He approached her and closed his hands over her bare shoulders. "Neither are you," he replied. "I never expected to receive such pleasure from a rank novice." Taking the dress from her hands, Nick dropped it to the floor and pressed her body against the velvet front of his robe. Her skin tingled at the plush softness that caressed her from br**sts to knees. "Maybe it's because you're mine," he mused, his hand covering her pale, round breast. "No one's ever belonged to me before."
Lottie smiled wryly. "You make me sound like a horse you've just bought."
"A horse would have been cheaper," he replied, and grinned as she attacked him in mock outrage.
She pounded at his chest, and he twisted her wrists neatly behind her back, causing her br**sts to thrust forward. "Save your strength," he advised, smiling against her hair. Releasing her wrists, he rubbed the small of her back with one hand. "You must be sore. I'll draw a hot bath for you. When you finish, we'll have something to eat."
A hot bath would be wonderful. However, the thought of lacing herself into a corset and dressing for dinner was distinctly unappealing.
"Shall I have a supper tray sent up here?" Nick asked.
"Yes," Lottie said immediately and gave him a quizzical glance. "How do you do that? You always seem to know what I'm thinking."
"Your face shows everything." Removing his robe, he placed it around her, the heavy velvet warming her with the lingering heat of his body.
"I've only eaten in my bedroom once, when I was ill," she told him as he tied the robe around her. "And that was years ago."
Nick bent to whisper in her ear. "My passionate bride...later I'll show you that the bedroom is the best possible place to dine."
He bathed her himself, kneeling by the tub with the sleeves of his robe rolled up to reveal the wet, dark hair of his forearms. Eyes half-closed, Lottie let her gaze drift from the tanned column of his throat to the dark hair that filled the open vee of his robe. He was such a robustly masculine creature, and yet he touched her with incongruous gentleness. Veils of steam rose from the water, making the air hot and iridescent. She felt drugged with heat and sensuality as his strong, soapy hands glided into the intimate places of her body.
"Does it hurt here?" he asked, his fingers slipping over the swollen entrance of her sex.
"A little." She leaned back against his arm, her head lolling on the polished wooden rim of the huge porcelain bathtub.
Nick kneaded lightly with his fingertips, as if he could heal her with his touch. "I tried to be gentle."
"You were," she managed to say, her thighs floating apart.
Nick's thick lashes lowered as he stared at the shimmering blur of her body beneath the water. His handsome features were carved with such severity that his face could have been molded from bronze. The edge of his rolled-up sleeve dragged in the water, the velvet turning hot and sodden.
"I won't ever hurt you again," he said. "That's a promise."
Lottie caught her breath as he parted the tender folds between her thighs and investigated the fragile plumpness they had concealed. Her h*ps lifted, while her hands fought for purchase on the slippery surface of the tub. He slid a supportive arm behind her back, holding her securely.
"Lean back," he murmured. "Let me pleasure you."
No, she thought skeptically, not in a bathtub, with a thick wall of porcelain between them. But she relaxed in his hold and opened for him as his free arm moved across her body. She grasped his wrist lightly, feeling the movement of tendons and muscles as he ran his thumb over each side of her vulva. He rubbed the silken flanges of her inner lips together, his touch tender and light. Softly he spread her, stroking his middle fingertip along the tender seam, brushing the rosy nub of her sex each time. He smiled slightly as he saw bright patches of color appear on her face and chest. "The Chinese call this the jewel terrace," he whispered. Gently his finger slipped inside her, advancing only an inch, circling softly. "And here, the lute strings...and here..." He reached to the most secret recesses of her body. "The flower heart. Does it hurt when I touch you this way?"
"No," she gasped.
His lips brushed her ear. "The next time we lie together, I'll show you a position called Stepping Tigers. I'll enter you from behind and go deep inside...and rub against the flower heart over and over..." He suckled her earlobe, catching it lightly between his teeth. A hum of pleasure climbed from Lottie's chest to her throat. She was floating, weightless, yet clasped securely by the arm at her back and the hand between her thighs.
"How do you know such things?" she asked unsteadily.
