Lennox, Mary - Heart of Fire.txt Read online

“Oh, bother your scruples!” said Katherine glumly. “I’ll

  simply have to lie to him, myself. Where is your mirror? Don’t

  you dare tell me you haven’t a mirror somewhere!” Frantically

  pinching her cheeks, Katherine leaned over the little bedside

  table and looked into the small looking glass Sera placed there

  for her.

  “That’s it,” she said with satisfaction. “If I run all the way

  back to the palace, my cheeks will be on fire and I’ll be

  breathless. A sudden case of something or other—palpitations,

  maybe. I must hurry before I’m caught out. Nikki is terribly

  clever, blast him.” Katherine paused on her way to the door.

  “You don’t have to lie, Sera. Just don’t say anything that

  will make him disapprove of me.”

  Sera gave her reassuring smile. “I promise.”

  ***

  Nicholas strolled toward the stable feeling the smile on his

  face widen into a grin. Something definitely was afoot. He knew

  immediately, of course, that Katherine’s flushed face and

  breathlessness were self-induced. She’d barely had time to sprint

  back when he’d accosted her in the courtyard. He anticipated a

  miracle cure when she discovered that he had just requested the

  pastry chef serve iced gateaux with tea.

  He was looking forward to his ride now more than ever.

  Katherine was one subject both he and Sera could discuss

  without making the issue a spitting contest between them. He

  entered the stable near the alcove where Sera’s chamber lay.

  Momentarily adjusting his eyes to the darkness inside, he sought

  out her room.

  He’d made it his business to know its location as soon as

  he had discovered she was still sleeping in the stable. Standing

  before the door, he placed his hand on it in a light, unconscious

  caress of the warm oak. Before he could knock, the door, not

  completely latched, swung open.

  He saw Sera then. She sat straight-backed upon a chair, her

  loose linen gown flowing about her body. Sunlight from an open

  window poured down upon her like a stream as she plaited her

  long hair. Each strand seemed made of living gold. He stood in

  the shadowed aisle watching her, knowing that he had no right

  to spy like some obsessed degenerate skulking in shadows. But

  he was helpless to stop.

  She must have felt his scrutiny, for she quickly tied the

  braid with a blue ribbon and glanced his way. The swiftness

  with which she rose to face him and the wary look on her face

  saddened him.

  He cleared his throat. “Katherine has developed a most

  inconvenient case of the grippe,” he told her, watching her glide

  toward him, her gown flowing against her in the sudden breeze.

  “I hope you’ll take me as a substitute today.”

  Sera inclined her head. “I shall saddle your horse, Nicholas

  Rostov.”

  Why must she pretend to be a servant when everything about

  her screamed aristocrat, damnit? He took her arm to stop her

  from slipping past him and kept the irritation he felt from his

  voice. “The grooms will saddle my horse and yours, Sera. I

  hear he now tolerates others near him.”

  She looked down at her hands folded in front of her. “Very

  well,” she said. “I’ll go and ask them.”

  “I have already ordered it done.”

  Nicholas waited with Sera in the stable yard. She looked

  everywhere but at him, and Nicholas quite clearly heard her

  sigh of relief when Ned and another of the grooms brought the

  horses forward. Her bright chestnut wore no saddle, at all.

  Nicholas moved to assist her in mounting, only to find her

  already sitting astride the chestnut with the reins in her hands.

  His eyes widened, but he said nothing before the others.

  When they had left the yard far behind them, he walked his

  horse close to hers. “I suppose you’ve been teaching Katherine

  to ride like this,” he said, his eyes glued to the sight of a trim,

  booted ankle peeking from beneath her skirts.

  “She only does so in the privacy of the park, Nicholas

  Rostov. And only for as long as it takes her to learn balance.

  She plans to ride sidesaddle as soon as she’s confident enough.”

  “Is she doing well?”

  “Very well.” The sun illuminated Sera’s face and left him

  feeling tongue-tied as a young boy with his first dancing partner.

  Funny, when he was away from Sera, he never thought

  consciously of her beauty. He was too obsessed with visions of

  her body beneath his.

  They rode on in silence for a few moments, until Nicholas

  made an inarticulate sound of frustration. “What does she think

  I’ll do? Imprison her for riding bareback?”

  Sera’s voice was very soft. “She is afraid to disappoint you.”

  Nicholas ran his fingers through his hair. “Doesn’t she know

  that I would do anything for her?”

  “That is not the same thing at all. She wants your approval,

  not your protection.”

  Nicholas stared at Sera for a long moment. He had worked

  for so long to provide for everyone and make decisions that

  would keep them all safe. A fearsome question pricked him.

  Did he really know the first thing about Katherine or his people?

  He shook his head. “Tell me, little magician, how you

  convinced my sister that she could ride that mare when one of

  the best riding masters in Europe could not.”

