Tears of Gold (59 page)

“And how could I resist one so kind as you, m’sieu?” Mara replied with a provocative look.

“I should like to be more than just kind, mademoiselle,” Carson said thickly, his eyes feasting on the enticing curve of breast above the red velvet.

“Please, if we are to be friends, you must call me Mara,” she invited with a seductive smile now curving her lips.

“Mara,” he repeated, his eyes glowing with the privilege. Under the heady excitement he dared to reach out and touch her cheek in a light caress. “Would you dance with me, Mara?”

Mara nodded slightly. Setting down her untouched goblet, she moved into his embrace and they joined the dancers.

Nicholas watched as the two figures moved past him, his green eyes never leaving the red-velvet figure as she waltzed around the room, her slender ankles showing every so often. Nicholas had seen the intimate gesture made by that besotted fool and felt a strange anger rise in him. As he watched her smile up at the flushed face of Carson Ashford, he saw the old Mara, the seductress out to ensnare some poor, unsuspecting, lovesick man’s heart. Carson Ashford, no matter how accomplished a rake he thought himself, didn’t stand a chance if Mara set out to capture his affections. Just a look from those sultry, golden eyes could make a man burn, his lusts eating away at him until he would gladly give his life to feel the soft, fullness of her lips beneath his. Wearing that damned red dress like a matador waving a red cape at an enraged bull, she dared a man to take what he wanted.

Nicholas’s eyes traveled on to the golden head of Amaryllis. She was still a very beautiful woman. He had wondered about her all these years, sometimes even imagining them together. But now that he was here, and there was a very real possibility of that happening, he found that Amaryllis left him cold. What he had found attractive and maddening as a hot-blooded young man, no longer had the ability to arouse him.

Mara O’Flynn’s delicate scent remained strong in his memory despite the cloying fragrance Amaryllis wore. When he kissed Amaryllis, he felt none of that wildfire sweetness he did when caressing Mara. Could he possibly be in
love
with Mara? In sudden amazement, he felt jealous rage whip through him. Carson Ashford was pressing his hot lips against Mara’s ear. Nicholas’s smile widened, but it was not a nice smile. What a weapon he’d be putting into Mara’s hands if she knew he had fallen for her, just like all the other fools.

Nicholas shook his dark head. She must not know. He would be a fool if he let himself fall prey to Mara. For how could he ever know what she truly felt? Would she be merely seeking revenge against him if he revealed his feelings to her? No matter what she might say, he would always have doubt.

With a purposeful stride he made his way through the dancing couples to where Mara and her ardent admirer were waltzing, and with a cavalier tap on the shorter man’s shoulder, he cut in, taking Mara away from her gaping-mouthed partner before he could raise an argument.

“You seem to have found yet another lapdog to amuse you, my sweet,” Nicholas said softly as his arms tightened around her waist. He brought her closer than was considered proper even for the waltz.

Mara stared up at his strong chin and profile. “No less amusin’ than the little cat you’ve been stroking all evening,” Mara retorted shortly, still smarting from what she had witnessed.

Nicholas glanced down. “Jealous? I think I shall have to beware of
your
claws rather than Amaryllis’s.”

Mara looked away, refusing to be baited. “Don’t be absurd. I should have to care about you to feel jealousy, and since I’ve no great passion for your kisses, nor patience to stand in line for them, the whole idea is ridiculous,” she said.

Mara nearly lost her step as Nicholas suddenly swung her around, his hand tightening painfully around her fingers as his other hand bit into her waist. Mara glared up at him impotently, wondering why he should react so strangely. Then, glancing around, she saw Amaryllis dancing closely in Edward Ashford’s arms and knew Nicholas must be feeling the pangs of jealousy as he saw his beloved laughing up into the rich American’s face.

It was nearly dawn when, despite Amaryllis’s pleas that they stay for an early breakfast, they headed back to Beaumarais. Mara stared tiredly for a few minutes out of the carriage window and into the chilly darkness of the early morning hours.

Beaumarais was in silent darkness as well when they pulled up before the entrance, having let Etienne out near his quarters. As their carriage came to a halt, the front door was thrown wide and a welcoming stream of light spread across the wide steps as the butler stood patiently awaiting them.

