Virginia Henley (46 page)

Charlie returned with a needle and a spool of black thread. She set them down on the bedside table and went to pour Nick a double measure of brandy. “Drink this; it will help.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “It won’t really. It might take the edge off the pain, but I’ve lost blood and should be drinking water. My mouth’s as dry as the desert.”

Nick downed the brandy anyway, while Alex threaded the needle, and Charlie brought a jug of water from her dressing room. “The officer is searching other establishments along Pall Mall, so I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually see you enter my place.”

“Hold still, Nicholas. This will take a little time, and the ordeal won’t be pleasant,” Alex warned as she knelt on the bed behind him.

“Ordeals seldom are, my love,” he replied solemnly.

“You two know each other rather well,” Charlie observed.

“Since we were children,” Nick acknowledged.

“He still thinks I’m a child,” Alex accused, as she set the first stitch and agonized over the pain she was causing him.

“The evidence of my own eyes proves beyond a shadow of doubt that you are a woman, Alex, though unfortunately not a lady.”

“And the evidence of my eyes proves beyond a shadow of doubt that you are a man, Nick, though no longer a gentleman.”

“Not any more, my sweet, I promise you.”

Charlie watched Alex make the last stitch then tie off the thread. “I’ve ordered you your usual bath. It’s become such a ritual, the maid puts the water on to heat as soon as she sees you come through the front door,” Charlie said dryly. “Let me take these bloody sheets from the bed. You’ll find clean ones in the dressing room,” she told Alex. “Nick, I have a business to run, so I shall leave you in the capable hands of your lady love.”

“I am not his lady love,” Alex protested, as Charlie carried out the bundled sheets and closed the door.

“You are, you know.”

The deep voice behind her sent a shiver down Alexandra’s spine.

Nicholas sat in Charlie’s hand-painted slipper bath while Alex stood behind him and gently washed his blood-soaked hair. His admonition that she was his
lady love
had thrilled her to her very core, but at that moment the servants had brought in the hot water for his bath and it had given her time to realize that it was probably the brandy talking. Alex concentrated on cleansing the back of his head, making sure that the wound was no longer seeping blood. “It looks good, Nick . . . the bleeding has stopped. Here”—she handed him the jug of water—“finish drinking this, so I can use it to rinse you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He reached behind his head to take her hand and squeeze it. “This is like the fantasies I had about you while I was in France, except we were bathing
together
.”

Alexandra flushed a rosy pink. “You’ve had too much brandy.”

“No, love, I’m wondrously sober.”

She wanted to believe him. Desperately.
I shall believe him, just for tonight; how can it possibly hurt?
She took the empty jug from his hands, smiled into his eyes, and began to pour water over him to rinse off the soap. His muscles glistened wetly as the water cascaded down his broad back and over the tight black curls that adorned his chest.
His body is so magnificent, so powerful. It makes me weak with longing
. She set down the jug and reached out to run her fingertips along his collarbone. Suddenly, his cock stood up straight and poked its velvet crown above the water. “Oh!” she gasped then lowered her lashes. How could he become aroused when he was wounded? “Has your pain lessened a little?”

“The only head I am aware of at this moment is the one between my legs, and it aches like the very devil,” he admitted ruefully.

She suddenly longed to cradle it in her hand to ease the ache. She reached out, then quickly drew back her hand, shocked at her own wanton behavior.

At just the thought of her touching his cock, Nick almost came out of his skin. His mouth curved with anticipation, knowing that she wanted to touch him; all he had to do was overcome her shyness. The blush on her cheeks made his heart sing with joy. Alexandra, in spite of her thirst for worldly knowledge, was still unbelievably innocent, and he savored the thought of her awakening.

In a concerned voice she instructed, “Don’t try to get out of the water by yourself. I’ll get a towel and be right back.”

When she stood up in her skimpy shift, dampened from the bath water, Nick’s erection bucked wildly. He wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. A sharp bark of laughter erupted from his throat. Was he not the Spawn of Satan, headed directly to hell?

Alex emerged from the dressing room carrying a set of clean black satin sheets and two thirsty towels. She remade the bed before returning to the tub. She shook out a towel and admonished, “Lean on me. I don’t want you to fall.”

