Tears of Gold (23 page)

Nicholas stared down at Mara, his mouth curving slightly at the image of cool perfection she created in her pale green gown of shot silk, the softly luminous color reflected in the soft pinks of a single rose pattern running across the material. Nicholas glanced around and, walking over to a rose bush, plucked a single bud from one of its thorny branches. There was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes as he bent over Mara, one booted leg planted beside her on the bench. He leaned behind her and, with gentle fingers, tucked the blossom into the thick coil of hair against her nape.

Nicholas transferred his gaze from the pink bud to Mara’s mouth, and said softly, “A Castilian rose whose beauty has been surpassed only by your loveliness.”

Mara stared up into the deep green eyes, every nerve in her body conscious of the muscular thigh clad in buckskin that nearly touched her shoulder. Had she dared, she could have reached out and caressed it. Mara touched the rose instead, but something of her thoughts must have shown in her eyes because his hard fingers reached out suddenly, closing over hers. He held her hand softly against his lips. Then, with a provocative look, he pressed her palm to his hard cheek. “I prefer it against my cheek in this manner.”

“You’re very gallant this morning,” Mara remarked when he’d released her hand. It tingled more from the touch of his lips than it had when she’d slapped him.

“If you allowed yourself to know me better,” Nicholas responded lazily, his green eyes looking into Mara’s warmly, “then you’d discover that I can be, under the right circumstances, very kind and loving.”

Before Mara could think of a proper response, Nicholas became aware of Paddy sitting silently beside her. “I don’t believe I’ve met this young man, although he looks familiar.” He stared down at Paddy who squirmed under the tall man’s penetrating eyes.

“This is my cousin Brendan’s son, Padraic. Say hello to Mr. Chantale, Paddy,” Mara instructed, but was totally unprepared for his startling response.

“I don’t like you,” Paddy said in a childishly small voice, his small jaw stuck out pugnaciously.

Nicholas was just as surprised by the unprovoked attack, but after a second’s silence he started to laugh, the deep, rich sound filling the courtyard. “I wonder how many people would have given their fortunes to say that to my face as easily as this little fellow did?”

Paddy glanced in worried suspicion between Mara and this threatening stranger who seemed to be able to please her and had even kissed her. In childish fury he threw what was left of his bread and jam against Nicholas’s chest, the sticky confection leaving a bluish purple stain against the fine lawn shirt.

“Paddy!” Mara gasped.

But Paddy had sized up his man as well as his target, and without hesitation jumped from the bench and fled across the courtyard as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Nicholas’s face was grim, his mouth hardening into a thin line. He looked up from the stain. “I suppose you had nothing to do with this little act of maliciousness?” he asked softly, a humorless smile twisting his lips.

Mara slowly got to her feet. She searched frantically for something to say. But an imp of mischief threatened her composure when she glanced at the widening purple stain. She made the mistake of looking directly into his green eyes, the twinkle of amusement still bright in hers. As Nicholas saw her expression, his hand reached out and curled around her upper arm restrainingly. He effectively blocked her way.

“You find this funny?” he demanded, yet Mara thought she caught a suspicion of a smile around the corners of his mouth. “Maybe you wouldn’t find it quite so amusing if I made you wash the shirt clean for me?”

Mara smiled openly at the thought of her washing his shirts. “Your shirt would be a total loss then. But I’ll have my maid do it for you if you wish.” Mara shook her head in disgust as she gazed in fascination at the stain. A drop of jam had splattered across the edge of his shirt and landed in the middle of the triangle of bare flesh and tangle of hair. Before she stopped to realize the implications of what she was doing, Mara reached up and scooped the dab of jam from his chest. She licked some of it from the tip of her index finger.

“Not bad. A little salty, perhaps, but not bad,” Mara said softly as she looked up at him. Nicholas’s eyes glinted down at her. He grasped her hand and very slowly and sensuously licked the rest of the jam from her finger. Mara felt herself leaning closer as her eyes remained locked with his, but she jerked away when she heard the sound of footsteps crossing the patio.

Don Andres stared coldly at Nicholas as he approached them, noticing their closeness. “Is there something amiss?” he asked politely, barely hiding his anger.

“Nothing that can’t be washed clean, Don Andres,” Nicholas replied evenly.

