He shook his head as if to clear it and gestured with a thumb toward the door. “The manservant…wrong room, obviously. Er, I…oh, hell!” He scrubbed his hands over his face, sighed. He looked so tired. “I apologize for the intrusion. I’ll find another—”
“Don’t go,” she said before she could stop herself, and then felt her face flame. Perhaps she could sound a bit more desperate. “I…I wasn’t asleep,” she added quickly. “’Tis late, Nicholas. We both need our rest and…” Was she truly saying these things or had Minerva once more taken control of her mouth?
Then Nicholas cocked his head, looked at her in that manner he had, and she knew that her thoughts were her own.
“Any matter,” she continued. “’Tis not as if we’ve never shared a bed before. Completely innocently, of course.”
Nicholas continued to stare at her. “This is true. But I have no wish to make you uncomfortable, Simone. Are you certain this is wise?”
“Nay,” she answered truthfully.
He stepped closer to her, and Simone could see the outline of his body through his thin undershirt, the firelight behind him causing him to glow.
“Itisa large bed,” he said at last.
Simone bit her lip. “Plenty of room.”
He walked to the side of the bed—his sideof the bed. “A bed of that size, ’tis unlikely we’d even touch.”
“Highly unlikely,” Simone agreed. “And we’ll both be gone at first light, any matter.”
“Bright and early,” Nicholas said. He was staring at her hungrily now, his shoulders jerking as he kicked off his boots. “Perhaps we could talk a bit, since you seemed to be having trouble sleeping.”
“Yea, let’s talk.” Simone felt gooseflesh spring over her arms as if coaxed by his gaze. “How…” She cleared her throat. “How did you find Lord Bartholomew’s execution?”
“Oh, quite lovely.” Nick pulled his undershirt over his head. “Simone, I want you.”
Her breath left her in a combination of a sob and a laugh. Those words…priceless.
“We’re no longer married, Nicholas,” she said, the argument sounding inane and empty to her own ears.
“I beg to differ,” Nicholas murmured, his hands dropping to the ties at his waist. “Although on the morrow we will go our separate ways, until the dawn’s light, you are very much still my wife, and I would take this night to love you as I should have loved you all along.”
Simone’s body trembled, her stomach clenched.Oh, thank you God. Thank you, thank you, thank you…
She held the coverings aside, inviting him in with a smile.
Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you…
Nick went immediately to her, gripping her tiny waist through the thin gown with both hands, taking her mouth and kissing her like he would devour her.
And she kissed him back, first holding his shoulders and then wrapping her arms completely around his neck.
“You taste…like…Heaven,” he mumbled, his tongue flicking out to taste her lips. The effects of drink had left him, but Simone’s intoxicating presence left him drunker than before. He nuzzled her neck, pushed her gown off her shoulder with his cheek, tasted her there.
She sighed, arched into him. “Nick. Oh, I have missed you.”
“And I you,” he replied, dragging the hem of her night rail up her leg and over her hip, clutching her buttock and pulling her against his erection. “I am so sorry, Simone. All the wasted time, and now you’ll be gone from me.”
“Shhh,” she whispered, kissing his neck where the shadows of bruises ringed him still. “There is no help for what is past. Let us be content with tonight, as if there were no tomorrow.”
He raised his head to look into her eyes. “I love you, Simone. Is that not enough to make you stay?”
She smiled sadly, and again Nick thought she looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she ran her hand down his front to grasp his manhood and rub it over the hot length of the cleft between her legs. Nick gasped and jerked.
“It is enough for tonight,” she said.
Anger filled him then, mingled with his raging love for the woman beneath him. He stared down into her face—so beautiful, so filled with passion—and sat back on his haunches. “Whose gown is this?”
