Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (23 page)

Puzzled and curious, Victoria reached into the bag and pulled out a slim book. She stared at it and went perfectly still. She wasn’t certain if she were more shocked that her aunt possessed the volume or that she had given the book to her. She traced unsteady fingers over the discreet gold lettering on the brown leather cover.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore.

“You know of it, of course,” Aunt Delia said. “Everyone does. It’s been the talk of London for months. And with good reason, as its provocative advice steps far beyond what anyone would consider proper. But it offers direction and information I dearly wish I’d had at my disposal as a young woman. It’s filled with information I want
you
to have, Victoria. That you
need
to have. So that you do not make the same mistakes I did. So that you have the knowledge to choose wisely. This trip to Cornwall has provided you with the chance to learn about yourself, far away from Society’s prying eyes. It is an opportunity I dearly wish I’d had, and one I refuse to do anything to deny you.”

Victoria tore her gaze away from the book to look up. Aunt Delia’s blue eyes were filled with love and concern. Now she understood why her aunt had not been more dili
gent in her chaperoning duties. Without a word, Victoria slipped the book into the silk bag and handed it back to her aunt.

“I cannot accept it.”

A blush stained Aunt Delia’s cheeks. “I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

“Because I couldn’t possibly deprive you of your copy when I already have one of my own.” She cleared her throat. “A much read copy.”

Aunt Delia blinked, then quickly recovered her aplomb. She offered Victoria a gentle smile filled with such understanding, it brought a lump to Victoria’s throat. “Then have your adventure, darling. Live your life to the fullest. Do not allow your gender to determine your destiny. Rather, let Fate’s hand caress you. Leave something to Chance. Follow your heart and see where it leads. You will always have my unwavering support.” She pressed the silk bag containing the book to her chest and a look of determination came over her features. “Follow your heart,” she reiterated softly. “I intend to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want my heart, my soul, to sing. I deserve the grand passion, the happiness I was denied as a young woman, and should I have the opportunity, I’ll not be denied again. You deserve that passion and happiness as well, my dear.”

Victoria could scarce believe what she was hearing. Surely Aunt Delia wasn’t suggesting that she…But it certainly seemed she was encouraging her to…

Take Nathan as a lover.

Whoosh
. The mere idea speared fire through her that threatened to turn all her good intentions to ash. She hadn’t allowed the idea to take root in her mind for fear of
it overwhelming her. But now the thought was firmly planted. And growing at an alarming rate.

A knock sounded, startling both of them. “Come in,” Victoria said.

The door opened to reveal Nathan. Victoria’s heart shifted into a different beat. Harder, faster. His gaze swept over her, intense, searching, stealing her breath. Dressed in black breeches, white shirt, and an ivory waistcoat, he looked strong and masculine. And utterly beautiful. A shock of dark hair she knew felt like silk tumbled over his forehead, something that might have looked boyish on another man, but nothing about the man crossing the room could be described as boyish.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, his gaze taking in both of them. Then his attention focused solely on Victoria. “How are you feeling?”

Breathless. And it’s all your fault
. “Much improved. Dinner was delicious.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I confess this isn’t strictly a social call—I’m here as your physician.”

Aunt Delia stood. “Shall I leave?”

“Not at all. Indeed your presence would serve as a distraction for my patient, who has expressed an aversion to doctors. Please, continue your conversation.”

Victoria’s gaze flew to her aunt’s, whose eyes gleamed with unmistakable deviltry and mirth.

“Very well. Now what was it we were discussing, Victoria?” She adopted a puzzled expression and tapped her chin. “Ah, yes. Books we’ve recently read. What was the title you were recommending to me?”

Victoria coughed to disguise the bark of shocked laughter that rose in her throat. Heavens, when had Aunt Delia turned into such a minx? Praying the heat she felt in her
cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt, she said in a repressive tone,
“Hamlet.”

Aunt Delia was all bafflement. “Are you certain? I thought you said—”

“Hamlet,”
Victoria broke in hastily, torn between horror and hilarity. “Definitely
Hamlet
.”

Aunt Delia batted her eyes behind Nathan’s broad back. “And here I though it was
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.”

Nathan lifted one of Victoria’s hands and gently examined her scraped palm. “So that is what ladies chat about amongst themselves?” he asked in an amused voice. “Shakespeare?”

“Yes,” Victoria said quickly, before Aunt Delia could act upon the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Nathan smiled. “And here I thought you talked about men.”

“Shakespeare
was
a man,” she said in an arid tone, valiantly trying to ignore the tingles of pleasure his touch invoked while he tilted up her chin to peer at her cut.

