Chapter 9

Nicholas shrugged out of his jacket and threw it upon the chair by the fireplace. A soft muffled sound, followed by the movement of the garment, had him peering over the back of the chair. He picked up his coat and saw a small ginger tabby kitten curled up in a fur ball of fluff. Its tail twitched.

“Mew.”

The poor little thing was the color of marmalade, with dark stripes from the tips of its ears to the end of its tail. Bright green eyes stared up at him.

“Mew,” the kitten repeated.

Nicholas had always been fonder of dogs than cats, but he picked up the animal all the same. “Where did you come from?” he asked.

Blanche would just love this little baby to coddle. The small beast began to purr ferociously, content when Nicholas began to scratch behind its ears.

Nicholas tugged at his cravat with his free hand until he heard a soft knock at his door. Unsure who was disturbing him, he went to the door to open it, and the feline took the opportunity to scamper out of his arms and out the door.

The fact that the kitten decided not to remain in his company was hardly something to be concerned about. The lady who stood at his open door, however, was.

He frowned. Apparently the silent signals he had been giving the woman were not clear enough, since she now took a chance of being found out by knocking at his door at this hour.

“Grace…” Her name came out of his mouth before he could take the word back.

“Nicholas…” His name, as it passed her lips, almost caused his heart to stop its beating.

He opened the door wider to let her decide if she would enter or not. Apparently he was a glutton for punishing himself because he had no idea what the hell he was doing allowing her entrance into his bedroom of all places.

Grace hesitated, but only an instant, before she took a step forward and then several more. Making her way toward the fireplace, she turned to face him and he realized her purpose. His missing jacket was held in her hands. She appeared reluctant to return the garment to its rightful owner, given that she was caressing the fabric with her fingertips as though it was a most prized possession.

“Why are you here, Lady de Courtenay?” he choked out, still surprised that the married woman who had occupied his thoughts both night and day was truly standing in his room.

Grace held out his garment. “I thought it was well past time I return this to you,” she murmured in a soft purr much like the kitten that had just departed for parts unknown.

Nicholas stepped forward. “You could have easily had a servant deliver it.”

“Yes, I suppose I could have, but then I would not have the opportunity to right the wrong between us. I do not understand why you are so angry with me.”

Nicholas, at last, came to his senses, seeing that she continued holding his coat for him to take. “I am angrier with myself than with you,” he growled out like a wounded animal.

He made a grab for his jacket, and, when he did so, their fingers brushed, sending a wave of heat through him in a downward spiral. A part of Nicholas sprang to life, giving evidence how much he wanted the woman before him. He warred within himself as his mind made some feeble attempt to rationalize his desire to remain aloof.

“You should not be here, Grace. No good can come of your presence here.” He turned his back to her, not trusting himself to refrain from pulling her into his arms and bed.

The foolish woman surely had no sense. If she had, then she would not have had the nerve to place her hand upon his shoulder. Heat seared straight to his heart, and other places farther south.

Nicholas whirled around so quickly Grace barely had time to take a breath, let alone sound an alarm. He captured her about her waist until he maneuvered her up against the door. She let out a startled gasp when he pressed himself intimately against her. There was no way she could mistake the desire he felt for her. The sound of her heavy breathing took away whatever last bit of sense he had. He lowered his head to ensnare her lips beneath his own.

This was no gentle kiss like their first had been. No, this was a possession… fire colliding with ice. The first taste was all consuming heat and passion. A devouring of two souls who were meant to be together, yet were parted by circumstances beyond their control. A beginning and an end all wrapped up into one delicious kiss that had Nicholas wishing it would never end, wishing that Grace was his.

His hands reached up and began pulling the pins from her coiffure until her heavenly locks tumbled down in a silken display of seduction. He had been right about her hair cascading well below her waist, and his fingers threaded through the length much like he had dreamed about doing night after night.

He deepened their kiss, and a soft groan escaped her. Such an echo of his own emotions gave Nicholas the confirmation he needed to prove once and for all that Grace was just as affected as he was. Her hands stroked his back while his muscles bulged from her touch, and he knew he had reached his limit of sanity where Grace was concerned. She belonged with him!

No. That thought was all wrong for so many reasons. She would never be his, for Grace belonged to another. With that thought screaming across his mind, he tore his lips from hers. A small piece of him felt vindicated when she appeared disappointed that their kiss would not continue.

“You need to leave before I forget I am a gentleman and take what I know you are not truly offering by being here,” he ordered harshly, pushing away from her.

She took ahold of his arms. “Nicholas, please, I can explain everything if you would but listen to what─”

“Enough of this, Grace. You come to my room in the dead of night, alone. I am only a man, for God’s sake, and even I have a shred of chivalry left in me to know that I will not take another man’s wife.”

Her hand placed on his chest was once more his downfall as the warmth of her fingers came in contact with his skin at the opening of his shirt. He stood still as any statue, until her hand moved upward and around his neck to play with the hair that touched his collar. “Nicholas,” she whispered in a tone that broke his resolve, “you do not understand. I am not─”

“Mine,” he snapped. “You will never be mine, and I refuse to be put in the position of fighting a duel with a man who would have every right to call me out for you just being here.”

“If you would just listen to me, I can explain the situation. It is not what you think,” she cried out.

“I understand exactly what this is,” he declared angrily as he pushed her back up against the door. “We had a brief interlude at a party a while back. You are obviously displeased with your husband and are looking once more for a distraction from whatever bores you in your life.”

“That is not what I am looking for.” She gasped.

“Then perhaps you are searching for this,” he fumed as he lost control. His head once more swooped down to taste her lips.

He had meant such a kiss to be a sort of punishment for torturing him, but the moment she leaned into his body, everything changed from demanding to gentle. She was driving him mad, and if he did not do something to stop, the next thing he would be doing was declaring his love for a married woman.

He once more ripped his lips from hers and ran light kisses down her neck. Her breathing escalated, much like his own. He pressed himself fully against her again, and her gasp was like sweet music to his ears. There could be no mistaking how much he wanted her.

“Is this why you are here, Grace?” he murmured softly in her ear. He took delight in holding her just one last time before he must let her go forever.

“Yes… I-I mean, n-no; that is not why I am here,” she stuttered.

He pulled back from her and leaned down so he could stare directly into her eyes. “Then stop acting as though you wish to become my mistress and go back to your husband. I am sure he is more than capable of satisfying you tonight.”

Her slap across his cheek resonated in the room. She could deliver quite the punch, and Nicholas knew he deserved the set down that was coming considering her furious flushed face.

“You insufferable boor. How dare you speak to me that way? I do not know why I ever had the slightest inclination to right the misunderstanding between us.”

He ignored her outburst and placed a quick kiss upon her lips. “Come to my room again, and I will take that as an open invitation you wish to warm my bed. Now get out,” he demanded opening the door.

“I would not warm your bed if you were the last man on earth, Lord Nicholas Lacey,” she hissed.

With brown eyes blazing, she swept from the room and out of Nicholas’s life, a yellow tabby kitten following her down the hallway. As Grace rounded the corner out of sight, the kitten looked back in Nicholas’ direction as though she had found a new owner. The blasted cat had the nerve to raise its little head as though snubbing Nicholas on Grace’s behalf.

“Mew!” the kitten called to him and then followed in its new mistress’s wake.