Patricia Rice (21 page)

He made it so very easy to agree. She didn't have to do anything but let his hands and lips work their magic. She didn't have to worry about whether she ought to wear a nightgown or not, whether she ought to climb in bed first or wait for him to take her, whether to touch him or just allow him to do as he willed until he was done. She didn't have to worry about whether she was doing the right thing, if he would find her displeasing, if he would blame her if he couldn't find his release. None of that mattered. All she had to do was fold her arms around his shoulders and glide off into a hazy world of his creation.

Eavin allowed Nicholas to carry her from the suite's parlor to the bedroom. The heat of his powerful arm circling her thighs set off alarming sensations. He lowered her to the turned-back sheets, and she gazed up into the canopy that must have been the last thing Francine had seen before she died. But the knowledge that Nicholas stood beside the bed, ripping off his shirt, distracted her from that morbid thought. She couldn't help avidly staring as the shirt fell away to reveal the man beneath.

The candle in the other room offered only enough light to silhouette the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist and hips, but Eavin clearly remembered the ridges of muscle and the light golden hairs forming a V from chest to navel. Her breath stopped in her lungs as he reached for the fastenings of his trousers.

Nicholas sensed instantly when Eavin averted her face, and he stopped what he was doing to fall down on the bed beside her, cupping her chin and turning her face back to him so he could smother it with kisses. The warmth and softness of her curved so perfectly into his arms that he had difficulty remembering that the feeling might not be mutual.

Cursing the distraction of having to remove their various articles of clothing, Nicholas waited until Eavin's excitement built again before sitting up and stating calmly, "I want to see you with your clothes off."

He saw the panic in her eyes, but with a gleam of mischief, he reached for her foot instead of her chemise.

Eavin scrambled to sit up and help him unlace the ribbons of her soft shoes, but Nicholas wouldn't let her touch her stockings. Gently he rolled them down one at a time, his hands circling her legs and sliding downward while he watched her face. He wasn't even looking at her legs but at her expression as he caressed her limbs. When he cradled her foot in his palm, she nearly melted with the desire to have that hand do the same thing to the rest of her.

Then his palms were no longer safely on her foot but riding higher, stroking, caressing, learning, and possessing every inch of her skin as they moved inexorably upward. Eavin kept her gaze fixed on his and didn't stop him.

"Take the chemise off, Eavin," Nicholas murmured, tugging the last remaining piece of fabric upward.

As if caught in a spell, Eavin did as told, lifting her hips with his aid until the garment slid over her shoulders and head and floated to the floor.

The light was too dim for him to discern much, and Eavin didn't feel the fear she had expected when Nicholas finally cupped her bare breast. The sensation was gentle, loving, and not at all the hasty grabs and tugs she had experienced before. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she went into his embrace with an eagerness that surprised her.

"You were made to be loved like this," Nicholas whispered as he laid her back against the pillows.

He continued his gentle explorations, circling, caressing, pressing into her until Eavin could scarcely heed his words. Breathlessly she met his kisses until the moment his fingers eased the ache of her nipple and her cry of relief was swallowed by his mouth.

From that point there was no return. Eavin clung to Nicholas's shoulders as he bent to suckle her breasts, arousing her to a peak of quivering desire. She was scarcely aware when he unfastened his trousers and threw off the rest of his clothing. She held out her arms and welcomed his weight as he settled down beside her, his big legs covering hers and holding her still while his hands worked their incredible magic.

In the back of her mind Eavin knew what was going to happen. She recognized the press of his hard maleness against her thighs. But the ecstasy of Nicholas's kisses carried her away on a tide of sensation, until she had no knowledge of what was happening to her lower body.

The flood of heat and pleasure spread downward until she was liquid and willing when he touched her between her legs, but still she clenched her eyes and tensed when he moved over her. He halted what he was doing and whispered kisses over her lips again.

"Don't, Eavin. I won't hurt you. If there's any pain, just let me know and I'll stop. I promise. I just want to touch you there, if you'll let me."

His fingers stroked knowingly again, spreading her gently until she relaxed her knees and let him do as he willed. The pressure built until she arched her hips to meet his finger when it entered her. His caresses made her frantic, and this time when Nicholas moved over her and pressed her knees aside, Eavin surrendered.

Chapter 18

Eavin's shocked cries of pleasure brought Nicholas to the edge of release. He tried to hold back, but when she arched to meet him and caught his hips with soft hands to hold him in place, he exploded with repressed desire.

His shout nearly drowned Eavin's cry of surprise. Nicholas pressed his mouth gratefully to hers and tasted the saltiness of tears and kissed her into senselessness.

When they came back to their senses, it could have been minutes or hours later. They were still joined, but Nicholas had rolled his greater weight to the side, allowing the night breeze from the window to cool them. When the woman in his arms shivered, he reluctantly pulled a sheet over her. For himself, he could have steamed an arctic abode.

"Thank you," she murmured against his skin, and Nicholas stroked the curve of her upper arm, wondering how many times he had seen her lift Jeannette with these slender limbs without knowing the power to enthrall that they possessed.

He chose to accept her thank-you as more than gratitude for the cover of the sheet. Pressing a kiss to her brow, he answered, "Have I proved my theory?"

Eavin didn't want to think about it. She wanted to run her hands over the hair-roughened skin of his chest and arms. She wanted to press her breasts into his heat until he kissed her again. She wanted to kiss him until he took her all over, until her body finally had its fill of the sustenance it had craved for all these years. She moved her hips closer to his, finding that he was as ready as she.

"I'm not certain. Would you like to try again?" Boldly she reached upward to kiss his lips and shuddered in excitement when Nicholas pulled her closer rather than rejecting her advances.