“I’m afraid Mr. Chantale spilled some jam on his shirt,” Mara explained lamely as she tried to regain her composure. The fact that she had lost it in the first place was causing her the most discomfiture.

“I will have my servants clean it, Mr. Chantale,” Don Andres offered. “I shouldn’t like you to leave here without all your possessions.”

Nicholas smiled back at him, his narrowed gaze acknowledging the subtle hint.

“Then you will have it returned to me by the end of the week, when I was planning to leave. Unless of course,” Nicholas continued thoughtfully, “there is some hurry and you wish my room sooner than that?”

Don Andres sighed as he admitted defeat. Put so bluntly, he could not in all good manners eject this guest. The Frenchman had very neatly turned the tables on him. With a slight frown, he denied his wishes.

“You are, of course, welcome to stay for as long as you wish, Mr. Chantale,” Don Andres said cordially.

“Thank you,” Nicholas replied softly, “and you needn’t worry. I shall not overstay my welcome. Now…if you’ll excuse me?”

Mara watched Nicholas saunter off toward his room. In his tall boots and full-sleeved shirt he reminded her of a swashbuckling pirate. There was something proudly arrogant in the slight swagger of his lean hips, the indolent grace of his stride. Mara could just as easily imagine him striding across the bridge of a privateer on the high seas.

“The Frenchman was not annoying you, Amaya?” Don Andres asked as he noticed the uncertain expression on Mara’s face.

“No, not really.” Mara paused, then added wryly, “At least, no more than usual.”

“I could ask him to leave,” Don Andres offered.

“No!” Mara spoke quickly without thinking. “I mean, it really is not necessary, Andres. Please don’t,” Mara requested, surprised to hear an almost pleading note in her voice.

“As you wish, Amaya. But if he continues to disturb you, I shall not hesitate in seeking his departure,” Don Andres said sternly, his dark eyes glowing in anticipation of such an event.

“How is Feliciana?” Mara asked, hoping to change the conversation.

“She is still quite shaken from the incident,” Don Andres replied, his voice a blend of anger and softness as he spoke of his young ward.

“You are very fond of her, Andres,” Mara said, making it a statement rather than a question.

“Of course, she is one of the family,” Don Andres answered. “Come, let us talk of other things. Here are our refreshments,” he said as a servant came forward bearing a tray with an earthenware pitcher and glasses. “I thought you might enjoy something cool since you are unaccustomed to our heat.”

Mara allowed him to change the subject this time and settled down to an uneventful afternoon although a disquieting one, for she had an uneasy feeling that events were winding down for the final denouement.

***

Mara rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. It was hot and stuffy and her breathing felt restricted. With an irritable sigh she pulled her pillow from beneath her head and flipped it over onto the cool underside. But it gave her only a moment’s relief, soon heating up beneath the warmth of her cheek.

It was no use trying to sleep. She sat up in bed and rubbed her fingertips against her throbbing temples.

Mara threw back the thin sheet that covered her and, dropping her feet to the floor, reached for her robe and wrapped it around her naked body. She padded across the floor on silent feet, fumbling along the top of a bureau for her watch.

Only two o’clock, it was hours yet until dawn. Mara picked up the pitcher of water to pour some into the matching basin beside it, but knew as she lifted it that it would be empty. She pushed back her tangled hair from her face, wishing she could bathe her flushed cheeks in something cool.

The hacienda was so quiet, Mara thought as she stood in the silence of her room, the only sound the faint bubbling of the fountain in the courtyard. A slight smile of satisfaction curved Mara’s lips as she made her way from the room and out into the courtyard toward the fountain. The cool night air was as exhilarating as a good wine. Mara sat on the edge of the fountain and let her hand slip down deep into the cold dark water, scooping up a handful to splash against her face. She patted her face dry with a lacy handkerchief and, with a sigh of relief, filled her lungs with the soft, fragrant night air.

With a sigh of regret, Mara began to make her way back to her room, slipping silently through the darkness of the corridor. She yawned widely, her eyes closed shut for a second. She continued walking until she suddenly struck something hard and immovable and was knocked sideways.

“What the devil?”

Hard hands saved her from falling as they reached out and grabbed her. They brushed against the softness of her breast as they grasped her around the waist. “Are you all right?’

