Nicholas - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,54

were threatening her person. She’d appreciate some privacy.”

It took a few minutes, but the crowd dispersed, leaving Leah sitting beside Nick, pale and weepy. He kept an arm around her shoulders, despite their public location, because he was haunted by the same thought Leah no doubt was: What if he hadn’t been there?

What if he’d said one more farewell this morning to his father?

Lingered over a pot of tea, hoping the clouds would lift?

Heeded Ethan’s suggestion that they grab luncheon before parting?

“God’s hairy toes.” Nick wrapped his arm more tightly around her. “I’m taking you home with me.” This merited him only a shaky nod of assent. “I’d like to carry you, but you’ll feel better if you can walk. We’ll take it as slowly as you need to.”

Nick stayed glued to her side, her left hand in his left, his right arm anchored snugly around her shoulders.

“Nick?” Crying had left her voice husky.

He bent his head to hear her, even as he kept them moving. “Lovey?”

“Th… thank you.” A shudder passed through her, and right in the middle of the walk, Nick stopped and wrapped both arms around her again, resting his chin on the top of her head. He held her tight. She clung to him too, until he felt her breathing calm and her tremors cease.

“I’m all right now,” Leah murmured against his sternum.

“I am not,” Nick said, but he resumed their promenade nonetheless and felt marginally better when they’d gained the busy streets and left the open spaces of the park behind them. As he escorted Leah the several blocks to his town house, his nerves did calm somewhat, coalescing into unshakable resolve.

She would marry him, and she would be safe in his care. There was no other acceptable outcome. None.

And threading through that resolve, in the aftermath of battle, was an incongruous arousal. Possessiveness played a part, as did animal excitement, but Nick’s reasoning mind could barely wrestle into submission the tightening in his groin, the heat under his skin, and the urge to lay Leah down and cover her body with his own.

When he’d closed the door of his home solidly behind them, Nick was in no condition for Leah to plaster herself against his chest, grab him by the back of the head, and drag his mouth down to hers.

“For the love of God, Nick,” she groaned against his mouth. “Please… just…”

He gathered her close, bent his body over hers, and fused his mouth to hers. She tightened the grip of her fingers in his hair, and Nick felt her breasts straining against his chest. Simmering lust exploded into the full-blown need to spend as Nick sent his tongue plunging into Leah’s mouth.

“Not here,” he muttered against her lips. “Not…” Then he realized what he’d just said. Not here, not anywhere, for the love of God. He groaned and gentled the kiss, though the shift in intensity took torturous seconds to register with Leah. When she drew back to rest her forehead on Nick’s chest, her breath was heaving in and out, and her hands were shaking again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. His arms settled around her gently, and he angled his body slightly away from hers, so the evidence of his arousal wasn’t as apparent.

“I’m not,” Nick countered, rueful humor in those two words. “I believe we experienced the same impulse that sends soldiers pillaging through conquered cities after a battle.” He stroked his hand slowly over her hair, willing them both to calm, to find some peace and sanity. It was absolute hell to be so close to her, but it would be worse to let her go.

“If you will steady me,” Nick teased gently, “I think I could get as far as the family parlor.”

She nodded, keeping an arm around his waist even as his arm stayed across her shoulders. A startled footman met them outside the parlor, and Nick quietly ordered tea and a late lunch and asked that the running footman be sent to him, as well as a groom.

Nick dealt with the groom first, scribbling a note and directing him to make all haste to Willowbrook, the Marquis of Heathgate’s estate. As the groom decamped on his appointed task, another knock sounded on the door.

Nick sent the runner off to the fashionable address of investigator Benjamin Hazlit, and from there to the houses of Lady Della, Darius Lindsey, and Trenton Lindsey, specific messages memorized for each. The tea tray arrived shortly thereafter, followed by a cart laden with

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