The question was a foolish one. His body hadn't forgotten its place, and he was there again before she could renege on her offer.

This time Nicholas took her with all the lust he had held back the first time, driving hard and fast until Eavin was screaming his name and writhing with the waves of pleasure and pain he produced. But whatever Nicholas did to her, she regained in satisfaction when she brought him to the same pinnacle of ecstasy that he had brought to her. Her body instinctively tightened to hold him as he lunged and shook and cried out his agony against her hair.

And it was agony that brought them together and held them as they drifted into sleep. It had been agony that had brought Eavin to this place, and agony of a different sort that had allowed Nicholas to keep her. It was a different kind of pain now, muted by time and distance, but still there, ready to awaken when they did.

Eavin woke to it first. Overhead, she heard Jeannette's waking babbles as dawn reddened the sky. Beside her, she felt the heat of a man not her husband as he slept, his arm curled possessively around her waist. And her heart sank to new lows as she imagined creeping from this bed, finding her clothing, and sneaking up the stairs to her room to wash before Annie came to feed the babe.

She had done a sinful thing, and she would pay for it sooner or later, but when she turned to see Nicholas's peaceful, sleeping face, she couldn't regret it just yet.

When Eavin tried to rise, Nicholas's arm tightened at her waist and drew her closer. She struggled against him, whispering his name to wake him to their predicament. His eyes opened, and she could see they were an unholy gold in the morning light. They would have been frightening had she not known what she was doing to the rest of him with her struggles. She stopped wiggling and pressed knowingly against him.

"Not again, sir. Dawn is breaking and night is done. And your daughter will rouse the household at any moment."

Nicholas cursed beneath his breath and leaned over to nibble at his captive's throat. His beard scraped her delicate skin and Eavin laughed low in her throat as he rubbed it against her, but she pushed him away when he would follow his instincts to the swelling curve of her breast.

"Damn! If I had known being a father entailed giving up my pleasures, I would never have got into this mess."

"Your pleasures eventually entail being a father in the normal run of things, might I remind you," Eavin informed him primly, struggling to remove herself from the temptation of his arms.

Before Nicholas could draw her back, an explosion of noise erupted in the hall outside.

"Saint-Just, where in the bejesus are you? There's a boat load of cutthroats comin' up the river path!"

"
Sacrebleu
!" Muttering curses in French, Nicholas leapt from the bed and grabbed trousers from the floor, tugging them on as he headed for the door.
 

Michael wasn't supposed to be back from New Orleans so soon. That was enough of a problem without considering what his warning meant.

Holding the sheet to her breasts, Eavin watched Nicholas in amazement. Unclothed, he was even more magnificent to than when fully garbed in fashion's finest. The dark gold of the hair on his chest and legs glimmered in the morning light, and she couldn't help but stare in disappointment as he covered first one, then the other as he pulled on the trousers and then the shirt he had worn last night. But his haste was sufficient to keep fear uppermost in her mind. Nicholas was never hasty.

She didn't dare halt him with questions but watched as he left the room with an expression of fury. She was quite certain that the band of cutthroats, whoever they might be, were about to meet their maker. Nicholas looked fully capable of strangling them with his bare hands.

But she had not survived this long by placing reliance on others. As soon as he was gone, Eavin hurriedly dressed and prayed no one, particularly Michael, would be about as she made her way to her room wearing an evening gown.

Eavin could hear the clamor of voices outside as the terrified servants congregated between their quarters and the house. Nicholas's roar drowned them out, and somehow reassured, she darted from the bedroom into the hallway and up the stairs without seeing another soul.

She had to change her clothes before she went to the nursery. By the time she had made a hasty toilet, Annie was placing Jeannette in the crib and buttoning her blouse. The black woman turned a frightened glance her way, and Eavin tried to exude a calm she didn't feel.

"Master Nick is taking care of it. Why don't you stay here with Jeannette while I go down to the kitchen and see what's happening? I'll have someone bring something up for you."

The maid glanced toward the window and the lessening sound of voices, then rolled her eyes in agreement. The top floor of the big house seemed much safer than the old kitchen building out back.

Aware that she had not washed properly, feeling the aches left by unaccustomed lovemaking and the rubbing of her clothes against the irritated skin of her breasts, Eavin felt wholly uncomfortable in appearing in public. She feared her sin must be written across her forehead for all to see, but when she arrived in the yard, no one looked at her until she demanded answers.

Excited voices broke out all at once, giving Eavin time to note that Michael was not among them, nor were most of the field hands. It was possible the men were still in the fields, but it had very definitely been Michael carrying the warning. She glanced anxiously in the direction that the women pointed, but could see nothing other than the spreading oaks and muddy yard.

Deciding if there were a bloody battle being held on the other side of the trees, she would hear of it, Eavin gave orders for the women to return to the kitchen and the preparation of breakfast. Whatever the men were doing, it would involve healthy appetites afterward. She had learned that much at her mother's knee.

* * *

"What kind of bloody fool expedition is this?" Not having bothered to call for his horse, Nicholas stood at the forefront of his small army, sword in one hand, rifle in the other, contemplating the scene before him.

Arms and legs akimbo, Jean Lafitte grinned at his obvious surprise. Behind him were the recognizable features of his cut-nose lieutenant and the eccentrically garbed and powerfully built bodies of several of his pirates. Although heavily armed, they brandished no weapons but laconically observed the ragtag army of field hands with hoes and shovels standing behind their master.

"I have need of word with you, but your so charming
maman
would not oblige me by sending for you. It is a pleasant day, so I thought to visit you myself."