A Dangerous Game (12 page)

Salvatore had noticed Simon Laurent’s arrival as well, having remembered him from the theater at which his mother and Nicolette’s mother had performed. Simon had been a regular visitor, and Salvatore had recounted the moments when the marquess would bring him a treat, pat him on the head, then tell him to find something to do, as all the women used to share a small room.

Which meant that Simon Laurent certainly knew who Salvatore was. Though he’d been a boy back then, Salvatore was easily recognizable by his exotic looks, and golden eyes. It wouldn’t take long for the marquess to put two and two together. He knew Darian well, that much was obvious, and he knew Darian’s father even better. They had run in the same circles, courted women together, and no doubt he would think it strange that Franklin Tremayne’s illegitimate son would come calling at Kedgwick Manor.

Nicolette’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. They would be discovered. Perhaps right now, at this very moment, her father was telling Darian everything. Salvatore had told her not to worry...yet she couldn’t help be concerned.

Perhaps it would be wise to abandon the seduction. She started for the door, intent on talking to Salvatore about it.

A soft knock stopped her dead in her tracks. She glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was still too early for it to be Darian, which meant it was probably Salvatore. Maybe he was here to tell her they needed to leave.

Or, dear God, would it be her father come to talk to her privately?

She grabbed her robe, put it on and walked toward the door, pushing her fear aside with every step. Saying a silent prayer, she opened the door.

Her breath left her in a rush.

Darian stood before her, his jacket unbuttoned, and his hair disheveled, as though he’d been running his fingers through the short, raven locks.

Damn! It was far too early! Nicolette glanced at Salvatore’s door, praying it would open and he would step out.

Darian’s gaze slid over her. “I know it’s before the appointed hour...”

Hearing a door open down the hall, he pushed her inside and shut the door behind him.

“From the first moment I saw you, I hoped to have you. Now, I don’t want this night to end.”

Red-hot fear raced through her as she took a step back. “You were not to come until midnight.”

He took the steps that separated them and pulled her into his arms. “I could not wait until tonight.” His hands were at the fastening of her gown, already unbuttoning it.

She jumped away. “I think later would be better.”

Darian frowned. “What game do you play, Nicolette? Are you meeting another man?”

“No!”

“Lord Wellesley perhaps?”

She flinched. If only he knew. “Definitely not.” She braced her hands against his arms. “I wanted to prepare myself for you.”

“There is no improving on perfection, my sweet.”

A moment later she was swept up in his arms, and he was striding toward her bed...just as Salvatore had done earlier that day. The difference was that with Salvatore her body had hummed, her hands seeking his body, wanting to experience everything he had to give her. Now, with Darian she felt dirty, horrible, and she pushed against him so hard, he dropped her to her feet and stumbled back.

“What is this about?” he asked, his expression teetering between disbelief and rage. She swallowed hard, her mind clamoring for any excuse. “I did not...”

The door opened against Darian’s back, but he blocked it with his boot. “Nicolette!” Charlotte’s voice called from the other side.

Thank God!

She looked to Darian, who shook his head, imploring her to silence.

“Yes, I am here,” Nicolette called.

Darian closed his eyes.

“Then for heaven’s sake, open the door,” Charlotte said, as the doorknob turned once more.

Nicolette walked toward the door, Darian’s eyes narrowed. “Do not open that door,” he said under his breath.

“I have to.”

“Nicolette...” Charlotte’s voice was full of trepidation.

His eyes were imploring.

Nicolette sighed. “Charlotte, I am fine.”

“Phooey, open the door. I have something to share with you.”

Nicolette reached for the doorknob again.

Darian shook his head. “Do not open it,” he whispered.

“Hide,” Nicolette said with a forced smile. Darian’s eyes searched hers, and realizing she wasn’t about to give in, he walked toward the window, where he disappeared behind the velvet drape.

Releasing an unsteady breath, Nicolette opened the door. Charlotte’s brows were practically to her hairline. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were having a liaison, my dear.”

She looked toward the curtain and Charlotte’s eyes lit up, and Nicolette mouthed the word, “Darian”.

Charlotte pursed her lips. “I just passed Salvatore in the hall. He said you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I would come and check on you myself.” Charlotte stepped past Nicolette and walked toward the balcony, just a few feet from where Darian stood. “What a beautiful night it is.”

