Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams (14 page)

The inspector was still frowning when he got into his car and slammed the door.

 

“Y
OU WERE SHAMEFUL WITH
that poor man, Nicholas.” Kacey shot the viscount a chiding smile. “No, we were
both
shameful,” she added ruefully.

“Nonsense. The bloody fellow should have left hours ago. Anyone could see we had other things on our minds than police business.”

“The inspector was only doing his job. And we certainly didn't give him much help.” Kacey's eyes darkened, probing his face. “How
did
you know—where they'd taken me, I mean?”

Nicholas ran the pad of his thumb tenderly over her brow where a white bandage covered the lacerated skin at her temple. He gave a soft sigh. “Something told me you were going to ask that…Hmmm—let's just say that a bird told me.”

“Indeed.” Kacey's brow rose in a devastating imitation of the viscount's own arrogant gesture.

“It's the only answer you're going to get from me. After all, who are you to complain? You claim to have conversed with a ghost,” Draycott growled, bending down for another kiss, this one long and devouring, not nearly as gentle as the last.

Long minutes later, when they finally began to resurface, Kacey slanted her head back, frowning. “Ghost? I don't believe in ghosts.”

It was Draycott's turn to look skeptical. “No? Very well then, let's just drop the whole business, shall we? But one day I'll work it all out of you, I promise. And I can be most persuasive when I wish to be, Kacey Mallory.”

Kacey's tawny brow arched. “Prove it,” she whispered silkily.

With a low growl, the Englishman did just that, leaving no weapon in his vast arsenal unused.

When Kacey's breath was ragged and her pulse beat a wild staccato, Nicholas slid forward and drew her head onto his lap. He twined her slim fingers through his. “I love you, Kacey,” he said huskily. “You know that, don't you?”

Her eyes radiant, Kacey nodded up at him, too full of emotion to speak just yet, still floating on the rich currents of the love that surrounded them.

The brisk tapping at the door barely registered at first. When neither answered, the door opened.

“Excuse me, your lordship, but it
is
nearly noon. Shall I serve luncheon now?” Brisk and correct, Marston stood just outside the door.

Draycott smothered a very graphic curse.

Marston's face remained entirely impassive. “I take that for a no. In that case, will you be requiring me for anything further?”

“Take the night off, Marston.” Nicholas's smile widened, decidedly wolfish now. He did not take his eyes from Kacey's flushed face. “On second thought, take the whole bloody month.”

The butler's lips twitched, but to his credit, he did not give way to the smile sneaking over his mouth. “Thank you, my lord. You are very generous. And may I be the first to wish you both happy?”

Nicholas turned at that, shooting Marston a grin that was swift and lopsided, making the viscount look boyish and slightly uncertain.

It was a smile that made Kacey's heart ache. A smile that made her vow to see that he looked like that often.

“Always on the mark, aren't you?” Then, turning to Kacey, “Yes, I rather think you
may
wish me happy, Marston.”

“By the way, your automobile has been repaired, my lord. I've taken the liberty of returning it to the garage.”

“Ah. Thank you for the loan of your Alfa.”

There was a decided glint in the butler's eyes as he caught Kacey's look of surprise. “His lordship is rather conservative when it comes to automobiles, Miss Mallory. You might as well learn that now. The Alfa Romeo is mine, in fact. The Land Rover is his—and a greater pile of junk never existed. If I may say so, my lord,” he added smoothly.

Nicholas's grin widened, but he still did not turn, enjoying Kacey's confusion. “No, you may
not
say so, Marston.”

The butler merely nodded. This argument was clearly one of long standing between them. “Very well, my lord. Consider the remark unsaid.” His eyes still glittering, Marston turned and left them then, closing the door softly behind him.

“That gorgeous sports car—it's Marston's?” Kacey couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice.

“Quite a first-rate amateur in the racing circuit is our Marston. Rather the ladies' man, too.”

Kacey could only shake her head, amazed.

And then Nicholas shifted, bending down and sweeping her into his arms.

“What…whatever are you doing?”

“I'm carrying you upstairs, my heart. I find I've had entirely enough talking for one day.”

“P-put me down this instant, Nicholas! I'm perfectly able to walk.”

“Ah, but I like carrying you, Kacey Mallory from Connecticut. I plan on carrying you quite often, as a matter of fact. Up my steps. Over my threshold.” His voice grew taut. “Into my bed. And right now I have a very important question to put to you, but I mean to render you entirely mindless with lust before I risk it.”

Kacey smiled. Her fingers eased deep into his dark, unruly hair. “Indeed.” It was a perfect imitation of his own imperious tone.

Nicholas's laugh was silk over steel. “You dare to provoke
me? For that you'll pay most dearly, I warn you. Do you know that my aunt has been calling all morning? I really should throw you to the wolves, you know. She's just itching to get her hands on you—she's got an attic chock full of art up at that ruin of hers in Yorkshire. But I told her you'd be tied up until after the honeymoon. We've decided on Lake Como, by the way.”

“Have we indeed? And what else have
we
decided upon?” Kacey demanded silkily, her voice low and very provocative.

Nicholas's eyes narrowed to silver slits. The pain at his groin was growing worse by the minute. “That it must be soon.” His eyes closed as her fingers eased open the top button of his shirt. “Oh, God, very soon,” he muttered thickly.

Kacey merely smiled, her lips following a moment later, teasing a hot, wet trail down his neck.

Nicholas's fingers tightened on her hips. “I'll never get enough of you, Kacey, I warn you here and now. In fact, I probably won't let you out of my bed for a week.”

