Wicked Promise (26 page)

Her chest ached. The lump in her throat grew more fierce. "Listen to me, David. I care for you a great deal. You have become a dear, dear friend and I shall never forget the courage you have shown in coming here today. But the truth is, my lord—I'm in love with another man."

For a moment he said nothing, just sat there looking grim. When he started to protest, Elizabeth shook her head. "This isn't an infatuation, if that is what you are going to say. It isn't something that will go away. I love him deeply and forever. I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

Tricklewood resumed his silence. With a sigh, he came to his feet. "Then marry him, Elizabeth, and soon. Bascomb is an unscrupulous bastard. It is obvious he will stop at nothing to have you. There ought to be some way to stop him, but in truth there is little the authorities can do. With the power of his shipping concerns, he is nearly an unstoppable force, and you have no proof of his crimes, or his intentions. Marry this man you love, Elizabeth—and pray he is strong enough to deal with Oliver Hampton."

Marry this man you love
. If only she could. Her chest squeezed and a sharp ache rose beneath her breastbone. "Thank you, my lord, for your friendship—and your concern."

"Be careful, Elizabeth. God only knows what that bastard will do."

"I will, David, I promise." She took his arm and guided him out of the drawing room to the front door. When they reached it, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Take care of yourself, my lord."

He nodded. His battered face looked suddenly forlorn. "And you, Miss Woolcot. If for some reason you should ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

She watched him walk away, her heart an icy lump in her chest. If Bascomb was dangerous before, he was doubly so now. His obsession seemed to be growing. Until he knew that she was Nicholas's mistress—until he no longer wanted her for his wife—she would never be safe.

The thought made her even more depressed. Bascomb would have to know, and once he did, so would everyone else. She would be shunned as a woman of low virtue, no longer welcome in polite society.

Her shoulders sagged as she returned to the drawing room and sat down beside Maggie to a cold cup of tea.
I will simply have to deal with it
, she thought,
as women have done for thousands of years
. She was strong enough and Nicholas was worth whatever she might have to endure.

The notion should have been a comfort. She discovered that it was not.

Nick took a sip of the Madeira Elizabeth had poured into his goblet and watched as she picked at the food on her plate but didn't really eat it. He had been there over an hour, had arrived a little early so that they might share a late supper. He'd noticed that something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door, but so far she had not told him what it was.

He had tried to be patient, had allowed them both to enjoy the delicious meal of venison roasted with gooseberries that her cook had prepared, but still she said nothing. She had evaded each of his efforts to draw her out and his patience was wearing thin.

He tossed his napkin down on the table. "All right, Elizabeth, let's have it. Something is obviously bothering you. I hoped you would tell me on your own. Since you have not done so, I am asking you now what it is."

The spoonful of dessert she had taken paused halfway to her lips. She rested the spoon back down on her plate and smoothed the skirt of her blue silk wrapper. "I do not believe I like the fact that you can read me so easily."

His mouth curved thinly. "And I do not like the fact that you are keeping something from me. Now . . . tell me what it is."

She wet those pretty pink lips and Nick felt a tug at his groin. Across the way, the bed had been turned back and a dozen times throughout the meal, he had imagined what he would do to her once they had finished.

"David Endicott came to see me today."

A thread of jealousy filtered through him. "Tricklewood? 1 thought you had persuaded him you wished merely to be friends."

"I tried to persuade him. He is rather a persistent fellow."

"I'm sure he is."

"Yes, well, actually, David is no longer a problem. Neither is Sir Robert Tinsely. Apparently Lord Bascomb has dissuaded them for me."

Nick sat up straighter in his chair. "Bascomb? What the devil does Bascomb have to do with you and Tricklewood?"

Elizabeth told him about the men who had waylaid Tricklewood's carriage, about the beatings the two men had received—and the warning Lord Bascomb had delivered.

"I knew you would want to know, but I... I was worried about what you might do once you did."

