the Black Art.
It required patience.
It also required a swift and sharp-witted mind… and a steady hand.
“All the things you have,” he’d whispered in her ear, as if anyone could hear them.
How her heart had soared, for in Nicolas she found a man who would make her fly and soar above expectations and restrictions. “The household sleeps,” she’d whispered right back.
“We cannot be too careful.”
That was said temptingly near her mouth, but he hadn’t kissed her.
Maryann smiled when the lock on the door to the library snicked and opened. She stood and faced him, holding up her hairpin. “I did it,” she whispered. “And with this.”
Because he’d taught her that one of the most necessary skills was to be inventive.
“You’ve still a long way to go, but you did well, my lady.”
“And you’ll teach it all to me?”
“Yes. When you have learned much more, I’ll introduce you to the Chubb Detector Lock. They say it cannot be picked by anyone. What a grand time we’ll have trying. I can see it now, an afternoon by the lake, on blankets with wine, and a Chubb Detector Lock before us and our nefarious and most brilliant minds trying to pick it.”
She grinned. “And you’ll still respect me in the morning?”
“I’ll respect you even more.”
And in his tone she heard the rich admiration and pleasure. Maryann’s breath hitched. It is you, she silently whispered.
The man who had been hovering in the shadows of her dreams, the one whom she hungered for, but he had always seemed like an impossible craving. Nicolas would catch her if she overreached in her recklessness, and do more, protect her while allowing her to live. He would not see her desires as unladylike.
“And if I want to discuss politics?” she murmured, leaning against the door that had swung back closed.
He stepped in closer, so he was right there, his body brushing the front of her nightgown.
He feathered his thumb across her bottom lip. “Then we’ll discuss it—and I’ll fervently pray we are on the same side.”
Maryann laughed, the sound tinkling in the empty hallway. This was the man who would let her be herself, appreciate the things she was good at, talk about difficult subjects with her, and hopefully love her.
The need for that burned inside her with the ferocity of a storm.
“What if I wanted to travel?”
“Then you…we will do so in grand style. I am very wealthy. We might have to take the hellions, though.”
Pleasure burst inside Maryann’s chest. “I am happy you would not constrain your sisters.”
“Why would I? I would like for them to also be racoons.”
Maryann scowled, and before she could say “lioness,” he caught her mouth with his in a burning kiss. With a soft moan, she wrapped her hands around his nape, reveling in the pleasure in his embrace. Still kissing her, he lifted her in his arms, and with a gasp she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles at his back.
Without releasing her mouth from his intoxicating kisses, Nicolas mounted the stairs with effortless ease to her chamber. It took some fumbling to get the door open, and she lifted her lips from his, panting. He all but stumbled with her over to the bed, where he dropped her into the center. Maryann came onto her knees, staring at him, waiting with her heart pounding. His gaze dropped from her eyes, to her shoulders, and then to her breast straining through her nightgown. Her body ached for his touch.
He whirled around, and without saying a word, departed her chamber. Maryann stared at her closed door in astonishment.
So much for being a rake!
Grabbing the pillow, she threw it at the door, only for Nicolas to come back inside at the same time. The thick pillow smacked him firmly in the face. Maryann’s mouth fell opened and she stared at Nicolas, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise. He glanced at the pillow on the ground and back at her.
“Racoons do that,” she said, dissolving into laughter.
The beginning of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and in a few strides he was there, dragging her up against him to kiss her. His touch hinted at restrained hunger, but the press of his mouth to hers was tender…beckoning, a whisper of desire. With a soft sigh, she parted her lips and slid her tongue against his. Before she could respond properly, he murmured against her lips, “Have a good sleep, Maryann.”
Then he turned around and left once more.
She dropped