A Dangerous Game (11 page)

His fury spoke volumes. It was all she could do not to smile, but instead she clenched her jaw. “You expect me to feel nothing for him?”

He flinched as though she’d struck him. “I cannot believe my own ears.” The pain in his eyes made her wince, and she nearly told him the truth, yet Charlotte’s voice sounded in her head—force him to make a decision where you are concerned. You will know shortly where his heart lies.’

“I didn’t say I loved him, Salvatore.”

“Yet you desire him.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “What is the difference?” His gold eyes held her pinned to the spot.

He released a breath and walked past her toward the door. She was right behind him, uncertain of what to do or say. Never in all their years together had they argued. Sure, they spatted about small, ridiculous things like her playing the wrong key, or which song to play, but never anything intimate.

He was just turning the doorknob when she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath her palm tightened but he didn’t turn. “I would never hurt you—not ever,” she said. “I do find him handsome, and yes, appealing, but I swear to you that is all. I do this for you, Salvatore, because you asked it of me and don’t you forget it.”

When he turned, the anger in his eyes was still there, his expression intense as his gaze searched hers. Her heart gave a hard jolt as without warning, his mouth descended on hers, and he kissed her with a desperation that shocked her, his tongue slipping inside her mouth, stroking hers.

His strong arms wrapped about her waist, pulling her close. The blood in Nicolette’s veins sang, and a heady need filled her, moving low into her groin.

He growled and lifted her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he walked them to the bed, where he followed her down onto the mattress, not once breaking the kiss.

The hard ridge of his cock pressed hard against her sex. His lips left hers, trailing kisses down her neck, the sensitive skin between her breasts. With a trembling hand he lifted her shirt from the band of her breeches, his fingers questing as he palmed a quivering globe. Moments later his lips followed, laving her nipple, using his teeth in a way that had her squirming beneath him.

Watching him suckle her was an incredibly erotic aphrodisiac, making her desire reach an unparalleled high. His long lashes fanned against his jutting cheekbones. He grabbed for one of her hands, and pulled it down between them, to rest on his thick erection.

He looked up at her, his golden eyes dark with passion. “You want to know what a man feels like?” She nodded.

With one hand he unbuttoned his pants and unleashed his cock, long and thick.

Nicolette released the breath she’d unconsciously been holding.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Her fingers encircled the marble-hard, yet velvety smooth shaft.

Salvatore closed his eyes, and she wondered if she’d hurt him. He rolled onto his back, and she went up on her side, looking her fill of him, her fingers stroking the impressive length of his cock.

Gritting his teeth, Salvatore watched Nicolette as she looked at his cock in wonder. Sweet Jesus, did she not know what that look could do to a man, particularly when her unskilled fingers ran up and down his length, then biting into her lower lip, she wrapped her fingers tight about him. Swallowing a moan, his fingers covered hers, guiding her.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he grew even longer, thicker and harder. “Amazing,” she said on a whisper.

His sac tightened, lifted, and he knew if she continued he would give her more of a lesson than intended.

With a growl he rolled away from her, and came to his feet. With trembling hands he buttoned his pants.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked, and when he turned she was on her knees in the middle of the bed, her expression one of disappointment. “I—”

“You did nothing wrong. I let it go too far.”

She scrambled off the bed and was before him in two strides. “No, I want you to teach me. Show me how to make love.”

He would not show her how to make love to his brother. Already he knew she’d be a fast learner—a woman who would bring a man to his knees. Looking at her now, her flushed face, her lips swollen from his kisses, her erect nipples thrusting against the fine material of her shirt. He reached out to her, palming her chin in his hand. “You will know, Nicolette. Let your body guide you.”

Her brows furrowed, and he knew she didn’t like the answer. She placed her hand over his. “I want you...to show me.”

If only...

He forced a smile. “We are already late for dinner. You had best get dressed. I shall return in half an hour to escort you.”

She let her hand drop to her side. He leaned in and kissed her, a chaste kiss, unlike the one a moment before.

There were a million things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the courage. His emotions were in turmoil and he wondered if he even knew what he wanted. Without another word, he left her.

*****

Nicolette approached the piano and sat down on the bench. She ran her fingers over the keys softly.

The Duchess of Durham had requested a song be played in honor of her daughter’s impending marriage to the Earl of Kedgwick. The devil in Nicolette wanted to play a dreary, doom-filled ballad, something that signified her mood as well as the impending marriage of Darian and Elizabeth, who stood hand in hand watching with the others.