"Gemma collects books on erotic techniques. One of her favorites is a translation of a text written during the Tang dynasty. The book counsels men to increase their stamina by forestalling their own pleasure as long as possible." His finger withdrew, and he stroked her inner thighs with the lightness of butterfly wings. "And it gives prescriptions for health benefits...to strengthen the bones...enrich the blood...ensure long life."
"Tell me some of them," Lottie said, swallowing hard as his hand cupped over her, the base of his palm nudging rhythmically into the place where she was most sensitive.
He nuzzled her cheek. "There's the Soaring Phoenix, which is said to make a hundred illnesses disappear. And Cranes Entwining Necks-reputedly very good for promoting healing."
"How many have you tried?"
"Only about forty. The ancient masters would consider me a novice."
Lottie drew back to stare at him in astonishment, her movement causing a wave to slosh close to the rim of the tub. "How many are there, for heaven's sake?"
"Fifteen coital movements applied to thirty-six basic positions...which provides about four hundred variations."
"That s-seems rather excessive," she managed to say.
Amusement curled through his voice. "It would keep us busy, wouldn't it?"
Lottie winced as she realized that he was trying to slide two fingers inside her. "Nick, I can't-"
"Take a deep breath and exhale slowly," he whispered. "I'll be gentle." And as she obeyed, he eased his middle fingers past the tight entrance. His thumb teased her sex and swirled in a steady rhythm.
Moaning, Lottie buried her face against his velvet-covered arm while her inner muscles grasped helplessly at the gentle invasion. After the initial sting faded, she began to squirm and gasp at each penetrating glide. "You hold me so sweetly in here," Nick said huskily. "I want to go deeper and deeper...lose myself in you..."
His words were drowned out by the thundering of her own heartbeat, and she was racked with shudders of bliss, her senses lit with white-hot fire.
A long time later, after the bath had cooled, Lottie dressed in a fresh white nightgown and approached the bedroom table, where Nick was standing. She felt herself color as he stared at her with a half-smile. "I like the way you look in this," he said, brushing his fingers over the high-necked bodice of the gown. "Very innocent."
"Not any longer," Lottie said with an abashed smile.
He lifted her against his body, his face rubbing into the cool dampness of her hair. His beguiling mouth found her neck. "Oh, yes, you are," he said. "It's going to require a great deal of time and effort to debauch you completely."
"I have every faith you'll succeed," she said, and sat before a plate loaded with ham, vegetable pudding, potatoes, and open-faced tarts.
"To our marriage," Nick said, pouring a glass of wine for her. "May it continue in a better vein than it started."
They raised their glasses and clinked the crystal gently. Lottie sipped cautiously, discovering a rich, spicy flavor that balanced the saltiness of the ham.
Setting his glass aside, Nick took her hand in his and regarded her bare fingers thoughtfully. "You have no ring. I'm going to remedy that tomorrow."
Lottie experienced a shameful spark of interest in the idea. She had never owned a piece of jewelry. However, it had been drilled into her at Maidstone's that a lady should avoid the appearance of acquisitiveness. She managed to adopt an impassive expression that would have pleased her former teachers excessively. "It isn't necessary," she said. "Many married women do not wear rings."
"I want anyone who looks at you to know that you're taken."
Lottie gave him a brilliant smile. "If you insist, I suppose I can't stop you."
He grinned at her obvious eagerness. His thumb brushed over the fine points of her knuckles. "What kind of stone would you like?"
"A sapphire?" she suggested hopefully.
"A sapphire it is." He kept her hand as they talked, absently toying with the tips of her fingers and the close-trimmed crescents of her nails. "I suspect you'll want to see your family soon."
Lottie's attention was immediately diverted from the subject of the ring. "Yes, please. I fear that Lord Radnor may have already told my parents about what I've done. And I don't want them to worry that they'll be left destitute now that I have married someone else."
"There is no need to look so guilty," Nick said, tracing the thin veins inside of her wrist. "You had no part in making the bargain-it wasn't your fault that you didn't wish to uphold it."
"But I benefitted from it," Lottie pointed out reluctantly. "All those years at Maidstone's...my education cost a great deal. And now Lord Radnor has nothing in return."