“Go on to bed, Daniel,” Nicholas ordered the grizzle-haired old man who managed, despite the lateness of the hour, to stand rigidly erect. “Send everyone else to bed as well. We won’t need them.”

Daniel nodded, and Mara thought he seemed to give a sigh of relief. But like Jamie, his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit even to himself that he might be tired. Only Nicole’s ebullience was showing no signs of faltering as she hurried up the staircase, still humming one of the waltz tunes from the evening.

“Oh, mademoiselle,” Nicole cried out, making no effort to lower her voice. “I have no one to unhook me. Could you possibly be so kind and assist me?” she asked with her small hand raised beseechingly.

Mara sighed. Turning back toward Nicole, she left Nicholas.

“Oh, mademoiselle, it was magnificent,
n’est-ce pas?
” Nicole breathed excitedly as she spun around the room she shared with the sleeping Damaris, whose auburn head was barely visible beneath the silk comforter. “I shall give wonderful parties like that when I am mistress of my own home. We do not have so many here anymore. But once, Beaumarais was famous for its balls and grand picnics on the lawns.”

Mara quickly and efficiently unhooked the chattering Nicole from her gown. With a warning to go to sleep before her beauty faded, she left Nicole frantically struggling into her nightdress as she shot worried glances into the mirror.

It wasn’t until Mara had nearly reached her own room that she realized that without Belle she would have the devil of a time unhooking herself. She wasn’t about to disturb Jamie. Mara was reaching out to open her door when a tanned hand closed over the doorknob ahead of hers and Nicholas pushed open her door, stepping aside politely for her to precede him into the room.

Mara eyed him suspiciously for a moment as she stood in the middle of the doorway.

“It grows late,” Nicholas spoke quietly.

“I’m well aware of that, m’sieu, so I shall bid you good night,” Mara returned just as softly as she swept past him and into her room.

“And do you intend to sleep in that damned dress?” Nicholas inquired. Closing the door behind him, he followed Mara into the room. Mara turned around in surprise at his tone. He seemed to be looking for a chance to argue. “I’m tired, Nicholas, and I have no intention of engaging in a senseless quarrel with you. You may either assist me, or not, but I’m going to bed.”

“Indeed, my dear,” Nicholas said very softly, “that is exactly what I had in mind.”

Mara felt his hands unhook her gown and then move to the clasp of the ruby necklace. Mara removed the earrings and bracelets and, turning around, handed them to him. “Thank you, Nicholas. It was an honor to wear them this evening,” she surprised him by saying graciously.

Nicholas nodded slightly, and then, without even bothering to say good night, he walked from the room. Mara bit her trembling lips, then quickly disrobed, spending several minutes brushing her long hair free of tangles, until it spread out over her shoulders in smooth waves. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment before getting up and padding in her bare feet over to the long French windows. Pulling aside the heavy drapery, Mara stared out into the blackness of the night. She heard a distant sound of thunder, then a flash of lightning cut through the sky overhead. Mara shivered. Letting the curtain fall back in place, she untied the sash around her waist and tossed her silk robe across a nearby chair before climbing into bed. The cold sheets caused her to shiver again.

“Shall I warm you up, my sweet?” Nicholas spoke quietly from the darkness of the room. Then he was there in the bed beside her, his warm body pressing against hers and warming her as he had promised.

“Nicholas,” Mara murmured in surprise as she felt his hot breath against her face, then his caressing hands moving with familiar boldness over her breasts and hips. “Ni—” Mara began, only to have his name smothered as his mouth took hers in a long arousing kiss.

“So you feel no passion for my kisses?” he whispered as he lifted his mouth from her parted lips. His hands roved over her and entwined in her long hair, twisting the silken strands through his fingers as he held her face captive and rained kiss after kiss across it, closing her eyes with the touch of his lips as Mara became drugged with sensuous pleasure.

***

The fire in the hearth was little more than smoldering ashes as Mara stared into the dusky silence of the room. The only sound she heard was the deep breathing of Nicholas beside her, his head heavy against her breasts as he slept peacefully. Mara rubbed her cheek against the softness of his hair, and moving slightly, she felt his warm body pressed closely along the length of hers.