“I’m fine,” Mara answered huskily, not needing to hear the voice or see the face to know that it was Nicholas. She had known instinctively.

Mara could see the dim outline of his face in the darkness of the passage and knew he was straining to see her face. “Amaya,” he said softly, and Mara felt an instant’s regret that she couldn’t hear her own name on his lips.

“Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?” Nicholas asked again. Mara would have sworn there was genuine concern in his voice. “I must have knocked the breath from you. I’ve never heard you quite so silent before. Come, let me get you something to drink. Why, your hands are like ice,” he exclaimed as he guided her along the corridor, away from her room, to his door. “If you won’t be offended by coming into my room, I do have some cognac. That should warm you up.” His room was dark, and Mara stood silently by the door, refusing to give in to the nervousness she felt flicker along her spine. As Nicholas lit the candles, the room was thrown into a warm yellow glow that intensified the shadowy furnishings and corners of the room. Mara heard the rattle of glasses. A tumbler of golden liquid held in his hand, Nicholas turned and stood still, seeing her revealed for the first time. Almost leisurely, his green-eyed gaze roamed over her startling dishabille as Mara’s jade robe shimmered in the flickering light, the rich silken fabric clinging to the softly rounded contours of her body.

Mara drew in her breath slightly as she watched his eyes slide down her shoulders to the opened lapels of her robe where the white curve of her breast was revealed. Burning with embarrassment, Mara pulled the gaping edges of her robe together and tied the sash tighter around her slim waist, nervously realizing he was very much aware that she was naked beneath the robe.

Nicholas moved slowly closer, stopping barely a foot in front of her as he held out the glass. Mara reached out and accepted it, feeling it might indeed calm her nerves. Mara glanced up into his face as she sipped the fiery brandy, her eyes locking with his. She looked away, swallowing the last of her brandy quickly. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she wanted him to look at her this way? Hadn’t she flirted with him, led him on? She had never been emotionally affected in the past when men stared at her in this way. Now that she did have his full attention, she was afraid. He was different from the others, and she had to admit that she was different as well. He had managed to entice and excite her in the same way she had always bewitched men.

“Little did I imagine when I stepped outside for a brief moment to enjoy my cheroot, that I would find you wandering alone in the dark half-naked,” Nicholas said softly, his eyes lingering on the unbound glory of her hair.

He reached out and took Mara’s empty glass from her unresisting fingers and placed the two glasses side by side on the table. Mara glanced down at her bare feet, staring at her toes as if seeing them for the first time. She felt at a disadvantage with Nicholas. It was something she had never felt before. She was definitely out of her league with this man, and she had a feeling she should have heeded Brendan’s warning.

“You puzzle me, Amaya,” he spoke close to her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “I would have expected a proper English miss to be securely wrapped in a high-necked nightdress, her chaste body enveloped in yards of fine linen.” His hand moved up her arm inside the loose-fitting sleeve. “But here you are in a silk wrapper that displays your charms most tantalizingly.”

“Have you ever been in a young Englishwoman’s bedchamber when she was preparing for bed, m’sieu?” Mara managed to ask with a sardonic smile curving her lips. At his shake of his dark head Mara shrugged. “Then how do you know what a woman like me would wear to bed?”

“A woman like you?” he repeated, his eyes questioning her. “And what kind of woman are you? Or are you still just a little girl playing at being a woman?”

At his words Mara’s cheeks flushed angrily. But before she could give vent to a stinging retort, he continued unrelentingly. “Your heart is racing. With what? Excitement? Fear? Do I have the power to disturb you, my dear,” he demanded as his hand moved from her arm to her shoulder. It slid beneath her robe, cupping her bare breast, his thumb rubbing against the soft nipple until it hardened under his probing. His other hand slipped down her slender back and along her spine until coming to rest on the curve of her buttocks.

Mara looked up into his narrowed gaze, her golden eyes widening in surprise as his hand pressed her hips against his muscular thighs, molding her pliant flesh against his hardness. Mara was breathing rapidly. She’d be damned if she’d show him how innocent she really was, how lacking in actual experience. She moved her arms slowly up to his shoulders and then around the strong column of his neck, her fingers locking together at the back of his head as she tilted her face upward. Her lips parted slightly as she steadily returned his gaze.