Thunder and Roses (28 page)

Lord Strathmore said, “You’re Welsh, Miss Morgan?”

“And here I thought my English was flawless.”

“A touch of Welsh accent adds music to a voice.” His smile proved he
rivaled
Nicholas in charm as well as looks.

Nicholas said, “Clare, do you mind if we finish the game later?”

She smiled. “I’ll concede—I’ve no chance of winning.”

“In that case …” Nicholas handed the cue to his friend. “Think you can pot the last two balls?”

Lucien bent over the table and stroked. The cue ball whizzed about the table, knocking first one, then the other, of the object balls into pockets. “I, too, had a misspent youth.”

After the laughter died down, Clare said, “I’ll retire for the night. I’m sure you two have much to talk about.”

Nicholas draped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t go yet. I want to ask Lucien about Michael Kenyon, and the answer to that concerns you as much as me.”
                 
       

Lord Strathmore frowned, but said nothing until the three of them were settled in the library, the two men drinking brandy while Clare sipped on a very small sherry. She and Nicholas sat in adjacent wing chairs while Strathmore lounged on a sofa opposite. The room was lit mostly by the coal fire, which created a warm, peaceful glow.

After briefly describing the situation at the Penreith mine, Nicholas said, “Michael seems to have completely abandoned the business, which doesn’t seem like him. Do you know where he is now? I’ve had no contact with him since I left England, but I’d like to see him soon if possible.”

Lucien raised his brows. “You didn’t know that he went back into the army?”

“Good God, I had no idea. When he sold out, he swore that he’d had enough of soldiering to last him the rest of his life.”

“No doubt he meant it at the time, but he bought another commission not long after you left the country.”

Nicholas frowned, and Clare saw concern in his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me that the silly beggar has gone and gotten himself killed, are you?”

“Don’t worry, Michael is indestructible. He spent most of the last four years fighting the French on the Peninsula. He’s a major now, and something of a hero.”

Nicholas smiled. “That sounds like him. Better to unleash that ferocious temper on the enemy rather than on his friends.”

Lucien looked down into his glass and swirled the brandy around. “Speaking of his temper, did you and Michael lose touch because you’d had some kind of quarrel?”

“No. Actually, I hardly saw him for some months before I left the country, even though he was in Penreith for much of that time. He was very involved with plans and improvements for the mine, which is why it’s so surprising that he has neglected it since.” Absently Nicholas reached over and covered Clare’s hand. “Where is he now—with the army in France?”

“No, you’re in luck. He came down with fever in winter camp and was shipped home at Wellington’s personal order. He’s in London now, pretty well recovered from his illness, though he’s still on sick leave.” Lucien fell silent and regarded his brandy glass broodingly.

“You’ve seen him then, and you’re concerned about him,” Nicholas guessed. “What’s wrong?”

“Too much war, I imagine,” Lucien said slowly. “I met him in the park riding one morning. He’s lean as a wolf, and I felt wildness just under the surface. Or perhaps it’s desperation. The country may have benefited by his army service, but I don’t think he has.”

“Is he staying at Ashburton House? I want to call on him.”

“No, he’s taken rooms, but I don’t know where.” Lucien smiled wryly. “Though he seemed pleased to see me, he wasn’t volunteering any information. Reminded me of a fox that’s gone to earth. Though he’s been in London for several months, he hasn’t made much attempt to see his old friends.”

“You can find where he’s staying—you always know everything about everyone.”

“But I very seldom tell all I know.” Lucien glanced up, his eyes glowing golden in the firelight. “It might be better if you don’t try to see him. When Michael and I were talking, your name came up and—well, I won’t say that he literally bared his teeth like a wolf, but that’s the impression I got.”

Nicholas’s fingers tightened on Clare’s. “It’s a nuisance if he’s having a tantrum,, but I need to talk to him about the Penreith mine. If he doesn’t want to run it properly, he can sell the lease back to me, but that is my land and those are my people, and I will not permit the present situation to continue.”

Clare glanced at him, surprised at his intensity. It sounded very much as if Nicholas had made her cause his own, in spite of his threat to walk away if she left him.

“You’re as stubborn as Michael is,” Lucien said with a trace of exasperation. “If there are going to be fireworks, meeting in a public place is probably a good idea. Rafe is having a ball next week, and Michael said he’d be attending. Of course you’ll be invited as soon as Rafe knows you’ve returned.”

“Perfect.” Nicholas relaxed and smiled at Clare. “Rafe’s balls are famous. You’ll find it interesting.”

Lucien frowned. “I’m not sure that it is the sort of event you should take Miss Morgan to.”

“No?” Nicholas’s glance was challenging. “The highest sticklers might not approve of Rafe’s entertainments, but he would never permit real vulgarity. I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“It’s still no place for a respectable unmarried female.”

“But I am not respectable,” Clare said smoothly as she got to her feet. “Nicholas can tell you about it if you’re curious. I’m very glad to have met you, Lord Strathmore. Nicholas, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He also rose. “I’ll be back in a moment, Luce.”

“He escorted her into the hall and closed the door to the library behind him. “Did you think you’d be able to escape without surrendering your kiss for the day?”