  The set of her shoulders relaxed, perhaps because of his

  compliment. Maybe she liked it when he didn’t play the king.

  “Oh, it was quite easy, actually,” Sera said, slanting a look

  at him from beneath her lashes. “I don’t know how your women

  put up with those stiff things,” she said. “How can you feel the

  movements of a horse beneath you in any saddle, for that

  matter?”

  “You know,” he said. “One of the best rides I’ve ever had

  was on one of the worst nights I can remember. I daresay you

  remember little of it, but your chestnut carried both of us for

  hours to the border and beyond. He has a canter that rolls like

  waves.”

  He watched her as she stretched her hands high to the sky

  in an age-old gesture of sensuality and freedom. “Wind Rider

  is magical. At home in the hills, I ride him every day. I need to,

  for my spirit is not as calm and reasoned as it should be. But

  Wind Rider does not care whether I am filled with storms. And

  when we are through with our gallop, I am peaceful again.”

  She smiled, seemingly unaware of what she was doing to

  him, how his body was beginning to throb.

  “But Katherine only needed balance. After she learned the

  rhythm, we played tag in the clearing.” Sera pointed ahead to a

  close meadow rimmed in the gold and brown colors of the oak

  trees. “Wind Rider is fast, but that little mare is even faster. She

  wheels and veers so quickly, I fell off twice trying to escape

  Katherine.”

  Nicholas pictured two young girls full of high spirits, madly

  circling their horses and sprinting after each oth
er. “I wish I

  had been there to see it or even to play.”

  “You, Nicholas Rostov?”

  “Do you think I’m such a stuffy curmudgeon that I won’t

  even play a game of tag?” He used the full force of the Rostov

  frown, just to make her eyes flash.

  “I think you’d lose on that great war horse of yours, that’s

  what I think.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” It was a direct challenge, and from

  the way she squared her shoulders, Sera obviously knew it.

  “The one with the shortest arms gets the crop,” she said,

  and leaned into him so quickly that the whip was out of his

  hands before he could fully grasp it. She galloped toward the

  meadow full tilt, her long braid bouncing against her back with

  every lift of the horse’s haunches.

  He watched her race away, and a longing that had nothing

  to do with lust churned deep inside him, almost making him

  ache. A simple game of tag. When had he last played a game of

  any kind? For five minutes, he could do so and the world

  wouldn’t stop spinning on its axis. Just five minutes—

  Nicholas’s blood raced in his veins as he urged the horse

  on behind her. “One game, until the sun sinks just behind the

  mountain. Winner awarded one forfeit,” he shouted after her.

  She halted her horse, grinning as the chestnut pranced beneath

  her.

  “Agreed!” she called over her shoulder and wheeled the

  horse to the right, dashing to the narrow end of the clearing to

  wait, and then attack.

  It took Nicholas longer than five minutes to learn Sera’s

  strategy, and then he began to turn the tables on her. She was

  coming in closely, darting past as she aimed her crop to touch

  his shoulder, when the sun hit the rim of the mountain to the

  west.

  Nicholas grabbed the end of the crop. Something glad and

  triumphant rose in his chest. “Done,” he said, feeling the grin

  widen on his face. “I win by one point.”

  She sat the horse, flushed and vibrant, the light from the

  red-streaked sky still shining in her eyes. Her hand still held the

  other end of the crop, and her mouth made a disappointed little

  moue. Warm from effort and excitement, her skin glowed, and

  her hair curled in damp little tendrils about her temples. He

  could smell the scent of her, almost feel the creamy texture of

  the soft skin right above the prim collar of her gown. She looked

  just as she had in his dreams—sensual and enticing beyond a

  man’s daytime imaginings.

  “Winner claims the forfeit,” he said, tugging gently on the

  crop. She was stubborn, just as he had hoped she’d be, keeping

  her hold on the crop out of sheer impudence. He tugged a little

  further and she swayed forward, laughing. She was close

  enough. Nicholas snaked out an arm, swept her off her mount

  and onto his lap.

  Outraged, she opened her mouth to say something scathing,

  he was sure, but he held her hard against him, staring at her

  lips. She went still, watching him intently. Her breathing grew

  rapid, from fear or rising anticipation, he could not tell. Bending

  his head, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of horse and

  exertion, and the heady essence of Sera.

  Her lips were soft as a sigh beneath his. He had imagined

  the taste of her for so many nights, and she was sweeter than he

  had dreamed. The whole world seemed hushed. There was

  nothing left in it but the two of them. The way she fit against

  him, the way her arms lifted, twining about his neck, the small

  sound of surrender deep in her throat—all of it flashed through

  his body, and he wanted closer.