Nick came out of his chair. Leaning his hands on the table, he loomed above her. "You had better be concerned, my lovely Elizabeth, for what I shall do if you continue to ignore my dictates is resume the role of your guardian—and put you over my knee!"

Elizabeth lifted her chin, tilting her head back to look up at him. "I no longer play the part of your ward, Lord Raven- worth. In case you have forgotten, I am currently your mistress. As long as you wish me to continue in that vein, you will save your threats for someone else."

A muscle ticked in his cheek. "Dammit, I am trying to protect you!"

"As I am trying to protect
you
, my lord!"

He hadn't thought of it quite that way. He took a steadying breath, some of his anger draining away. She was worried about him. It felt good to know she cared so much. "Bascomb has to be stopped—one way or another. I'm going to call him out."

Elizabeth jumped up so fast her chair toppled over on the carpet. "Are you insane? Even if you killed him, you are the one who would suffer. After what happened to his brother, there isn't a court in the land that wouldn't hang you for murder, no matter the reason you had for shooting him."

Nick sighed. She was right of course, but it didn't change the fact that he was sick unto death of Bascomb. Sick of his threats and his bullying tactics, sick of the jeopardy he put Elizabeth in every day since he had made her his obsession.

"Perhaps, then, instead of a duel, I shall simply have to kill him. If I am careful, they will never discover who was behind the deed."

Elizabeth stared at him in horror. "You can't do that!"

"Why not? It is what the bastard deserves."

"Because, no matter what people think, you are not a killer." Elizabeth rounded the table and gripped his arm. "We have a plan, Nicholas, remember? As soon as Maggie is settled, we will retire to the country. We'll let Bascomb discover that I am your mistress. He will scarcely want me for a wife after that. His obsession will come to a swift and decisive end, and we can go on with our lives."

Nick stared at her for long, silent moments. Turning, he left the table, weighing her words, trying to convince himself that Elizabeth was right. He paced to the wall, then crossed the room toward the bed. He felt tied in knots, a puppet being pulled by Bascomb's strings. He was angry at Elizabeth for refusing to trust him with her secrets and angry at himself for being helpless in the face of Bascomb's threats.

"Come here, Elizabeth."

Her head came up. She caught the tone of command in his voice and flashed him a look of uncertainty. "My lord?"

"I said for you to come here."

She walked to the place in front of him, her expression a little bit wary.

"Remove your wrapper."

She hesitated, bit down on her lush bottom lip. "Why?"

"Why do you think? You play at being my mistress. If you are, then do as I say and remove your clothes."

"Are you still angry?"

Amusement brought a faint curve to his lips. "Some. But you will learn there are times when anger can be a means to heighten one's pleasure."

Interest flickered in her eyes and the pulse at the base of her throat increased its tempo. Seeing it, his own pulse picked up, started to throb in his groin.

"I'm sorry if I have upset you." She pulled the strings holding her silk brocade wrapper in place and let it pool at her feet. Beneath it she wore a lacy chemise that ended just below her bottom.

His arousal surged, pressing hard against the front of his breeches. "It's all right. Trust takes time."

"But still you are angry."

Angry, yes. And hungry to have her, more so by the moment. "You are about to soothe my anger. Climb up on the bed. I want you on your hands and knees."

A little tremor went through her. He watched as she weighed his words and the hunger she read in his eyes, then climbed up on the bed, looking back at him over one shoulder. "Like this?"

Heat tugged low in his belly. Blood rushed into his loins, making him harder than he was already. "That will do very nicely." He undressed without haste, letting the tension build, enjoying the sight she made and the sweet anticipation. Her fiery hair hung loose, draped over one shoulder, nearly brushing the sheet. Through the lacy chemise that outlined her hips, he caught glimpses of her smooth, pale skin. Desire pounded through him and his shaft throbbed with impatience to be inside her.

He clamped hard on his need, removed the last of his clothes and strode to the bed. Climbing up on the mattress, he took a place behind her, lifted her long auburn hair away from her nape, kissed her there, slid the straps of her chemise off her shoulders and filled his hands with her breasts. They were smooth and heavy in his palms, the nipples already distended. He pinched the ends, not hard, just enough for a quick shot of pleasure/pain.

