hear the rumble of thunder. It is the absolute best time to snuggle into my bed or a large armchair and read,” she murmured, lowering her hand. “Sometimes I stand by my windows and watch as the rain falls to the ground, and against the leaves. I love hearing the sound of it on the roof.”
They slowed as they approached a large puddle. Maryann barely restrained her gasp when his hand snaked around her waist, lifted her, and walked through the puddle. Then he lowered her to her feet.
“You do know we could have walked around it.”
His lips tipped in a small smile. “And deny myself such a pleasure?”
By the time they crossed the third puddle, Maryann was giggling.
“You have a beautiful laugh. I enjoy hearing it.”
She couldn’t help it. Maryann faltered and peered up at him.
“Do not be so startled that I find you beautiful.”
She said no more as he drew her closer to his side, protecting her with the umbrella against the sleeting rain.
“Let’s get you home.”
They continued on, and whenever they encountered a puddle, he would lift her over them with masculine ease. By the time she reached her home, Maryann was breathless with want.
“My parents have gone to a ball. And Crispin is at his club.”
“It is still safer to enter from a side door. I’ll pick the lock if need be.”
Nicolas led her around to the gardens and opened a terraced door leading into the ballroom. She rushed from under the umbrella into the room and turned to face him. Rain ran in rivulets down his forehead, and his eyes gleamed with an emotion she was unable to decipher.
“Thank you for taking me into your confidence,” she said, hoping he would hear her above the patter of the rain and the soft rumbles of thunder.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Maryann closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his cold lips against her skin. His mouth disappeared, and when she opened her eyes, it was to see the back of him walking away. She gently closed the door, resting her forehead against the glass pane for a few seconds.
Maryann hurriedly left the ballroom, traversed the long, empty hallway and then the winding staircase to the second floor. An odd awareness went down her spine, and with each step, her heart pounded, not with alarm but with an unbearable shivering excitement.
At her door, Maryann closed her eyes and sent up a silent entreaty—please…please. She twisted the knob of her door and entered her chamber. She scented him first, and his flavor was one of wild, dark, beautiful fire. Her gaze found him unerringly. He stood by the window, the now-folded black umbrella held loosely in his hand and dripping water on the carpet. She did not care.
He leaned the umbrella against the wall and shrugged from his coat, walking to rest it on the fireguard by the fireplace. His hair was wet and clung to his forehead, his eyes piercing and so intent on her.
“I…heard a rumor that I was not brave enough to ask you about earlier,” she started.
“Ask me.”
“The gossip says that you are about to procure yourself a mistress.”
He froze. “It was a rumor I hinted at some days ago while visiting White’s.”
Everything inside her rejected the very idea. It made no rational sense, but she accepted the burning absurdity of her emotions. “To complete your persona of a libertine? Or because you need a woman?”
His brow lifted at her boldness. “It would be another scheme, to prove I have no attachment to a young lady of quality.”
“So, this mistress will be to protect me?”
“Yes.”
She softly scoffed.
“Do I detect derision?”
“Will this lady be a mistress in name only?”
He thought about this. “I had not decided when I dropped the hints here and there.”
“Don’t you dare!”
The words lashed from her before she thought about his plan in its entirety.
Raw peril coated the silence that fell in her bedchamber. He said nothing, and Maryann did not rush to fill the quiet, merely stared at the crackling fireplace, painfully aware of his gaze upon her.
“I dare not,” he quietly said. “Please be assured that scheme is now dismissed.”
A gust of wind swept through the room and she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“Unbearably so.”
He looked at the dying embers in the hearth. “There’s no log to rekindle the fire.”
“The servants believe me to be at the ball. We are expected home in the morning. A servant will come up here at the break of dawn