Nick stood up, but as the water ran off the bulging saddle muscles of his thighs, he made no move toward her. “I’ve never leaned on anyone in my life; I’m not about to start now. However, I
fell
long ago, I’m afraid, and what’s done cannot be undone.”

Can he possibly mean that he fell in love with me long ago?
A frisson of pleasure made her breasts tingle then spiraled down into her belly and ended between her legs in a sensation very like the burst of exploding fireworks. She watched him step from the tub, pluck the towel from her fingers, and proceed to vigorously rub himself. Her mouth went dry at being privy to such a flagrant, provocative display of male nudity.
If he rubs his head with such vigor, he’ll open up the wound!
“I’ll dry your hair, Nick.” Alex suddenly realized she wasn’t tall enough in her bare feet. She spied a footstool and ran to fetch it.

When she bent over, her short shift went up to reveal the cheeks of her gloriously round bottom. “Alex, I swear to God you are purposely teasing and tempting me . . . you are a born
coquette
!”

She straightened quickly. “ ’Tis you who are purposely teasing me, you devil, just to keep me covered with blushes.”

“Blushes are the only thing I want you covered with, my love.”

She set the stool down behind him and picked up the second towel. Then she used his shoulders to help her step up onto the stool. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked anxiously.

“Almost brought me to my knees, and no doubt will before you are done with me, Hellion.”

“Do try to be serious for a moment,” she reproved. “Now, hold absolutely still while I dry the back of your head.” She dabbed his wound with gentle fingers, then held the towel still while it absorbed the water from his curling black hair. Finally she pronounced, “There, you are almost good as new.”

Nicholas turned to face her, plucked the towel from her fingers, and dropped it to the floor. Then with purposeful hands he lifted her damp shift over her head and dropped it after the towel. He cupped her face, gazed worshipfully into her eyes, dropped a hungry glance on her mouth, raised his eyes once more to hers, then drew her close for a tender kiss. “Alex, I worship you.”

His hands and his lips were so gentle, so reverent, it brought a lump to her throat. Slowly, his mouth became more demanding, and his hands dropped from her face and slid around her body, bringing her soft curves close against his hard length. His marble-hard shaft lay rigid between them, and he heard her draw in a swift breath as if he were hurting her. “This will be far more comfortable; trust me.” He slipped his erect cock between her legs, so that it lay along her hot cleft. Even with the stool beneath her feet, she had to rise up on her toes to facilitate their intimate position. Nick groaned. “I like you on a pedestal, my love. I swear I’ll never be able to look at a footstool again without thinking of you.”

Alex tasted the brandy on his lips, but it didn’t matter; the kiss made her breathless with longing. Each time her nipples brushed against the curly hair of his chest, she wanted to scream with excitement. His powerful, possessive hands stroked down her back and caressed her bum, drugging her senses. The words he murmured into her ear in his deep voice were becoming husky with desire, and the lids over his smoldering gray eyes were half closed and heavy with sensuality.

Her reaction to Nicholas was cataclysmic, and she knew it had nothing to do with the highly erotic setting of the brothel, with danger hovering close by. She had day-dreamed about the dark, dominant twin for more than five years, perhaps even longer. The reality of this romantic encounter was overwhelming, a thousand times more intensely compelling than any girlish fantasy. His touch stole her senses; he was far more potent than any intoxicant. The heat of his body seeped into her flesh, setting her aflame with a raging desire that threatened to burn out of control and consume her. She was panting with need, and her breasts rose and fell against his powerful, muscled chest. Her hands alternately caressed then gripped his shoulders to prevent her body from dissolving into a pool at his feet. His eyes were now the color of smoke, and she prayed his yearning was as intense as hers.

Nick’s senses were saturated with the feel of her silken skin, the scent of her red-gold curls, and the taste of her honeyed mouth. “Lord God, how you make me quiver.”

Alex came out of her trance, immediately contrite. “Oh, it’s not me . . . it’s because you have lost so much blood! You should be abed, Nicholas.” Her eyes searched his face for any sign of an imminent collapse.