He felt her trembling, felt the heat of her bottom nestled against his groin, knew she could feel his hardness throbbing there. He massaged her breasts then moved lower, his hands skimming over her body. He raised the chemise, baring her to the waist, and heard her quick intake of breath. He nibbled the lobe of an ear, kissed the side of her neck.

"Part your legs for me, Bess."

She made a little sound in her throat but did as he asked, and his fingers slid inside her. She was wet and ready, hot and slick and tight. He tarried only a moment, stroking her deeply, feeling the moisture collect, hearing her soft little whimpers of passion, fighting the surge of heat that forced him to fight for control.

He entered her in a single hard stroke, impaling her completely, their hips locked tightly together. God, she fit him so perfectly, took him so eagerly. He eased himself out and thrust in even more deeply. Elizabeth responded with a sweet- sounding moan that made him go rock hard. Out and then in, gripping her hips, plunging harder, faster, deeper.

What anger was left slid away, replaced by something else, something that rose deep inside him. It swelled and expanded, changing form, growing into a terrible yearning, a need so powerful it frightened him. A well of longing rose up. He was suddenly desperate to look into her eyes, to watch her face as he gave her pleasure. He wanted to taste her, smell her, fill himself with the essence of her.

Drawing himself out, he urged her onto her back, covered her, and filled her again. He kissed her passionately, erotically, stroking the walls of her mouth with his tongue, claiming her lips with the same fierce possession as he took her body. Feelings for Elizabeth rose up, emotions that erased the dark hollows where loneliness had lived for so long. The shadowy depths inside him flared with a bright glow of warmth.

"Elizabeth ..." Sliding his hands beneath her hips, he sank into her farther, desperate to claim her, to make her a part of him. Elizabeth moaned and her body tightened around him, nearing the point of release. He felt the power of her climax when it came, soft rippling spasms that flexed around his shaft and drove him nearly to madness. He pounded into her, allowing his release to come, allowing her little whimpers of pleasure to warm him as she milked him of his seed.

When he was finished, he collapsed on the bed beside her, carrying her with him, keeping himself locked inside. They lay quietly for a while, his mind filled with thoughts of her, swirling emotions, questions that haunted his mind. He had  wanted to marry her. He had wanted a home, a family, sons to carry his name.

But there was something more, something deep and unsettling. Each time he was with her, his feelings for her grew. He had never felt such powerful emotions, never felt so intensely connected. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman; he felt incomplete, less than whole, when she wasn't with him.

It wasn't like him to react this way and he found it greatly disturbing. He was a hard man, used to a life of emotional isolation. During the years of his indenture, he had learned to bury his feelings behind an iron control, to cut them out Of his mind and heart. In the past few months, his emotions had begun to return. When it came to Elizabeth Woolcot they were fiercely powerful and undeniably frightening.

He wasn't sure exactly what he felt for Elizabeth Woolcot. He only knew she belonged to him, and he would do anything in his power to keep her with him.

Nick closed his eyes, steering his mind to less intense probings. He felt Elizabeth's fingers tracing patterns on his chest, cracked open an eye, and saw that she was smiling.

"You aren't mad anymore."

He couldn't help a smile in return. "Not a bit."

Elizabeth flashed a seductive, mischievous grin. "Perhaps, in the future, I shall anger you once in a while, just to see what will happen."

He tried to frown, but laughed instead. "Minx. I would be careful if I were you. There is always the chance I will beat you."

She gave a funny little shake of her head against the embroidered pillow. "I don't think so."

"There are always other, more subtle forms of punishment."

She pursed her lips. "True. I shall have to walk a very fine line."

He cupped her face and kissed her, deeply, thoroughly, felt himself begin to grow hard again. It bothered him, this powerful hunger she made him feel. For the moment he ignored it. "You must learn to trust me. I realize you have your own set of fears but in this you must do as I say."