Authors: Gloria Harchar
Her words scared him, because he feared the same change had occurred in himself.
"
Don
'
t get all poetic on me,
"
he said.
"
Remember, your expertise is color.
"
"
Then I feel as if I could create a whole new palette of exquisite hues.
"
She nuzzled his neck.
The action made him more contented than he remembered. He should leave—leave before he became too attached. But he felt so comfortable, so at home, for the first time in his life. As he reveled in the delicate warmth of her femininity, he told himself he would move from her bed in just a little while.
"Why Clockwork Blue?"
"Mm?"
"Why name the color Clockwork Blue?"
"The hue came from an old clock of my grandmother's. The copper gears had tarnished to an aquamarine-blue shade so beautiful, I had to capture it."
"I always wondered." He sighed as a drowsy contentedness stole over him. He kept his arms wrapped around her as time ticked by.
"
Malcolm
?
"
Her voice was soft, hesitant, barely enough to penetrate the lull of semi-sleep that enveloped him.
"
Hmm?"
He found the strength to grunt that small response, but that was all. He breathing was slow, his e
ye
s too heavy with satisfaction to open.
"
I-I love you.
"
"
Hmm.
"
Her voice echoed in his mind, trying to draw him back from slumber. Had she said she loved him? No. It was merely a dream. He
'
d once had such dreams, that he was worthy of things like love and happiness, but that was all they had ever been. Just dreams.
His thoughts drifted like vapor from a steam car ….
Malcolm
opened his
eyes
to a frilly pink mantle and knew he
'
d made a terrible mistake. Bloody hell, now she would expect him to love her back, t
o accept her into his life, something he
could never
do. His brother
'
s face appeared in his mind
'
s
you
, the way he
'
d appeared the week before the fatal accident. How could
Malcolm
ever embrace love and happiness when his soul rotted from past murderous actions? The only way he could atone for his past sins was to deny himself, to keep happiness at bay—and that meant sending
Nicola
back to Nottingham alone. T
he sooner the better.
Carefully he slipped out of bed, trying not to jostle
her. He even avoided looking toward her
for fear that the mere sight would make him want to crawl back under the mantle and experience their intimacies all over again. Hastily he donned his wrinkled trousers and shirt, then retrieved his waistcoat from the floor, all the while blocking any sounds she might make—her delicate, sexy breaths or sighs. Those whimsical sounds might be his undoing. It struck him then how very quiet she was being. Bracing himself against her allure, he turned.
The bed was empty.
Astounded, he continued to stare, as if by doing so he could make her appear. Where had she gone? How
dare
she leave him afte
r their glorious night together.
It was then that he heard her muffled voice from the other side of the door. He didn
'
t understand what she said, but her tone was musical and so distinctive that he couldn
'
t mistake it. Striding toward the adjacent chamber, he swung open the barrier and stepped over the threshold.
Gowns, frilly chemises and petticoats lay everywhere.
Nicola
paced, rummaging through the items.
"
No, I don
'
t want the magenta gown, just the
Clockwork
Blue
s and the rose beige. And a couple of the greens.
"
Her face was flushed.
"
Oh, I don
'
t care anymore. Just hurry!
"
"
Yes
, ma
'
am,
"
her tiny maid said and rushed to comply.
Watching
Nicola
'
s frenzied moves as she stuffed a petticoat into one of her bags, he felt unaccountably hurt.
"
So, was our night so bad that you
'
re running away from me?"
"
What? Oh,
Malcolm
, don
'
t jest. I
'
ve got to return home.
"
"
Home? Why?"
"
The
pixies
called me.
"
"
Bloody hell
,
Nicola
. Don
'
t start that talk about pixies again. You can
'
t just leave. You are needed in my bed.
"
"
Shhh, we don
'
t have time for that.
"
With a blush, she held up her finger to her lips, still slightly swollen from their kissing, and glanced at her maid.
No time? Their night of lovemaking had been the most earth-shattering experience he
'
d ever had, and she could be so blithe about it?
"
This is your home. Your home is with me.
"
As soon as he said it, he could have guillotined his tongue. He had always made it clear that her home was in Nottingham and that they would live separate lives. Or at least he had tried to make it clear. The notion now caused a hollow ache in the middle of his gut.
How could he become so confused over the whole issue? He grasped her by the wrist as she tried to fly by him.
"
A spell. You
'
ve cast a spell on me. It
'
s the only explanation.
"
"
I don
'
t have time to talk to you about magic and such,
"
she said, pulling against his hold.
"
I must leave.
"
He let go.
"
You aren
'
t going anywhere.
"
Moments ago he
'
d been thinking about how to send her away back to Nottingham. Now here she was, lea
ving of her own accord. The irony that he was deeply offended wasn't lost on him.
"
I
'
m not going to argue with you. I
'
m needed at home—er, I mean at my father
'
s house.
"
"
What about the Busbys
?
"
"
They
'
ll be fine now that Thomas Hill is out of the
way.
"
He frowned, trying to think of another excuse.
"
Then think of the Prince Regent
'
s ball tonight.
"
"
You can make excuses for me.
"
"
Bloody hell,
Nicola
, I need you here, not in Nottingham.
"
The maid had halted her packing and stared at him as if he
'
d sprouted wings. Then she smiled in an idiotic fashion. He motioned to the door.
"
Leave us.
"
"
Yes
, my lord.
"
Clasping her hands together and emitting a gusty sigh, the small-boned woman wasted no time in fleeing. Now he was certain the servants would be buzzing about what a changed man he
'
d become.
Bloody hell
, he didn
'
t need this.
"
What do
you think is happening at home?"
"
Not think—
know.
You don
'
t understand, and I don
'
t have time to explain.
"
"
No, I don
'
t. Mayhap it
'
s something to do with your quirky ideas, your optimism and stubbornness, but I can
'
t get enough of you. At least I haven
'
t
ye
t.
"
He took her in his arms and realized she was trembling. She was upset. Why? With a tenderness foreign to him, he asked,
"
Nicola
, sweeting, what
'
s
wrong?"
Grasping his waist tightly, she shuddered.
"
I
'
m worried about Ramsey!
"