“I meant living, breathing men.”

“Oh, we talk about them, too,” Aunt Delia chimed in.

“Among other things,” Victoria said with a quelling look at her aunt.

“My father and I missed you ladies at dinner this evening,” Nathan said, lowering the counterpane then smoothing up her night rail just enough to look at her knees. His touch and demeanor were completely impersonal, but there was nothing impersonal about the heat the brush of his hands ignited on her skin.

“Your brother did not dine with you?” Victoria asked, appalled at how breathless she sounded.

“No. He traveled to Penzance earlier today and isn’t expected home until late.” He lowered her gown and covered
her again with the sheet. Then he rose and smiled down at her. “Your bumps and cuts and scrapes are all looking fine. And you’re no longer pale.” His gaze touched her cheeks and a frown creased his brow. “In fact, you look rather flushed.” Reaching out, he laid his hand against her forehead. Good Lord, how to tell him that his touch would only serve to brighten her coloring?

“No fever,” he said with unmistakable relief, removing his hand.

“I feel fine. Truly. The ointment you used seemed to absorb the stinging.”

“Good. Still, you will experience some soreness tomorrow. But your warm bath will help that.” His gaze wandered across the room to the big brass tub that two footmen had set near the fireplace earlier. “I’ll arrange for the water to be sent up. And when you’re finished bathing, it’s into the bed for you. You need your rest.”

He turned toward Aunt Delia. “May I escort you downstairs, Lady Delia? My father is in the drawing room, hoping for a backgammon partner.” He leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, “He does not like to play me because I always beat him.”

“I would be delighted to beat him as well,” Aunt Delia said with a laugh. She leaned over Victoria and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Think about what I said, darling,” she whispered in her ear.

Nathan escorted her aunt across the room. Before closing the door behind them, he turned around and his gaze sought Victoria’s. A long look passed between them, and her heart pounded, wondering what he was thinking. Something flashed in his eyes, then he said softly, “Enjoy your bath.” And then he was gone.

But very much not forgotten.

W
ith the catlike grace that had served him well during his service to the Crown, Nathan let go of the windowsill of the unused room on the floor above Victoria’s bedchamber. He landed lightly on her balcony, then moving quickly into the shadows where the moonlight didn’t reach, peered through the French windows. And stilled at the sight he beheld.

Victoria reclined in the brass tub, her silhouette glazed by the golden glow of the crackling fire. Her dark, shiny hair was piled on her head in artful disarray, several long tendrils trailing along her neck and cheeks. Curls of steam
spiraled around her, glossing her cheekbones with dewy heat.

She held a book in front of her and appeared deeply engrossed in her reading, nibbling on her bottom lip. As he watched, an intriguing smile that seemed filled with secrets tilted her lips, and he found himself hoping it was thoughts of him that inspired such a look.

She slowly closed the book, setting it on the small round table that had been placed next to the bathtub to hold a pair of thick snowy towels. Then her eyes slid closed.

With an ease born of much practice, he soundlessly opened the French windows and made his way on silent feet across the room, carrying a single, long stem red rose. When he stood next to the tub, he looked down. Her head rested on the polished brass lip, exposing her elegant, damp neck. His gaze riveted on the red mark where the knife had nicked her and his jaw tightened. Forcing his attention away from the cut, he continued his perusal. Steamy water lapped at her shoulders, forming tiny pools in the delicate indents of her collarbone. Beneath the surface that shimmered gently with her breathing, full breasts topped with rosy nipples glistened. His gaze drifted over her stomach, the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, then along the line of her shapely legs. The tub was shorter than Victoria, and to compensate, she’d rested her crossed trim ankles on the other edge, leaving her calves and feet exposed to the air. Her feet were small, her instep a high curve his fingers itched to trace.

“Are you enjoying your bath, Victoria?”

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped. Water sloshed over the side of the tub as her feet slapped below the surface and she simultaneously crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you were enjoying your bath.” He held out the rose. “For you.”

Her startled gaze skipped between him and the proffered flower. Then she reached up and took the stem, bringing the bloom to her face and burying her nose in its velvety petals. Looking at him over the top of the rose, she took in his attire, then asked, “Why are you dressed all in black?”

“So as to avoid detection from anyone who might be lurking outdoors while I swung down onto your balcony.”

She looked quickly toward the French windows, then back at him. Although she still appeared stunned, there was no mistaking the flare of interest in her eyes. “You came in through the balcony? How?”

“Jumped down from the window on the floor above.”

Her eyes widened. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“Are you mad? If you’d fallen, you could have been seriously injured.”