He arched a dark brow. "If your point is that Radnor has been ill used-"
"No, it's not that, precisely. It's just...well, I didn't do the honorable thing."
"Yes, no doubt you should have fallen on the sword for the rest of the family," he said sardonically. "But your parents will be just as well served this way. I couldn't possibly be a worse son-in-law than Radnor."
"You are certainly preferable as a husband," she said.
He smiled at that, lifting her fingers to his mouth. "You would preferanyone to Radnor as a husband-you've made that quite clear."
Lottie smiled, thinking privately that in marrying Nick, she had ended up with a far different husband than she had expected. "What will you do tomorrow?" she asked, remembering their earlier confrontation with Sir Ross. She was certain that Nick would not relinquish his position at Bow Street without objection.
Releasing her hand, Nick frowned. "I'm going to visit Morgan."
"Do you think that he will take your side against Sir Ross's?"
"Not a chance in hell. But I'll at least have the satisfaction of telling Morgan what a damned rotten traitor he is."
Lottie leaned forward to touch the lapel of his robe. "Have you considered the possibility that they both are doing what they think is best for you? That it might be in your own interests to reclaim the title?"
"How could it be? My God, I'll be living in a gilded cage."
"I'll be there with you."
He stared at her, seemingly arrested by the words. He looked at her so intensely, for so long, that Lottie was finally moved to ask, "What? What are you thinking?"
Nick smiled without humor. "I was just reflecting on how much better prepared you are for my life than I am."
Although Lottie had tentatively invited him to stay the night with her, Nick left after supper, retreating to the guest room a few doors away.
I'll be there with you.Her words had affected Nick curiously, just as her casual remarks at the wishing well had. She possessed a terrible knack of unraveling him with a simple phrase...words so commonplace, and yet invested with significance.
He didn't know what to make of Lottie. Despite the way he had deceived her initially, she seemed fully prepared to act as his partner. She responded to him with passion and generosity, and in her arms he had been able to forget the secrets that had haunted him for fourteen years. He craved more of that sweet oblivion. The past few hours had been extraordinarily different from what he had experienced with Gemma. When he made love to Lottie, his lust was enmeshed with a deep tenderness that made his physical responses unbearably acute.
She kept reaching through his defenses without even seeming to know what she was doing, and he could not allow anyone that kind of intimacy. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before Lottie discovered the demons that lurked inside him. And if that happened, she would withdraw from him in horror. He had to keep a certain distance between them, otherwise she would eventually come to regard him with disgust. Or pity. The thought made his skin crawl.
He had to maintain his detachment, while even now he longed to go back to her. In all his twenty-eight years, he had never felt this painful need for someone. Just to be in the same room with her.
My God,he thought with dull horror, going to the window and staring blindly into the night.What is happening to me?
Sir Grant Morgan looked up from his desk as Nick burst into his office before morning sessions. There was no trace of apology in his hard green eyes. "I see you've spoken to Sir Ross," he said.
Nick proceeded to give vent to his outrage in the coarsest words ever conceived in the history of the English language, leveling accusations that would have caused any other man either to cower in terror or to reach for the nearest pistol. Morgan, however, listened as calmly as if Nick were offering a description of the weather.
After an extensive rant speculating on the likelihood that Morgan was nothing but a puppet while Sir Ross pulled the strings, the chief magistrate sighed and interrupted.
"Enough," he said shortly. "You're beginning to repeat yourself. Unless you have anything new to add, you may as well spare yourself the breath. As to your last charge-that this situation is all of Sir Ross's making-I can assure you that the decision to remove you from the force was fully as much mine as his."
Until that moment, Nick had never realized that Morgan's opinion was so important to him. But he experienced a genuine stab of pain, a killing sense of betrayal and failure. "Why?" he heard himself ask hoarsely. "Was my performance so unsatisfactory? What more could I have done? I solved every case and caught almost every man you sent me after-and I did it by the rules, the way you wanted. I did everything you asked. More, even."
"There has never been a problem with your performance," Morgan said quietly. "You've discharged your duties as ably as anyone could have. I've never seen any man match you for bravery or wits."