A Dangerous Game (7 page)

“Indeed.”

Charlotte licked her bottom lip. “Not for long,” she said with a wink.

And with that, Charlotte weaved her way through the maze. Nicolette followed behind—staying far enough away from the stone bench where Darian stood, that she would not be noticed.

His surprise upon seeing Charlotte was obvious. He lifted his brows, and she could not hear what they said to each other. For a few moments they chatted, and then Charlotte launched herself into his arms, kissing Darian.

At first Kedgwick appeared amused, but when Charlotte caressed the obvious bulge in his pants, his expression changed completely.

Charlotte lifted her skirts, exposing dark stockings held up by rosette garters. She turned her back on Darian, leaned over the bench, and braced her hands on the stone bench. Her bare bottom was high in the air, an open invitation if ever there was one.

Darian unbuttoned his pants, exposing his thick arousal. He said something that made Charlotte giggle, then scanning the area to make sure they were alone, he slid his length inside the widow with a groan. His head fell back on his shoulders, his jaw clenched tight.

Charlotte sighed loudly as Darian thrust into her again and again. Nicolette watched for a moment, unable to look away at the sight, at the pleasure in both their faces.

A strange stirring crept into Nicolette’s stomach, and lower to the flesh between her thighs.

Charlotte reached back and grabbed Darian’s buttocks, her cries growing louder. He placed a hand over her mouth, no doubt to silence her. She sucked his fingers and Darian’s thrusts increased.

His free hand found her sex, and the widow slammed back against him.

Charlotte’s hand cupped her own breast, her fingers toying with a nipple.

With a final glance, Nicolette left the two.

Once safely behind the closed door of her bedchamber, she sat down on her bed and ran her hand down her face. Had Charlotte not come along, it could have possibly been her in that labyrinth with Darian.

Thank goodness for Charlotte.

Perhaps she should just come right out with it and tell Salvatore how she felt.

She stood up, then sat right back down. How would he feel if he knew she had failed yet again? Secretly she hoped Darian kept his distance. Perhaps befriending Charlotte would make things easier for her. In fact, why could she not encourage Charlotte to continue her liaison with Darian at the party? She could help Charlotte, know their whereabouts, and then send the countess, or even the duke looking for the two. It would still mean Darian’s downfall, and she could leave with her conscience—and her virginity—intact.

*****

Darian walked back to his quarters, his mind racing. He had but a taste of Nicolette and now he knew it would never be enough. Her passion was overwhelming and the attraction between them was so fierce, it was disconcerting.

Had he actually thought that one taste, one touch, would be enough? Damn, if Charlotte had not come upon them it would have been Nicolette he had fucked instead of the widow, a woman he had bedded before right under her husband’s nose. True, his body was sated for the time being, but it was not Charlotte that he craved.

No, it was Nicolette.

How would he get through the next week with her underfoot?

He was so deep in thought, he nearly ran into his mother as he rounded the corner.

Her gaze shifted from his, down the hall, toward Nicolette’s room where he was heading. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said, one dark brow lifted in question.

Though she no more than whispered, there was a shrill-like quality to her voice that he had never heard before, and it made him uneasy.

“What can you be thinking, Darian? You are cuckolding your intended right beneath her nose—and at your own engagement party, no less. Nicolette is a musician for God’s sake. The daughter of a trollop. Must I remind—”

“I’ve heard enough, Mother. You forget she is here by your invitation.”

She lifted her chin. “They invited themselves. I received word from Salvatore a fortnight ago. He asked to come.”

Darian frowned. Nicolette had given him the impression that his mother had sought the duo out.

“Come, Darian? She is a beautiful woman and she is attracted to you, that much is obvious. They could live very generously off your wealth if you were to become her lover. And think about this...they had a standing invitation to play at Brooks’ for the entire month, which would have paid quite nicely. Yet, here they do not expect or require payment, but rather perform as a favor. A favor to whom, I ask you? And, there is no one here that they would call a close friend. In fact, they are virtual strangers to most all our guests. Think on it...it makes no sense whatsoever.”

He didn’t want to consider that her words might hold any truth, but as the minutes ticked by and he thought back over the last couple of days, he had to wonder if Nicolette’s affection toward him was indeed orchestrated. What if she and that too-pretty partner of hers did have an ulterior motive? He shook away the thought. Nicolette desired him—that was not too hard to believe, given he had been chased by more than one entertainer in his life.

“Perhaps they should leave,” she interjected, steering him back toward the staircase.

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied, intent on finding out the truth for himself. He had no intention of telling the two to leave...at least not until he had Nicolette in his bed.

She nodded. “Good, then I expect you to abide by my wishes and play the gracious host and groom-to-be. I know marriage is not an easy thing to accept, but it will benefit you and future generations of Kedgwicks. It is a matter of family honor that you do this.”