“Dead, most likely,” he corrected with a grave nod. “How fortunate I am sure-footed.”

“Have you never heard of a
door
?”

“Too predictable, especially given that I wanted the element of surprise in my favor. Besides, I ran a far greater risk of discovery entering your bedchamber from the corridor. And what if the door had been locked? While I could have picked the lock, I risked discovery doing so. Nor did I have any wish to knock, for if I did, you might have been compelled to exit the tub and don a robe to open the door. Then I would have missed seeing you in the bath, and my darling Victoria, allow me to assure you, it is not a sight to be missed.”

Crimson to rival the rose he’d given her stained her
cheeks. “So you jumped out of a window and landed on my balcony.”

He shrugged. “It is the way of us spies. Although I admit I’m relieved I didn’t injure any pertinent body parts. I’m a bit out of practice with the maneuver, I’m afraid.”

“And you’re here to examine my scrapes?”

“Not exactly,” he said, crossing the room. When he reached the door, he turned the key in the lock. The soft click seemed to reverberate in the air. While walking slowly back to her, he rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, noting how carefully she watched him, the alertness and awareness simmering in her eyes. When he reached the tub, he lowered himself to his knees and rested his forearms on the edge. The tips of his fingers gently stirred the water.

“I would of course be delighted to check on your injuries,” he said, his gaze riveted on hers, “but in the interest of fair play, I must warn you, I am here not as a doctor but as a man. A man intent upon…” His voice trailed off and he reached out to slowly drag a single fingertip along the delicate line of her collarbone.

She looked at him with wide, luminous eyes. “Upon what?” she asked in a breathless voice. “Seduction?”

“Seduction,” he repeated slowly, savoring the word like a fine, rich claret. “Now that is a tantalizing, arousing idea. And one I will certainly ponder. Next time.”

Confusion flickered in her eyes. “Next time?”

“Yes.” He arranged his features into a mask of regret. “As delightful as seduction would be, I’m afraid
this
visit is for revenge.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he stood and smoothly whisked her towels from the small table. Then he moved to the far end of the fireplace, well out of reach,
and casually rested his shoulders against the white marble mantel.

Her gaze shifted from the empty table to the towels he held, then swept the room. Her night rail and a robe lay across the foot of the bed. The nearest thing to cover herself with were the towels he held. She looked at him and pursed her lips.

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “This is your revenge for what happened at the lake. I saw you naked and wet, so now you shall see me naked and wet.”

“’Tis only fair. And I did warn you I would seek retribution. But you seeing me naked and wet isn’t all that happened at the lake.” A slow smile curved his lips. “And I fully intend to retaliate.”

He was deeply gratified by the unmistakable flare of interest in her gaze. Without breaking their eye contact, she leaned forward, laid her folded arms along the edge of the tub and rested her chin on her stacked hands.

“What if I don’t get out of the tub?”

“You’ll eventually have to.” He smiled and crossed his ankles. “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes.”

“Hmmm. And if I refuse?”

“Then I suppose I shall be forced to climb into the tub with you.”

“Would you really do that?”

“Is that an invitation?”

Her lips twitched. “No. It’s a question. I’m weighing my options and need an answer.”

“In that case, my answer is yes, I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I see. Well, I shall need a moment to reflect upon this and plan. To decide what to do.”

“Take your time,” Nathan said with a magnanimous sweep of his hand. He bent down to set the towels on the
edge of the hearth rug and realized he’d scooped up her book along with the towels. Plucking it from the top of the pile, he read the title and raised his brows.

“Ah, the infamous
Ladies’ Guide
,” he said, straightening. He opened to a random page and read:

Looking up, he nodded approvingly. “Yes, either of those would work very nicely for me. Shall I continue?”

“If you like. I believe the next suggestion involves the lady discreetly stroking her gentleman through his breeches.”

Nathan glanced down and silently read the next two lines. “It does indeed.” He couldn’t decide if he was more intrigued or disquieted by her choice of reading material. He found the thought of her using any knowledge gained from the book on
him
highly arousing. The thought of her using it on anyone else shot white-hot jealousy through him. He closed the book and set it on the mantel, noting she regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I’m wondering how it is that you manage to set me on
fire even while you stand two dozen feet away and I’m submerged in water.”

Before he could decide which surprised him more—her reply or the smoky voice in which she delivered it—she cut off any hope of him speaking by slowly rising. Water sluiced down her body, a shimmering waterfall cast in gold by the firelight. His gaze meandered down the length of her and desire hit him low and hard.