How she loved this new friend of hers. “Yes, it is.”

“You know, I am growing weary of being in this house with all these old fogies. Give me London any day of the week....”

“It is not so bad.”

Charlotte sighed. “Perhaps it is the arrival of the duke and duchess. They look down their noses at everyone. When I just passed them in the hallway, they were asking me if I knew Darian’s whereabouts? The duchess would not even look me in the eye. Instead, she glanced at the low décolletage of my gown, then fanned herself as though she would faint.”

“She does not approve of me either.”

“She seems to forget that she and my mother were good friends, and I know all about the hell she caused in court.” Charlotte snickered good-naturedly, while rolling her eyes. “By the way, do you happen to know where Darian is off to? I believe the countess is having the servants scour the house as we speak. I would hate to see him come up missing during this most grand event.”

Darian stepped out from behind the curtain and Charlotte feigned surprise. “Why, Darian, what in the world are you doing here?”

Looking irritated, Darian ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Dearest Charlotte, though I have the feeling you knew all along I was here, I will take the higher road and ask for your silence in this matter.”

Charlotte’s lips quirked. “Darling, this will be our little secret, though you should know better than anyone that servants have a tendency to talk...especially servants who enjoy having their hands greased.”

Darian looked affronted. “My staff is loyal.”

Charlotte lifted a brow. “Come, Darian, everyone has a price. You know that.”

“And you?”

Her gaze shifted from his, moving slowly downward. Nicolette could not believe the brazenness of the woman, but secretly applauded her for such daring.

Darian did not share her good humor. If looks could kill, Charlotte would be dead. “I had better go,” Darian said, stepping past them. “Charlotte, would you be so kind as to check the hallway?”

“You want me to be your accomplice?” she asked, managing to sound shocked. The woman could give the most seasoned actress a run for her money.

“I ask you to do what any friend would.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Very well, but I am only slipping into the hall for a moment. I suggest you stay out of the way in case someone comes barging in here unannounced.”

Charlotte swept into the hallway and Darian took Nicolette by the shoulders. “I do not know if we will ever find the time to be alone, but know this much, Nicolette. We are not finished here. Not by half. I want you in my bed, and in my bed you shall be.” It looked like he was about to kiss her—when Charlotte walked back into the room. “The hallway is clear, but the duke is down on the first-floor landing. Perhaps the servants’ staircase would be a better route.”

“Thank you,” he said, slipping out the door, no doubt heading for the servants’ staircase.

Nicolette shut the door behind him and breathed a heavy sigh. “Thank God!”

Standing in the middle of the room, Charlotte watched Nicolette intently. “Tell me what’s going on, Nicolette. I do not understand why Darian was here, particularly when you told me you were quite interested in Salvatore.”

There was no jealousy in the other woman’s voice or expression—just curiosity.

Charlotte crossed her arms, pushing her generous cleavage to her throat. “Your lips are swollen from his kisses.”

Unable to meet her steady gaze, Nicolette blurted, “He wants me.”

“And? Do you want him?”

“This is quite awkward, Charlotte. I know the two of you are lovers.”

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte released a heavy sigh. “We are all adults, my dear. Darian and I made love. That does not make us lovers, and believe me when I say it wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. There are few people in your life that you will be attracted to in such a way that when they enter the room, all you are aware of is that one person. Everything else fades away, until you can think of nothing but being with him, having him, making love to him until your bones feel like hot butter.”

“You love him?”

Charlotte nodded, and her rouged lips curved. “We met when we were both children. Our families were good friends, and we learned early that we enjoyed each other’s company.” She winked. “We are attracted to each other, but we are far too alike to be together, and I knew that loving him would be folly for me. I always knew he would marry someone younger than myself, a virgin from a good family. My father had lost our fortune by the time I had come of age. Thank goodness Charles did not care about money and asked for my hand because he loved me.”

Nicolette sat down and motioned for her friend to do likewise. “And, did you love him?”

“I cared for Charles, and in time I grew to love him, but in a different way than conventional love. He was more than twice my age, and in truth, he treated me more like a pet than a wife. We rarely made love, and he never guessed that I kept lovers. I would never openly hurt him, and I was always discreet. That is until Darian came along.” She ran a finger along the embroidered edge of a pillow. “It was the night of the countess’s fiftieth birthday and Darian had been off to travel the globe after university.” Charlotte’s smile was melancholy. “When I saw him, I swear to you, Nicolette, that my heart literally slammed to a stop. He caught my gaze from across the room, and I felt that wicked grin all the way to my soul.”