“There are many women out there who want you simply on the merits of your title. Elizabeth is not one of those women. She will be a good wife, and the least you can do is be a faithful husband. Remember that her father will stand for nothing else. It is not like you have not had time to take your fill of women.” Without another word she smiled tightly, then turned toward her quarters.

As he watched his mother go, he pondered her words. True, he had had a lot of women in his time, but none that could compare with Nicolette. None had her fire, or her spirit—a quality he found very appealing. The emotions she evoked in him were altogether too intense, particularly to a man who was to be married.

Chapter Six

Nicolette had just finished breakfast when Darian walked into the dining room. To her right, Charlotte sat up straighter, a knowing smile on her lips as she glanced at Kedgwick, who completely ignored her.

Darian took a seat at the head of the table, nodded toward a servant and waited until he’d been served before meeting her gaze. Nicolette smiled, then lifted the china cup to her lips.

“How are you this morning, Nicolette?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes coming to rest on the low bodice of her gown.

Nicolette could see Charlotte bristle beside her. The woman lifted her chin a fraction and arched her back, her ample bosom near spilling from the tight confines of her amazing yellow gown. Darian glanced at the other woman and nodded. “Lady Mariweather.”

Charlotte smiled prettily and nodded in return, her look so smoldering even the footman blushed.

Salvatore walked in a moment later. Wearing navy breeches, a white shirt and Hessian boots that were splattered with mud, it was obvious where he’d been. His long hair had been tied back in a queue, but a lock had come loose from the ribbon and fell against his neck and shoulders in lush waves.

Nicolette swallowed hard. He had never looked so desirable.

He went straight to the sideboard where he grabbed a plate and picked out a slice of ham and a few pieces of fresh fruit before taking the seat directly across from her.

“You were riding?” she asked, wondering why he had not woken her. He knew she loved to ride just as much as he did.

He looked up from his plate and stared at her. “Indeed, I did go for a ride.”

She pursed her lips as he pierced the ham with his fork and lifted it to his lips—those soft full lips that she yearned to feel against her own.

He was male perfection. Tall, dark, beautiful, and with a talent that made women weep.

A buxom servant poured Salvatore a cup of tea, brushing up against him as she did so. Beside Nicolette, Charlotte chuckled under her breath.

Nicolette gave her a sidelong glance and Charlotte lifted her brows. “He is gorgeous,” she whispered, and Nicolette nodded in agreement, not at all liking the way the widow’s eyes settled on Salvatore.

“Are you finished riding for the day?” Darian asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Salvatore looked up, his gaze meeting his brother’s. He shrugged. “I am growing restless, I fear.”

Darian looked like he’d been struck. “Indeed? Well, I would hate to think I had not done my duty by you. Why do we not go for a ride this afternoon.”

“That would be wonderful,” Nicolette said, ignoring Salvatore’s displeasure.

“I would love to,” Salvatore replied, turning to Darian. “How about we invite your fiancée along. I have missed her company of late.”

Charlotte cleared her throat. Nicolette pushed her plate back from her. “Would you like to join us, Lady Mariweather?”

The widow grinned. “I would love to. Thank you so much for asking!”

Pleased to have an ally, Nicolette pushed back her chair. “Since I’m finished eating, I’ll go change.”

Charlotte stood beside her. “And I shall join you.”

Nicolette went straight to her room and promised she would meet Charlotte at the foot of the steps in quarter of an hour. She browsed the armoire and decided on a forest green riding habit. Within minutes she changed, pinned on the hat, and made for the stairs where Charlotte waited. The widow wore a black riding habit that hugged her generous curves, and a black hat, including a huge peacock feather, sat atop her blonde braided hair.

The woman was absolutely breathtaking, and for a moment Nicolette had the insane urge to head back up the stairs and change into something more alluring.

Spying her, Charlotte beamed. “Come, the men are already at the stables.”

They departed the house, and made their way down the staircase that led to the immaculate gardens. Charlotte pulled on her gloves and nodded toward Elizabeth. “Look at that chit. She does not know the first thing about horseflesh.”

True enough, Elizabeth stood with arms rigid, back poker-straight, as Darian tried to help her mount the gray mare. The woman’s face was positively white. Finally, with struggle, Elizabeth settled into the sidesaddle, looking like she would rather be anywhere else.

“How ridiculous it is that a man such as the earl should be saddled with a child like Elizabeth for a bride.” Charlotte shook her head. “And to have a father-in-law as morally strict as the Duke of Durham to boot. One can almost feel sorry for him.”

“Almost?”

Charlotte grinned devilishly. “In truth, he deserves it. He has broken more hearts in England than any other man. He tires of his mistresses too easily, disposing of them the moment they get too clingy.”

“You were one of those women?”

Charlotte scoffed. “Lord no! I was a married woman, so I had no expectations whatsoever. Our affair was brief, but fun, and I am glad to have rekindled it here while at Kedgwick Hall. A last hurrah, have you, before the Earl of Kedgwick is put to pasture.”