He had to swallow twice to find his voice. “I’m not certain if ‘rise from a steaming pool like an enchanting water nymph’ was listed in your
Ladies’ Guide
as a seduction method, but if so, I commend you, as you’ve quite got the hang of it.”

“It’s not listed, but I’ll make a note in the margin.” She gracefully stepped from the tub then walked slowly toward him, her hips gently swaying, bewitching him with each step, with the half bold, half shy look gleaming in her eyes. She halted when only an arm’s length separated them. Everything in him craved to yank her against him, crush her to him with all the randy fervor of a green lad. He pulled in a slow, deep breath to calm his hammering heart, but that only served to fill his head with the delicate scent of roses.

“I thought you said it was into the bed for me,” she whispered. “That I needed to rest.”

“It is into the bed for you. But not quite yet.” His gaze moved over her with a hunger he fiercely fought to tamp down. Their eyes met, and his heart tripped at the arousal he read there. A touch of shyness, yes, but his Victoria was no coward.

His Victoria…

Dangerous, unsettling words. For she wasn’t his. Would
never be his for more than a few stolen moments. But for these stolen moments she was, so he’d worry about that later. “The proverb claims that ‘Revenge is sweet,’” he said in a rough whisper. “Let’s see if it really is.”

Clasping her hand, he led her toward the far corner of the room, stopping in front of the oval, full-length cheval glass. Standing between her and the mirror, he brushed his fingers over her smooth, flushed cheek. “I want to touch you, Victoria.” Even as he said the words, it struck him that this wild, urgent turbulence roaring through him was more than simply a “want” to touch her. It was a
need
. Beyond anything he’d ever before experienced.

He stepped around her to stand directly behind her. “I want you to see me touch you.”
So you can see how much I want you. So I can see you wanting me
.

Victoria stood perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe as she took in the sight of herself, naked, and Nathan standing behind her. The vision simultaneously shocked and aroused her. She made an unconscious move to cover herself, but he caught her hands from behind and shook his head. “No,” he whispered against her temple. “Don’t hide from me. Or yourself.”

A full-body blush engulfed her and she locked her knees to keep her balance. She’d stood naked before her bedchamber mirror on numerous occasions, studying her form, running her hands experimentally over her body, her curiosity burning. What would it feel like to be touched by a man? And not just any man.
This
man. Who had captivated her imagination from the first time she’d set eyes on him three years ago. Her heart jumped with anticipation of finally discovering the answer.

He reached up and gently pulled the pins from her hair,
letting them fall to the carpet. Her haphazard pile of curls unfurled, falling over his hands and her shoulders, rippling down her back to her waist. Lightly clasping her upper arms, he leaned forward and buried his face against her hair. “Roses,” he whispered.

Somehow she found her voice. “It’s my favorite scent.”

His gaze met hers in the mirror. “It’s now mine, as well.”

The warmth of his hands on her skin, the heat emanating from his body, enveloped her like a velvet cloak. Heart pounding, breaths coming in choppy pants, she struggled to maintain some semblance of outward calm, but her efforts proved futile. Dear God, the way he was looking at her…no man had ever looked at her like this before. She supposed because she spent all her time in polite society, and there was nothing polite about the intensely carnal desire glittering in Nathan’s eyes.

Dressed all in black, his face cast in starkly contrasting panes of shadow and light from the fire, he looked like the swashbuckling pirate she’d once imagined him—devastatingly attractive, wholly masculine, and just a bit dangerous. God help her, she couldn’t wait to see, to feel, what he planned next.

He brushed her hair aside with one hand, exposing the back of her neck, while his other hand stole around her waist and pressed her gently back, erasing whatever space had remained between them. His body touched hers, from shoulder to knee, the hard ridge of his erection nudging against her buttocks. Heat emanated from him, infusing her with a flood of warmth. Bending his head, he kissed the back of her neck.

She watched, transfixed, as his fingertips settled on her neck then slowly dragged downward, dipping into the
shallow hollow at the base of her throat, which quivered in betrayal of her rapid pulse. He’d barely begun and already she was lost.

Settling his palms on her shoulders, he skimmed his hands down to hers and entwined their fingers. Then he lifted her hands up and back, around his neck. “Hold on,” he said, his voice rough velvet. She did as he bid, clasping her fingers together at his nape, grateful for something to hold on to.

He settled his warm lips against her temple, then slowly trailed his fingers down her upraised arms. A thousand pleasurable tingles shot over her skin, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, watching his clever, long-fingered hands, so dark against her much paler skin, embark upon an agonizingly slow exploration, as if he meant to memorize every pore, every freckle, building an unbearable need in her.