her. She smiled sleepily. So damn trusting.

Nicole looked from him to Angelica and a guardedness entered her gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought food.”

Nicole blinked in surprise, stood, dusted off her clothes and plucked straw from her tangled hair. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“It is quite late, Nicole. Shall I have a bath drawn for you?”

Glancing at Blake, Nicole hesitated. “I . . . I truly do not wish to leave Hera.”

Blake stroked the horse's neck. “She is well on her way to recovery, Nicole. Tomorrow I shall return and, with Andrew's assistance, remove the sling.”

“But—”

“Have your meal here with Blake.” Angelica went to the stall opening, then glanced back. “In an hour a bath will be waiting for you. Then you should sleep. I have informed the guests neither of you will be joining in the card games tonight.”

Obviously softening, Nicole smiled again. “Thank you.”

“An hour, Nicole. No longer. I will not have you making yourself ill.”

And she was gone. The stable once again declined into silence. Nicole moved to the basket and removed the folded cloth covering the contents.

“Since you are so clever at construction, my lord, perhaps you can find an appropriate dining area.”

Blake retrieved a decrepit crate nearby and stood it on end between them. With a flourish that startled Hera, he dropped the cloth over the surface. Nicole chuckled and proceeded to unpack the basket. Freshly baked bread, two ceramic tureens of soup, and a crock of milk. Simple fare but manna for two starving people. Blake took the soup bowl and spoon offered him. Nicole poured the milk into two mugs.

She took a drink then set her cup aside. A mustache of white rimmed her upper lip and Blake reached out to wipe it away gently with his thumb. An enchanting flush rose in her cheeks as Nicole licked the path he had traced. The action propelled him back to the remains of Winterhaven—reminded him of the sweetness of her mouth and the heat generated by their bodies melded together. He saw the frantic flutter of Nicole's pulse at her neck, wondered what it would feel like beneath his lips . . . 

With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped his hand. “I think we work very well together,” he said matter-of-factly to hide his sudden desire.

Nervously, Nicole picked up the spoon next to her bowl. “I am so grateful for all you did today. If not for you, Hera would surely have died.”

“I might have put her out of her misery, but you have a damnable manner of making a man feel he can conquer the world.”

“It bothers you that I believe in you?” She met his gaze steadily.

Blake reached for the bread and broke off a large piece, which he handed to Nicole before taking one for himself. “I have told you before I do not want you to get your hopes up, yet you continue to do just that. What am I to do with you?”

“Admit defeat and stop fighting me so.”

Her whispered words wound an insidious path directly to his heart. What she suggested should have been simple. But he could not let go of the past. She knew nothing of the hatred that drove him. Such an emotion would likely horrify her, and she would turn from him in disgust.

“I will stop fighting you when you leave off trying to change me. I am what I am, Nicole. No more, no less. You have bought into the deal as it is. You cannot say I did not warn you.”

“Very well, hold on to your foolish ideals for the time being. Do not be surprised when you awaken one morning to find that I have actually managed to make you happy.” She tore off a small piece of bread and placed the bite in her mouth with exaggerated care.

He stifled a smile at her obstinance and her deliberate attempt to antagonize him. “I thought the custom was that I would awaken one morning to find myself in Bedlam.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Whatever brings you happiness, my lord.”

Nicki paused at the foot of the staircase. Light filtered beneath the door to her father's study. With a sigh, she moved toward it and knocked softly. The door creaked open slightly.

“Who's there?”

She peeked into the room. “Nicki, Papa. Can I come in?”

Her father, seated behind his desk, laid his pen down and smiled in welcome. “Of course, girl. I was hoping you'd stop in. How's your Hera?”

Nicki dropped into a chair opposite her father's desk. Her muscles screamed in protest. “She will be fine, thanks to the earl.”

“I'll have to extend my gratitude.”

She noted the slight hardening in the tone of his speech. “He could not have done this, Papa. I even believed . . . but only for a moment. Once I was thinking more clearly I realized he is not capable of such cruelty.”

After setting aside the leather-bound journal open before him, her father raised his tired gaze to Nicki. “Whoever is responsible, the result is the same. It's left for me to go to those who were promised the horses. We'll not have our income for the year. My reputation will be tarnished, perhaps irreparably. It's bound to hurt future business.”

“There must be something we can do, Papa!”

“Do you want to sell some of our breeding stock? Diana, Aphrodite, Zeus?”

Nicki dropped her gaze. She could not bear to part with any of them. They had become a part of the family. Sadly, she shook her head.

“Just as I thought, so I must go at once. Best not to delay. Bad news has a way of spreading like the plague.”

“But—you will wait until after the wedding?”

“The wedding.” Her father dropped his head into his hands in an unfamiliar gesture of defeat. “Have I done wrong by you, Nick? Dylan was once a good boy, but hate has a way of eating away at the soul. I won't hand you over to a monster. You deserve someone who'll love you.”

Nicki got to her feet and went to stand behind her father. She had never known him to be uncertain. “Part of growing up is living with one's mistakes, is that not so, Papa?”

“You're my daughter—my responsibility. Angelica reminded me of a mistake made years ago by—well, by another's parents. I see myself doing the same.”

She hugged him tightly from behind, resting her chin on his thick, silver streaked black hair. “This is not your mistake, Papa. It was I who went to the earl believing he was Teddy. It was my foolishness that landed me in this mess. You followed the only course open to you. If anyone is responsible for my predicament, it is I. And Blake. I admit it. And I also admit that I have grown extremely fond of him and I look forward to being his wife.”

Her father's shoulders tensed. “Ah, Nick, guard your heart well. Dylan has become as unpredictable as the winds. I don't want you destroyed by his bitterness.”

“It is that bitterness I wish to banish, Papa. I can do it, I know I can.”

He took one of her hands and drew her around to enfold her in a fierce hug. “Nicki girl, things happened—people were hurt. It has nothing to do with you, but you may be the one to pay in the end.”

She looked down, searching his face. “Tell me, Papa. Tell me what is between you!”

“It's not my place.” He averted his gaze. “If Dylan wants you to know, then he can be the one to tell you.”

“Is it so horrible then?”

“At the time, it was. Now—reflecting back—many lives were damaged beyond repair over a misunderstanding. I regret that. I can't change it, though. No one can.”

Nicki's throat tightened. “Blake's life was one of those damaged?”