Elizabeth’s serene smile didn’t fool Nicolette for a minute. The woman hated her and wanted her out of their lives as soon as possible, and how could she blame her? Darian on the other hand, watched her intently, no smile, no expression whatsoever. No doubt he had learned to school his features for his mother and in-laws’ benefit.

In just a few short hours Darian would come to her room. She had no idea how far things would progress before Elizabeth made her “unexpected” visit. She hoped it was not as far as things had gone with Salvatore today. Her heart still hammered, remembering the feel of his cock in her hand, the hard, velvety texture that even now made her stomach tighten, and caused a deep, throbbing ache in her womanly core.

God, what would happen if Darian wanted her to touch him that way? Did she have the courage? And what would she do if he touched her as Salvatore had? Her nipples, where his mouth had been, were still sensitive against the bodice of her gown. Tonight she had pulled out all the stops, wearing the cream-colored gown with a corset but no petticoats.

If she were smart, she would leave now, while there was still time. She should run and forget the day she had ever planned such a devious scheme.

Salvatore came up behind her and whispered in her ear, “How about something sweet and dynamic. Something that will make the mothers incredibly happy.”

She swallowed hard. His hot breath stirring her hair made her yearn for more of what she’d experienced in his arms.

“Like our version of Bach’s Overture to a Marriage?”

He kissed her on the cheek before taking his place center stage. With his nod she let her fingers drift over the keys. For the next few minutes, she let every bit of aggression she felt out on the ivory and ebony keys, giving the song her all. Though she usually closed her eyes while she played, this time she watched Salvatore, not taking her eyes off him, even for a moment.

In turn, he watched her, his bow stroking the strings, like his fingers had stroked her earlier in her room. His eyes were intense, and she could sense the silent question,
What are you doing?

The side of her mouth lifted slightly, and she increased the tempo, forcing him to catch up. Sweat beaded her brow, but he did not falter, and instead began the game of slowing things down—only to have her pick them up. He always had to have the control when it came to their music...when it came to their lives.

He had almost lost that control earlier today when she had touched him. She could see the passion in his eyes—the intense need—like he could lose himself in her. Her gaze shifted from his, slowly descending. She could feel him watching her in return.

Her gaze stopped just at the band of his pants, then abruptly swung back to his face.

Was that amusement in his eyes? Suddenly he looked at something beyond her shoulder and his hand stopped in midplay—but only for an instant, missing a note...that no one else noticed, save her.

She did not want to look, too afraid of what she’d find, and waited to do so until the final note. The crowd jumped to their feet and Nicolette stood and took the hand Salvatore offered. He kissed her fingers, then leaned forward. “Your father is here.”

He could have said anything else, and she would not have been shocked. But she had never expected to hear those words. Salvatore’s eyes locked with hers and he squeezed her hand.

Curtsying to the crowd, she nodded to the duke and duchess, then let her gaze swing to the right. Her pulse skittered alarmingly as she stared into the familiar blue eyes of the man she never thought to see again. The marquess was older now, but he had not changed much aside from being heavier set, and his auburn hair had gone gray.

At his elbow was a woman, no doubt his wife...the woman who had taken him from Nicolette and her mother. The marchioness stared at Nicolette, her brows furrowed into a frown, as though she couldn’t quite place her. Well, it would only be a matter of time, because even though she shared her father’s coloring, she resembled her mother.

Charlotte stepped forward and embraced Nicolette. “That was wonderful. You are truly gifted, my friend.”

Nicolette nodded. “Thank you.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I have a need to refresh myself. Would you come with me to the withdrawing room?”

“Of course,” Charlotte replied. She kissed Salvatore’s cheek. “I’ll bring her back posthaste.”

He nodded, and Nicolette let her fingers slip from his.

They walked in silence until they were in the withdrawing room, which was thankfully empty, save for two elderly women who talked amongst themselves.

“The two of you melted every heart in that room. Truly, the way you watched each other had everyone wishing they were you,” Charlotte whispered. “I am absolutely amazed that you are not lovers yet.”

How she wanted to share the events of the afternoon with her friend, yet she couldn’t. She did not want to sully what had happened.

“Okay, if you will not tell me, then let me ask you this—who is Lord Wellesley to you?”

Nicolette stopped in midstride.

Beside her, Charlotte watched her intently. “He is your father, isn’t he?”

Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. “Yes.”