  He held a treasure to be savored slowly, and he controlled

  the rising heat. He teased her mouth with little kisses, tasting

  her sensual lower lip with his tongue. With a gasp of surprise,

  her lips parted. He took advantage, entered, and tasted the

  sweetness of her mouth with his tongue. He was certain it was

  new to her, for she froze at first, not understanding. In some

  deep, elemental way, he was glad of it, and plunged deeper,

  claiming her, branding her his. She caught fire at that, opening

  eagerly to him. A low hum of pleasure began deep in his throat.

  It was sweet, the way she clung to him. When, hesitant, she

  touched her tongue to his of her own accord, he gave a groan of

  pure, passionate joy and tugged at the ribbon holding her braid.

  It fluttered to the ground. Loose, all the warm treasure of gold

  fell around his hand as he cupped the back of her neck. She

  arched against him, pliant beneath his onslaught, trusting,

  matching his hunger, and he was undone.

  No woman had ever ignited at his touch the way she did.

  No woman had ever stoked the fire in him from a slow burn to

  the flash of heat that made him forget who he was, where he

  was…Good God!

  Very slowly, very carefully, Nicholas raised his head to look

  at Sera. Her face was flushed, her eyes were dark with passion

  and hazed as though she were spellbound. He raised a hand

  that was barely steady and stroked the tumbled hair back from

  her face. Her lips were bee-stung with his kisses. Anyone in the

  stable would know whom she had been with and what she had

  done.

  “It grows late,” he said.

  He saw the exact moment when she came back to reality.

  Even in the twilight, he could see her deep blush. “Yes. My—

  my horse.” She slipped from his arms and to the ground. The

  air felt cold against his chest.

  “We should return to the stable before they miss us.”

  Sera swung up on the chestnut’s back. She raised her chin

  and nodded once, then took up the reins and started off ahead,

  her shoulders stiff.

  Nicholas cursed himself for a randy bastard. There was no

  excuse for his actions. To take a woman whom he had sworn to

  protect when betrothed to another—he was ashamed of himself.

  Nicholas knew how to get what he wanted. He knew the art

  of persuasion and the delicate threat of force. This miracle resting

  just a moment ago in his arms could be his. And if he pushed

  her to it, she would be the one to suffer guilt, remorse, and the

  appalled stares of his courtiers. He would only feel the libertine’s

  dark satisfaction.

  Nicholas made a decision. He would see her once more

  tonight, privately. He would promise, with the utmost gentleness

  and respect, that he would not trouble her with such overtures

  again. And he would demand that she move into the palace,

  where there would be sturdy locks on her chamber door to keep

  him and every other reprobate out.

  ***

  Katherine knocked on the door to Sera’s chamber later that

  evening. “What did my brother say this afternoon?”

  Sera stared at her, a mass of confusion. She didn’t wish to

  tell anyone what had happened with Nicholas in the park. She

  had not known that so serious a man could have a smile so

  sweet that it stung deep in her chest just to look at it. How could<
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  she tell the way his gray eyes went soft and amused right before

  he kissed her for the first time?

  And the feelings, all jumbled and twanging inside her! She

  had wanted his kisses with an urgency that shocked her. Even

  more humiliating was Nicholas Rostov’s behavior after he had

  kissed her until she was clinging to him, making those animal

  sounds deep in her throat.

  The man simply froze against her, as though she were the

  wanton concubine he had originally thought her. It made her go

  red right now to remember his cold, clipped voice as she slipped

  to the ground. Blast him for trying to pretend it had never

  happened. Blast him for making her feel like the harlot she was

  not!

  The worst of it was, she’d caused the whole humiliating

  mess. From the start of the ride, she had wanted to tease

  Nicholas, to show him that she wasn’t afraid of him. It was

  rather like tempting a tiger locked safely behind cage bars, and

  then finding that the beast had gotten loose—and that he was

  inside you.

  She must not delay longer, losing her calm focus. She must

  find the way home.

  She rubbed her eyes and heard Katherine’s voice again.

  “Are you well? You look feverish.” Katherine looked at

  her with concern in her dark eyes.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” said Sera. “Now, to answer your

  question. Nicholas seemed very pleased that you were riding

  and enjoying it, and he does not care how you learn. Does that

  make you happier?” Sera started, shocked. Why was she calling

  this arrogant Outlander by his first name?

  “Very much. He was so strange at tea. He said not one word

  to me, not even when I thanked him for the lovely cakes. He

  just started and then frowned vaguely at me, but that was all.

  After tea, he walked out onto the balcony and stared at the park.

  Then, still frowning, he bade me adieu and said he had to go to

  his study. When I asked him what he was going to do, he frowned

  again and said, ‘Contemplate my sins, as any man of conscience

  would.’”

  His sins? Hah! So he saw what happened between them as

  a sin!

  “I am so afraid I disappointed Nicholas,” said Katherine,

  folding her hands before her and staring down at them. “I should

  hate to think I failed at being a sister, as I have at so many other