The thought of her whispered through his soul, and he knew exactly where he had to be.
…
Almost half an hour later, Nicolas stood in the dark gardens below Maryann’s windows. The house appeared dark, as if everyone had gone to bed. The man he had watching her still, reported the earl and countess were home along with their daughter, but the son had gone out to a ball.
Go home, the rational side of him urged. His resistance to her allure was damnably weak, and he knew he should not put her underneath him and ravish her throughout the long night. Something he feared might happen should he climb the trellis leading to her balcony.
When he’d asked her to wait for him, there had been a throb of warning in his gut, but he had pushed it aside in his need to hold and kiss her. In his long investigation, only Crispin had matched the description of the fifth party whom Farringdon had traveled with that fateful day ten years ago. Except the viscount was not friends with the entire group and Nicolas could not find out why.
What had caused the break in friendship…if there had been a friendship?
Nicolas had probed and even asked directly if they were familiar with him, and they had denied the connection. Yet, Crispin had attended Oxford with the sorry lot, and he had been in Wiltshire at the time.
What if…just what if her brother really turned out to be the black Dahlia, and Nicolas was here asking her for promises?
Only last night, his investigators presented another gentleman who might be the black Dahlia. Nicolas had thought it unlikely, but for Maryann’s sake and his, ordered his men to do a thorough investigation.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. The tug to climb those vines and trellises beat relentlessly at him. He once again reminded himself, “He who conquers others is strong, but he who conquers himself is mighty.”
He was about to walk away when her windows were gently opened, and her silhouette framed the space. She did not linger but walked away. It was an invitation. Fuck!
I’ll not kiss her, he vowed. If I do not kiss her, all will be well.
After a careful look to ensure no one else was about, Nicolas grabbed the trellis leading to her window and efficiently climbed up to her balcony, thankful the trellis had creepers and not climbing roses riddled with thorns.
When he slipped through the windows and stood, it was to see her in the center of her room. She appeared delightfully rosy sheathed in a pale pink gown with a ribbon tied around her waist, the simple cut displaying her generously lush figure to its best advantage. Her feet were bare, and her delicate toes curled into the carpet. Her hair was loosely pinned in a topknot with several strands tumbling over her shoulders in beautiful waves, and she nervously pushed the spectacles up her nose.
Immediately, all the tension which had invaded his body since he learned Weychell had been shipped abroad left Nicolas. He was simply powerless to control his reaction to her. “You are so very lovely.”
Her cheeks pinkened and delight leaped into her eyes. “Eye of the beholder and whatnot,” she said with an irrepressible grin and then a light chortle. “I am glad you came.”
Her laugh was a warm, husky sound which brought pleasure to his ears.
“It is astonishing to me how often you occupied my thoughts today. I do believe I missed you.”
Her words kicked him in the chest. He liked that she expressed herself so honestly. Nicolas got the sense he would always understand where he stood with her. If she were angry, or sad, or just feeling out of sorts, he would know it. She wasn’t coy at all, and he had never met a lady who stared at him so directly when they spoke, as if she peered beyond the facade and stripped him down to his essence.
He liked that at a first glance she appeared the perfect picture of demure gentility, but one only had to look in her eyes to see how they sparkled with something wild and defiant.
“When I left you yesterday…I was unable to sleep upon returning home,” he admitted.
“From your tone, I gather you are blaming me for that?”
This she said with a wrinkle of her nose, as if she was amused by her own assessment. She actually rolled her eyes, then that lush beautiful mouth curved in a pleased smile.