Charlotte watched her intently, and then put her hand on Nicolette’s shoulder. “The marquess is a wonderful man with a good heart.”

“He left my mother and me to marry another.”

“I have no doubt it hurt him to do so.”

The words felt like a slap to the face. How dare her new friend tell her what she should feel, particularly someone who had lived a pampered lifestyle. “You know nothing of what my mother and I went through because of him.”

Charlotte must have sensed Nicolette’s anger, for she nodded. “Indeed, I spoke carelessly. Simon is an old friend.”

Nicolette could not believe the timing. Her thoughts were already in turmoil over her seduction of Darian, and now with her father’s arrival, she felt more confused than ever.

Chapter Ten

Salvatore wondered how he would tolerate another three days in the company of all these people with whom he could barely stand to be in the same room.

The footman handed him a large glass of Madeira, which he nursed while trying not to look at the clock again. Where the devil had Nicolette and Charlotte gone? They’d disappeared nearly quarter of an hour ago.

Perhaps Nic had gone to bed to await Darian? Salvatore scanned the room and found his brother talking to Simon Laurent, who kept glancing his way. Did Nicolette’s father remember him? He had been just a boy the last time he had seen the marquess.

Before the thought was finished Darian and Simon were walking toward him.

Salvatore steadied himself and took another drink. Darian smiled and extended his head. “Well done,

Salvatore,” he said, speaking like they were lifelong friends. How fickle those of
the ton
were.

“Thank you,” Salvatore replied, finally glancing at Simon. Nicolette had her father’s eyes, right down to the rare color.

“Salvatore, may I present Simon Laurent, Marquess of Wellesley.”

Simon extended his hand and Salvatore took it.

Salvatore nodded. “A pleasure, my lord.”

“You are a talented musician, Salvatore. As is your partner.”

“What she would give to hear those words,” Salvatore said, releasing the other man’s hand, finding it rather unsettling to look into the same eyes as his partner.

“They had been playing throughout Europe these past five years. It is only recently they’ve found rousing success here in London,” Darian added.

“Where are you from originally?” Simon asked, brow furrowed.

Immediately on his guard, Salvatore considered lying, but knew it would only make him look guilty. “Originally from London.”

The side of Simon’s mouth lifted in a smile. “I have spent my entire life in London. I’ve always enjoyed the city.”

Salvatore took another sip of his drink. “I prefer Paris myself, as does my partner.”

At the mention of Nicolette, the marquess straightened. “I would very much like to meet your partner.”

Salvatore’s heart missed a beat seeing Nicolette. “Well, then you are in luck, for she is coming this way.”

The marquess seemed to pale.

Salvatore smiled at Nicolette, who kept her gaze level with his. He extended his hand and she took it. She trembled. “You are just in time to meet the new arrival. Nicolette, may I present Simon Laurent, the Marquess of Wellesley.”

Nicolette nodded and curtsied. “Lord Wellesley, it is an honor.”

Simon searched her face, his lips curving into a smile. “You have the look of your mother.”

Salvatore squeezed her hand tight, in quiet reassurance. “Thank you, my lord,” Nicolette replied.

She stiffened when her father kissed her hand softly.

“I have waited a long time to meet you.”

Darian appeared suddenly perplexed with the situation. “Tell me, how is your lovely wife?” he asked, breaking into the conversation.

Salvatore smiled inwardly. Obviously Darian had misinterpreted Simon’s interest in Nicolette.

Simon released Nicolette’s hand and turned to their host. “Henrietta is fine, as always. She wishes to travel to Italy come spring, while I return to London for the Season.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Nicolette.” It was Darian’s mother, who exchanged a curt nod with Simon. “Elizabeth is not feeling well. Darian, could you see your fiancée to her room?”

Salvatore glanced over where Elizabeth sat with her parents. She indeed looked rather flushed. “Of course. Will you please excuse me?”

“It has been a long day. Salvatore, will you see me to my room?” Nicolette asked, a touch too quickly. “My lord, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Without another word, she all but dragged Salvatore toward the door.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?” Salvatore asked, worried at her pallor.

“I want this day to be over. The sooner the better.” She stopped outside her door and managed a small smile. “Just make sure you don’t leave us alone for too long.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

*****

Nicolette sat up in bed, her emotions in turmoil. Her father’s presence made everything so complicated. She hated that she was second-guessing herself and her reasons for continuing on with this seduction of Darian Tremayne.