“So you believe he will be forced to remain faithful to Elizabeth?”

“Let’s just say the duke has eyes everywhere, and he will do what he must to ensure his only heir is happy.”

Just then Salvatore stepped out of the stables, leading a large black mare. Having been brought up poor and in London, riding had been an activity both she and Salvatore had yearned for from afar. It had been Count de Vassey, a sweet man who bred horses just outside of Paris, who had introduced the two to horse riding. Everyday they had ridden, and under de Vassey’s tutelage, had learned to ride with skill, as well as care for horses. When they had left his home, the count had given them mounts, which they kept at a stable near London.

“How do you keep your hands off of him, Nicolette?” Charlotte asked, staring at Salvatore in a way that made her uncomfortable and… jealous.

A lanky groom led a horse and she mounted without help. Charlotte, however, looked toward Salvatore for assistance. Nicolette watched with a practiced smile, noting how Charlotte’s gloved hand clenched around Salvatore’s biceps. Did the woman have no shame?

Salvatore seemed not to mind. In fact, he flashed a wolfish smile, and lit up under the woman’s attention. Any man would want Charlotte. She was beautiful, voluptuous, and had a wild streak that most men must find enticing. Plus, as she stated to Nicolette earlier, she had no expectations when it came to taking lovers, and therefore men weren’t intimidated by her. All they expected was mutual satisfaction.

Did Salvatore want Charlotte? He had told her he thought her groping beneath the dinner table was taxing, but was he only saying that to make her feel better? Or did he actually enjoy having the woman, who was a few years his senior, panting for him?

With a wild whoop Charlotte was off like a shot, and Salvatore right behind her. Not to be left out of the fun, Nicolette kicked her mount and raced across the green grass.

The wind caught her hair, ripping it from her ribbon. The tresses blinded her for a moment. Ahead of her Charlotte darted off to the left, around a large hedge.

Nicolette wondered if Salvatore would go for the wall. She knew the minute he had committed. He leaned down, low over the horse’s mane and jumped, the stallion making the wall with inches to spare.

Nicolette glanced over her shoulder to see Kedgwick and Elizabeth but a speck on the horizon. Without another thought, she put knees to the horse’s flanks and jumped.

Charlotte and Salvatore were side by side watching as Nicolette landed on solid ground. The widow clapped excitedly. “Bravo, Nicolette! My goodness, you have nerve.” Nicolette glanced at Salvatore, who quickly hid his concern with a grin and a wink.

“You doubted I could make it?”

“I would never doubt you,” he said matter-of-factly, the wind whipping his long, dark hair. “You are an excellent horsewoman and well you know it.”

He brought his mount up alongside her mare. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. The sound of approaching horses signaled Darian and Elizabeth had caught up. Darian glanced at Nicolette, his expression indecipherable. He had seemed on edge all morning, and she wondered if it had anything to do with Charlotte’s presence. No doubt it put him in an awkward position to be spending one’s afternoon with both fiancé and the woman he’d made love to the night before.

For the next few hours the group rode at a slower pace, and listened to Elizabeth’s nonstop whining. The woman hated riding and she complained incessantly of her sore back, neck and shoulders.

Darian remained somber, obviously preferring to watch and listen rather than take part in the conversation. However Charlotte proved to be a wonderful companion, telling stories of
the ton
that would make most women blush. It was then Nicolette realized how innocent the duke’s daughter was. She did not understand any of the double entendres Charlotte dropped in nearly every sentence.

When finally they stopped to let the horses rest and to feast on wine, cheese and fruit, Nicolette sat opposite Darian and Elizabeth, next to Salvatore and Charlotte. The widow had already divested herself of her boots and now made quick work of her stockings. Darian’s eyes flickered over her calves before he looked away.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned crimson. “Lady Mariweather, I find your behavior positively scandalous!”

Charlotte lifted a brow at the young woman. She lifted her full glass of wine. “Here’s to you, Lady Elizabeth. A woman of virtue and upstanding morals.” She let her gaze fall on Darian for a moment. “Who is the envy of every woman in England.”

A nerve flickered in Darian’s jaw.

Elizabeth frowned, as though she struggled to understand the toast. Comprehension came slowly and with it another blush. The poor girl would faint if she did not watch it.

Nicolette picked a grape from the cluster and popped it in her mouth. Salvatore sat back on his elbows, looking off to the distance. The sun cast a reddish glow on his dark hair. She released a little sigh. The man truly was perfection. As though sensing her perusal, he glanced at her.

Her eyes searched his face, and for an instant she saw surprise there. Was her desire so obvious then? She smiled softly and he slowly looked away.

Suddenly too hot herself, Nicolette unlaced her boots, rolled down her stockings and went to dip her toes in the small pond.