in the street to speed up his horses. Harry tried to follow the carriage but lost ’em.”
The shock and fear that tore through Nicolas rendered him silent. Did I do this by dancing with you, by being too obvious with my attraction? A deadly calm settled over Nicolas. “Was she hurt?”
“No, just badly shaken up.”
“Have you kept watch?”
“Harry was sitting on her house, and he reported that the family is headed to a ball. He followed the carriage to a Countess Lauriston’s home.” Report completed, Jenkins melted away, drawing his hat lower over his forehead, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
Nicolas did not enter his home, but turned around, and made his way to Lady Lauriston’s abode. Lady Maryann would not be a lady overset by nerves or such nonsense, and that she would attend a ball suggested she was unruffled.
Nicolas still needed to determine for himself she was well. After the raw, provoking dreams he’d been having of her, he would ensure he did not go off alone with her. A quick chat on the terrace or out in the gardens would do, then he would watch and see that she returned to the safety of the ballroom.
Do not go, something in him urged. Ensure you are never alone with her, even for a damn minute, it warned. But Nicolas could not fight the compulsion to go to her, and deep inside it shook him to know he did not want to examine the reasons why.
Chapter Fifteen
Somehow Maryann knew Nicolas would come to her tonight.
She sat in her bed, her back leaned against the large headboard, her feet folded beneath her. The room was well lit, with a gas lamp and a roaring fire in the hearth. The book she had tried to distract herself with had been placed by the small desk to her left. And she waited.
More than an hour had passed since she had ceased pretending to read, and by the chime of the long grandfather clock in the hallway, it was just about nine in the evening. After supper she had pled a headache and retired to her room, while the earl and countess departed an hour past to attend a ball. Crispin had headed off to his club, and the rest of the household slept.
She stiffened as a shadow passed by her window. Heart pounding, Maryann eased from the bed, and leaned against the bedpost. The window groaned but did not budge. Though she had anticipated his presence, Maryann would not leave her windows open. She had latched them firmly closed since he stopped visiting her after that first week.
Curious to see how he would bypass the latch when it was inside her room, she waited. Maryann could not tell if he was really there, or if it was her fanciful yearnings. She climbed onto the bed and lay on her side, her hand pillowed beneath her cheek as she watched the windows. A yawn startled her, and she admitted the agitation of the day and the mild headache after had exhausted her more than she’d anticipated. The ticking of the clock on her mantel revealed the slow passage of time. Her lashes fluttered closed, and she slipped away in a dreamless sleep.
I am no longer alone.
That was the first thought to enter Maryann’s mind as the unknown disturbance roused her to full awareness.
He’s here.
A faint stirring of pleasure or perhaps anticipation curled through Maryann, and suddenly, the beat of her heart was felt in every part of her body.
The gas lamp had been turned off, and the fireplace burned low in the grate. A silvery beam of moonlight spilled into the room, filtering through the lace curtains. She snapped her gaze to the windows, which remained closed. But she could feel his presence in her room. “How did you get inside?” she whispered without seeing him. That she could feel the power of his gaze upon her was enough.
The bed dipped ever so slightly, and with a gasp, she lurched upright and turned in the direction she felt the movement. She did not expect him to be sitting on her bed. That felt remarkably intimate and perilous. The marquess’s powerful form was seated on the bottom of her bed, his shoulders resting against the bedpost.
A shadow of a smile crossed his lips and his eyes gleamed with something wicked and predatory. A knowledge passed between them that she wore his mark. That very spot ached and throbbed as if reacting