The smile she gave him was instant and breathtaking. “Promises, promises.”

“And just in case you change your mind at the last minute, I have a little bribe for you, my dear Miss Mallory. It's upstairs in the long gallery. Would you care to see it?”

Kacey nodded dreamily, thinking the only bribe she needed was him—the things he did to her, the cherished way he made her feel.

He carried her upstairs, then lowered her gently to the ground before the door to the long gallery, frowning. “That's odd. I could have sworn I left that door closed this morning…”

He glanced quickly through the room. The curtains were drawn now, as Kacey had instructed, to protect the fine old tapestries and Oriental carpets from the damaging effects of the sun. The quick inspection told Nicholas everything was as he'd left it.

With a faint shrug, he took Kacey's hand and led her to the canvas propped on a chair by the far wall. “It's yours, my love.
That's the least I can do. Without it, I might never have found you. Although sometimes I wonder…”

A startled protest broke from her lips. “Nicholas! You can't! I
couldn't—
it's far too valuable for—” Kacey's breath caught. “It's genuine, you see. I should have told you yesterday, but—”

He stopped her with one finger soft upon her lips. “All the better, my heart. The perfect bribe, isn't it? My only condition is that it not hang in
our
bedroom.” His eyes darkened. “I want neither distractions nor onlookers when I have my way with you, woman. Or shall I take you back to the stables, perhaps?”

Kacey decided not to argue with him about the canvas now. Instead, she slanted her head and studied him through half-lowered eyelids. “Indeed, your lordship? The way I remember it,
you
were the one sizzling like a lit stick of dynamite back there in the stables.” Her hands climbed slowly to the buttons at her collar. “Maybe I should…” The first came free, and then the second. Her fingers slipped lower, freeing a third. “And what about when
I
have my way with
you,
my lord?” she purred.

Nicholas's eyes darkened, shot through with molten specks. “Promises, promises,” he whispered thickly.

Clear laughter spilled around them, dispelling the gallery's lingering shadows, along with any ghosts that might have haunted that ancient room. Nicholas pulled her to him, easing her between his taut thighs until she felt the hard evidence of the passion she had so skillfully provoked.

Kacey's hips shifted against his thighs, restless and sweetly urgent. Her eyes darkened, fixed on his hard mouth.

It was a silent plea, and one which the Englishman resolutely ignored. This time he would make her wait, Nicholas vowed, firing her need until it was just as great as his.

His hand dropped, gliding over her ribs until his fingers skirted the full swell of her breast. He didn't even try to resist the urge to move higher and palm her rich, seductive curves. Fire
shot through him when he heard her breathy sigh, saw her eyes close, felt the nipple bud sweetly beneath his touch.

“God, Kacey…”

“Please, Nicholas…”

Fingers laced, hearts meshed, they moved unsteadily to the door. They were almost at the threshold when Kacey stiffened, staring at the massive portrait that hung beside the entrance. “Do you see it?”

“See what, love?”

“There—the portrait!”

Draycott studied the gaunt figure of his ancestor impatiently. Clad in velvet and lace, the eighth viscount wore a faint, sad smile on his proud lips. “Am I supposed to see something?”

“Adrian…” Kacey seemed to hear a faint humming in the air around her. With it came the drifting scent of roses. She frowned, trying to place something—something about that smell. Something that seemed very important.

Her eyes narrowed. “I could swear there's something different about it. The face…the stance, maybe.” After a moment more, she gave up, shrugging. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just imagining it. This house has always done strange things to me.”

“I was hoping you'd say it was the house's
owner
who did strange things to you,” Draycott muttered, oddly jealous of the portrait that had captured all her attention.

Suddenly with a little cry, Kacey pointed lower. “There—that's it! The rose. He didn't have a rose before, I'm sure of it. I worked here for a whole day and I never before saw that rose!”

Nicholas studied the portrait more carefully this time. The figure carried a single rose in full bloom, not a modern hybrid but one of the old, wide-petaled varieties. Just the same sort as those growing over the stone face at the front of the house. “
Cuisse de nymphe—
maiden's blush. One of the old reprobate's favorites.” He frowned. “To tell the truth, I never paid much at
tention to the portrait before. Of course, all of these have been reproduced in some collection or another. We'll have a look in the library and check on it.”

Kacey was still staring at the portrait, a crease working across her brow, when Nicholas pulled her around to face him. “
Tomorrow,
that is. Right now, I've got other things on my mind than paint and canvas, no matter how old or cleverly executed.”

With a tremulous smile, Kacey turned into his embrace, combing her fingers through his thick hair and then rising to brush a kiss across his lips. Hard-faced, fierce with a need that was hunger and far, far more, Nicholas swept her up and strode down the hall to his bedroom.

A vein throbbed at his forehead as he laid Kacey back against the sapphire coverlet. “How right you look there.”

A muscle flashed at his jaw when he slipped the buttons of her dress free and tossed it away, feasting on her pure ivory nakedness.

In a wild flurry of rustling, he tugged his shirt from his pants and fumbled at his zipper with fingers suddenly unsteady.

Seconds later—seconds that seemed like an aching eternity—his clothes went flying atop hers. Slowly Nicholas laced his fingers through hers and stretched her arms above her, every movement deliberate as he covered her with his hard body. “Marry me, Kacey Mallory,” he ordered huskily. “Spend the rest of your life making me hungry, happy, and very crazy. Ferret through my mail. Sneak files out of my desk. Knock over my plants. Lock me in my own stables.” His eyes darkened, searching her face for her answer. “Make me the happiest man on earth, in short.”