She chuckled. “I was hoping you wouldn’t forget.” She stepped into his arms and turned her face up.

As always, his kiss was intoxicating, stirring pulses throughout her body. One of his hands wandered down to cup her buttock, pressing her tightly against him. She almost broke away. Then a mischievous demon pointed out that Nicholas would have to return to his friend soon, so it was safe to tease him in a way that she wouldn’t dare otherwise.

Delicately she nipped his lower lip with her teeth. He gasped and his hands began working convulsively, kneading her body as if he was trying to absorb her into himself. Amazed at her own boldness, she slid her hand down between them until it came to rest on that fascinating, alarming ridge of male flesh. He hardened instantly, his whole body going taut. “Luce can go home while we continue this upstairs,” he gasped.

A little flustered by the intensity of his reaction, she broke away from his embrace. “Mustn’t be rude to a friend you haven’t seen in years,” she said breathlessly.

As she started up the stairs, he caught her hand and turned her toward him. In a soft, mesmerizing voice, he asked, “Shall I join you later tonight and show you what comes next?”

She felt a shiver that was part fear, part excitement. She was teasing a tiger, and if she wasn’t careful, the tiger would make a meal of her. Disengaging her hand, she said lightly, “After such a tiring day, I need a full night’s sleep.”

“Soon you’ll say yes.” His black eyes bored into hers, demanding and promising. “I swear it.”

“Don’t count on that, Nicholas. Remember, your object is to seduce me, and mine is to drive you to distraction.”

He gave a crack of laughter. “You’re a minx, Clare. But this is one contest I aim to win.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “Prepare yourself for failure, my lord.” Then she whisked upstairs, exhilaration sizzling in her veins.

Her animation lasted until she entered her room. After locking the door, she leaned against it as her gaze traveled over the sumptuous bedchamber. Gilded cherubs cavorted on the ceiling, gold velvet hangings swathed the magnificently carved bed, and her feet rested on a Chinese carpet that probably cost more money than she would earn in her entire life.

She felt a wave of disorientation. Merciful heaven, what was plain, sensible Clare Morgan of Penreith doing in such a place?

Good intentions had led her to Nicholas in the first place, but it was unholy anger that had made her agree to his devil’s bargain. Ever since then, the two of them had been circling each other in an elaborate dance, advancing and separating while drawing ever closer. At the center of the circle lay ruin, both spiritual and social. Yet still she danced, for she had never felt so alive in her life. If all sin was so sweet, so exciting, no wonder mankind was a race of sinners.

For an instant, she imagined her father standing before her, regarding her with a grave disappointment that hurt more than anger would have. She knew she wasn’t living up to his standards. She had never been able to, and since meeting Nicholas she had been awash in pride, anger, and lust.

Desolation engulfed her, and a great and terrible despair. For the first time since leaving Penreith, she knelt and attempted to pray. Our Father, who art in heaven …

An ethereal father in heaven was no help, not when set against the warm, solid reality of Nicholas.

He wanted her. Though his desire might be fleeting, as much the urge to win a game as to indulge his lust, it was real and powerfully compelling. No one had ever wanted her so intensely.

It meant so much to be wanted.

It would be easier to resist Nicholas if he were evil, but he was no more a devil than he was a saint. She suspected that he was best described by the words pagan and amoral. But he was kind to her, and sometimes she sensed in him a loneliness as great as her own. She was learning that loneliness was even more compelling than desire ….

She tried to force her mind back to the prayer, but she broke again at Lead us not into temptation …

It was too late, for temptation surrounded her. She suspected that the major reason she hadn’t succumbed to it was because of her competitive desire to beat Nicholas at his own game. If she were being honest, she would have to admit that virtue had very little to do with her resistance.

If she managed to preserve her virginity, she would be able to go back to Penreith and face down the gossip, for her conscience would be clear. But what would become of her if she surrendered? She could not imagine returning to her old life if she was a ruined woman. Yet there could be no future for her with Nicholas, who wanted to bed her mostly to prove that he could. Marriage was out of the question, and she could never live as his mistress even if he continued to want her.

Abandoning the Lord’s Prayer, she sent up a silent cry from the heart. Dear God, help me find the strength to break away from this dangerous dance before I destroy myself.

She repeated the words again and again in the most desperate prayer of her life. But though she held herself silent and listened, there was no sign that anyone had heard. She felt no presence, no inner certainty of what path she should follow. She was alone, without guidance. The only reality was the seductive dance, which
spiraled
down into darkness, danger, and desire.

As she wept into her hands, she felt more alone than ever before in her life.

 
As Nicholas
reentered
the library, Lucien was adding brandy to both their glasses. “Miss Morgan says that she is not respectable, and that you could tell me about it if I am curious.” He took a small sip of spirits. “Which I am, very.”

In a few succinct sentences, Nicholas outlined the bargain he and Clare had made: her presence in return for his influence in improving the lot of the residents of Penreith.

Though he deliberately gave no details, when he finished Lucien muttered an oath under his breath. “Bloody hell, Nicholas, what devil has gotten into you? You’ve had your share of wild escapades, but I’ve never known you to ruin an innocent.”