Nicolette knew exactly how she felt—for that’s how she felt when she saw Salvatore.

“Within an hour we were in the drawing room making love. The intensity of that moment still makes my heart leap.”

Nicolette could very well imagine. Just as her heart had leapt this afternoon when Salvatore had touched her....

“It was the first time we had made love, and I knew that once would never be enough. We were so young...and so wild.” Charlotte took on a faraway look. “Charles walked in on us, and I shall never forget the expression on his face. He was so hurt I could do nothing, laying there, my gown up around my waist, my lover between my thighs.”

“What did you do?”

“As horrible as it sounds, the minute the door closed we continued, making love with an intensity I have since never experienced. In truth, I think it made Darian even more aroused to have Charles catch us.” She sighed. “That night I knew that Darian would always have a piece of my heart. No one else can make my blood stir the way that man can.”

“What did your husband do?”

“When Darian and I finished, I walked directly to my husband’s side, and he behaved like he had not witnessed his adoring wife making love to another man.” Charlotte shook her head. “I swear to you, Nicolette, Charles did not treat me any differently. He still treated me with open adoration and doted on me. Not once, even on his deathbed, did he bring up my infidelity. I love him even more for having done so.”

Nicolette thought Charlotte’s husband a saint. She did not know of any man of her acquaintance who would be so forgiving, particularly walking in on the act itself. Darian should have been called out in a second.

“Would you marry Darian now if he asked you?”

Charlotte’s brows furrowed. “Nic, you are daft. Darian would never marry me.”

“Perhaps if it were his choice, he would.”

Charlotte laughed, but for all the humor in her eyes, Nicolette also sensed an infinite sadness. Nicolette herself knew what it was to love a man who would never truly be hers. Darian loved her, that much was true, but he would not, for whatever reason, give his heart to Charlotte—much like Salvatore would never give her his heart. He thought love a fickle notion, left for poets and novelists.

Standing, Charlotte shook her head. “What I don’t understand is why I am telling you all this, especially about the man who was hiding in your room.”

“I don’t want him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“You want Salvatore, am I right?”

Nicolette nodded. “You know I do.”

Charlotte extended her hand to Nicolette. “Then you shall have him. I shall help you into bed, and then I will get Salvatore to come check on you in a little while. Tell him you do not feel well and that you would like him to lay down beside you and keep watch over you.”

“He will know that you lie.”

Chuckling under her breath, Charlotte smiled wickedly. “You forget, my friend, that I know men well. We women are devious creatures when we want to be. A man needs to know that a woman depends on him for his strength and security.”

“He does?”

She nodded. “Salvatore knows that you need him—that goes without saying. He watches you constantly, making sure that you are all right. I swear during dinner he paid more attention to your conversation than his own.”

“He does it out of habit. I’ve depended on him my entire life. When my mother died, I had no family. The madam wanted to send me to a nunnery, but Salvatore and his mother refused.”

“Was his mother kind?”

Nicolette smiled, remembering the gypsy woman with olive skin and gorgeous silky hair—much the same color as Salvatore’s. “She was kind, but rarely there when we needed her. Salvatore and I had our own room, up in an old attic space that had one time been used as a closet. We were glad to have it, and each other.”

Charlotte began unbuttoning Nicolette’s gown. “No wonder you love him like you do.”

Nicolette smiled, and allowed the older woman to undress her until she stood in nothing save her chemise.

Charlotte motioned toward the vanity. “Sit and let me brush out your glorious hair.”

Nicolette felt a bit odd having her new friend fawn over her. She had never had a relationship with a woman, even her mother had been distant. In truth, she had starved for such affection, but instead had received pats on the head by the whores of the boarding house, where she had been looked upon as more of a hindrance than anything.

When finished, Charlotte set the brush down and pinched Nicolette’s cheeks.

“That hurt,” Nicolette said, frowning at her friend in the mirror.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Beauty takes work, my dear. Men think it comes naturally. If only they knew how we toiled before the mirror. Look at you, Nicolette. There is not a man in all of England who would not want you.” She dabbed rose oil behind her ears.