He gazed back at her and said solemnly, “Perhaps I will take advantage of the bed, since we must stay put until after midnight.”

She arched her bum away from him, and his erection immediately slid up her belly and touched her navel, sending a delicious shiver up through her breasts.

“Sweetheart, I wanted to carry you,” he protested.

She touched his lips with hers. “When you are recovered, you may carry me about all night and all day, if you desire.”

“I desire.” The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her lips, as if he could not bear even the briefest separation, then he took possession of her hand and helped her down from her pedestal. As he moved toward the big curtained bed, she felt shy and hung back, but handclasped as they were, he compelled her to follow. He drew the curtains closed, then stretched out on the black satin sheets and gently pulled her down to lie on top of him in the dominant position. After one lingering kiss, he murmured, “Sit up, so I can look at you.” And look he did. As she rose to her knees beside him, his eyes missed no finest detail as they worshipped her body, as if they were making intimate love to her.

Alex gazed down at the magnificent male who lay beneath her. Against the black satin, his dark beauty, more tempting than sin, aroused a wild passion she had never before experienced. Midnight-black lashes fringed pools of gray so deep and inviting she would willingly drown in them. Everything about him was virile, hard, and overtly male, making her feel delicately soft and feminine.

He slid his knowing fingers around her wrists and exulted in the rapid pulsebeat he found there. “Touch me,” he invited.

With his fingers still encircling her wrist, she reached out to stroke the slabs of muscle on his impossibly wide chest. The slight pressure of his fingers drew her hand lower to caress his taut belly and dip into his navel. The swift intake of his breath told her that her touch thrilled him. He drew her hand to his marble-hard shaft, and when she ran her fingertip from its velvet head down along its length, her eyes widened as he became engorged and his size increased. “Now, you take my wrist, and guide me to touch you.”

She slid her fingers around his thick wrist and lifted his hand to touch her lips. Then shyly she lowered it so that his fingers caressed her heart. “Can you feel how wildly my heart is beating?” Her flesh leaped wherever his hand touched, and breathlessly she drew it up so that he could cup her breast. A sigh of enchantment dropped from her lips as he weighed it in his palm then circled her taut nipple with his fingertip. Feeling more bold, she drew his hand to her other breast and received her reward. With great daring, she moved his hand to her belly and shuddered when he drew a circle around her navel then delved inside. She held his wrist tightly, not daring to lower his hand, yet wanting him, needing him, longing for him to touch her mons. Finally, she simply withdrew her fingers from his wrist and allowed him to wander wherever he wished.

Nicholas threaded his fingers through the red-gold curls on her high mons. “Have you the least notion how many times I’ve done this before in my dreams? I want you to straddle me, love.”

Alex could not bring herself to open her thighs wide enough to span his hips, narrow though they were compared to his chest. Instead, she straddled one muscled thigh. As she did so, she felt his heavy sac brush against her knee. His quick groan made her think she had hurt him. “Are you all right?”

“No, my love, I am in an agony of need, but I beg you to leave your knee exactly where it is. Now, lean back a little.”

She did as he asked and saw that it thrust forward her pubic curls most impudently. She watched in delicious fascination as he reached out once more to play among the red-gold tendrils and toy with the tiny bud at the tip of her cleft. “Nicholas!” she breathed as a small spring coiled tightly within the folds of her woman’s center.

Crying out his name encouraged him to slip a long finger into her hot sheath and delicately stroke her tight honeyed walls. She wanted to protest, but the sensations his finger aroused made her crave more, not less. She began to pant, then writhe, needing more, much more. “Nicholas . . . no!”

He immediately withdrew his finger and cupped her entire mons with his palm. He squeezed firmly to ease the ache he had caused, then held out his arms to her. “Come to me, love.”

She went down to him, and he enfolded her in strong, powerful arms that Alexandra knew would keep her safe forever. She offered up her lips, and his mouth claimed hers in a possessive kiss that left no doubt just how much he wanted her. One hand stroked down her back, while the other cupped a delicate breast, and his arousal pressed into her belly like a hot branding iron. “Nick . . . please!”