“Oh, I do love you, Nicholas,” Mara whispered, her lips moving in a caress against his hair before her thoughts grew drowsy and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

***

Nicholas pushed back his chair and stretched. The last drawer of his father’s desk, and still no sign of a diary or a will. He stood up and, walking over to the windows, stared out morosely on the wet lawn. The storm had struck them early this morning, and for most of the day it had been raining steadily, but now there was a break in the clouds to the south and it looked as if the storm was over.

“Uncle Nicholas?” Paddy said hesitantly from the doorway.

Nicholas smiled as he turned and met Paddy’s huge brown eyes. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could set up my soldiers in here. I can’t play in my room ’cause they’re all in there dusting and cleaning and giggling,” Paddy added in disgust. “They kept knocking over my troops, then setting them up in the wrong position. Besides, you’ve got a fire in here. It’s nice and warm,” he added with a wistful look at the crackling flames.

“Go ahead,” Nicholas consented. “I’m through for now, but don’t touch my desk,” he warned as Paddy hurried into the room with his treasured box of soldiers beneath his arm.

“I promise,” Paddy said excitedly as he fell to his knees and began to unload his armies.

Nicholas watched for a moment in amusement, remembering how much enjoyment he had once had playing with toy soldiers. Then as he recognized the arrogant tilt of Paddy’s small dark head as he stationed his generals along the front line of his troops, he remembered another dark head of the night before and knew he’d never trade his pleasures of the present for those of childhood.

Nicholas moved into the hall, intent upon finding himself a brandy, when he heard laughter. Recognizing the amused voice, he followed the sound into the parlor. He paused as he saw Mara sitting beside Etienne on the sofa, a cup of tea raised to the lips he’d devoured with his the night before. There was no visible sign of his possession of her, and suddenly he felt irritated by her coolness and apparent inviolability. One would think she were as innocent as a nun, Nicholas thought resentfully as he watched her sitting, so demurely, in a plain silver gray merino dress.

“I was just telling Mara about Lady Annabelle who drank too much and fell into the Grand Canal in Venice. No one missed her, you see, and so the gondola continued on without her. Luckily, before she could drown, another gondola came along and rescued her. Only it was filled with vegetables and farm animals being brought in for sale. It was quite a sight, my dear,” Etienne chuckled with remembered delight, “for she was such an obnoxious harridan anyway, and after that no one could quite look her in the face without seeing those pens of squealing pigs all around her.”

Nicholas poured himself a brandy and sat perched along the arm of the sofa, his thigh riding next to Mara’s shoulder, his arm lying along the back of the sofa and just touching her neck. “Doesn’t Mara remind you, Etienne, of one of those Italian beauties painted centuries ago?” Nicholas said conversationally. Mara was sensitive to the biting quality in his voice. “Someone who is part Madonna, and part—” Nicholas paused, listening intently for a moment before getting to his feet. The sound of horses’ hooves and barking dogs grew closer. Nicholas opened the French windows and stepped outside as a young boy ran up to him. The fellow pointed out to the drive where a group of riders sat impatiently calming their mounts. Mara glanced at Etienne questioningly, but he shrugged his shoulders and, with a wry grimace, got to his feet to see what the commotion was about. He led Mara out onto the gallery. They stood slightly behind Nicholas, staring at the group of riders and hounds.

One of the riders broke free from the others when she spotted Nicholas and rode up closer to the gallery. “Care to join us?” Amaryllis invited.

“What are you hunting?” Nicholas asked softly, his eyes registering distaste as he eyed the heavy-set riders who seemed to be in charge of the baying hounds. Several of her guests from the night before were in this party, including Carson Ashford, who was valiantly trying to catch Mara’s eye.

“Runaways,” Amaryllis pronounced in cold contempt. “A whole family of them took off late last night. They can’t have gotten far, and these hounds have already gotten their scent. I’ll have them in less than an hour,” she predicted. A hard light grew in her pale eyes as she snapped a wicked-looking whip against her gloved palm.

“I think not,” Nicholas replied as he indolently leaned against one of the columns.

“You haven’t changed, Nicholas,” Amaryllis spoke disparagingly, shaking her head. “You never did like tracking down runaways. Of course, I do prefer hunting fox. It’s a much more exciting chase, for at least the fox has some chance of escape and gives us a good race. But these fools just stumble through the swamp leaving a trail a mile wide behind them, and if the gators don’t get them, I always do. It’s no contest at all.