Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(19)

“Come for a drive with me.” It was only his years as a spy that allowed him to sound light rather than desperate. “There is no need for a chaperone in my open curricle, and if we go now, we will be at Rotten Row just in time for the fashionable hour. Is that not what courting couples do?”

“I suppose.” She cast a longing look to her book. “Although I am getting to a good part. Lord Montmorenci is very wicked, of course, but so interesting.”

Surely, she was jesting. She could not truly prefer the company of a book to a flesh-and-blood man, could she? Nick decided he hated Lord Montmorenci, whoever the devil he might be.

“Egad, you are a difficult woman! Why must you continually spurn my attentions? We must be seen together, like other courting couples.”

“You needn’t shout at me. Of course I am happy to drive with you. Let me fetch my bonnet.” But even as she spoke, she tucked her book into the pocket of her skirt.

Aggravating woman.

To punish her, he twisted slightly as she passed through the doorway, forcing her to press against him. The smell of lilacs filled his senses, and for the briefest of moments, his body recognized the feel of hers. Mindlessly, he tilted his face to hers.

In an instant, she wiggled free and walked calmly to where her bonnet and pelisse hung by the door. She settled the former firmly over her black curls and turned to look back at him.

“Shall we be off?” she asked. “I should not like to be gone long, as we are expecting company for dinner.”

He could not concentrate on her words. There was not the faintest tremor in her voice nor flush in her cheeks. Was she really so unaffected by him?

“Yes…yes.” He took a breath to steady himself and stepped forward to offer her his arm.

They exited the house under Harvey’s disapproving gaze. Nick helped her into the curricle, settled in beside her, and took up the leathers. He turned them toward Hyde Park, where he was reasonably sure half of London would join them.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as they entered the park. “I wouldn’t like you to faint again.”

She had to think before she answered, which he didn’t like. “I ate breakfast but quite forgot about luncheon.”

“Here.” He pulled out a plum and two biscuits, wrapped neatly in a handkerchief. “Did you enjoy the flowers?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured between bites of the plum. “I wonder if there is even one pink rose left to be had in all London.”

He looked askance at her. “I only sent a half dozen.”

“You are not the only man to send a lady flowers after a ball. You are not even the only man to send me flowers.”

The dark fringe of her eyelashes swept downward, obscuring the expression in her eyes. Roses bloomed on her cheeks, as pink as the flowers he’d sent her. She looked so fetching as she sat there, blushing for another man, that all Nick could do was stare.

He did not care. It was not jealousy that clenched in his gut. It was only…he was surprised, that was all. And concerned for her welfare, naturally.

“What are their names?” he asked.

“Why?”

“So I can look into them and determine if any have issues with gambling or women or are otherwise unsuitable.”

She gave him an appalled look. “Oh, really, Nick. I can determine their suitability for myself.”

“I think not. When it comes to men, you have proven to be a remarkably poor judge of character and entirely lacking in common sense.”

She gaped at him. “You—you—insufferable man! How dare you—”

“Smile,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He tipped his hat to a gentleman passing on horseback. “Good afternoon, Mr. Crawson.”

Adelaide, to his relief, managed a smile and a murmured greeting as well.

The moment Mr. Crawson passed, she said, “You cannot be both my seducer and my protector. It’s absurd.”

Nick made the mistake of looking at her. Her lower lip plumped out, trembling with some emotion. Rage? Righteous indignation? Or perhaps it was the memories of their shared past that hung between them. It called to him, that quivering lip. It made him want to touch it with his own, to pull it between his teeth and suck. It made him want to protect her from others who would do the same.

“Can’t I?” he said softly. “Can’t I be both your seducer and protector, Adelaide?”

God help him if she said yes.





Chapter Sixteen


Did all ladies go damp between their thighs at a few crude words, Adelaide wondered, or was it just the particularly wicked ones?

“You cannot be both my seducer and protector,” she repeated. “Unless—” She drew in a sharp gulp of air. “You are not suggesting I become your mistress, are you? I could never—”

“Adelaide, no. I am saying… Oh, damn, what am I saying?” He frowned at the leathers. “I find that my feelings for you are unchanged from what they were two years ago, during our summer in Cornwall.”

She went hot all over. What did he mean? Could he—

“It’s not love,” he mused, his words hitting her like a bucket of icy water. “What is love, after all? Perhaps what we call love is merely a mixture of lust and friendship. If we’re lucky, the friendship remains after the lust fades.”