Lovers Forever (20 page)

Read Lovers Forever Online

Authors: Shirlee Busbee

Nicolas grimaced as the thought of her merrily tripping down dark, cavernous hallways that led God knew where made his blood run cold. “I don't think that it would be a good idea for you to go exploring on your own.” The mutinous expression on her face warned him he was on treacherous ground. Knowing that if he forbade her presence in the cellars, it would make them that much more alluring, he added hastily, “Um, perhaps very soon we can do some exploring down here together.”
“Perhaps,” Tess said airily, already planning a foray for tomorrow morning.
His eyes narrowed. “Dolly, this is not some sort of amusement I arranged for your benefit. The owlers are dangerous men. And audaciously brazen in the bargain—if concealing this contraband here last night with the house occupied is any indication of their nature.”
Tess looked thoughtful. “They probably didn't realize that the house was occupied. If they followed their normal practice, it would have been well after midnight before the ships were unloaded and the goods hidden. The house would have been dark, and there would have been no one about to alert them that it was now being used.” She glanced up at him. “Don't forget it is only yesterday that we arrived—and unless they checked on the cottage periodically, they would have assumed, no doubt, that the house was still abandoned and empty. In daylight, of course, the changes would be obvious, but not at night....” She paused. “But I doubt that even our presence would have stopped them—the owlers are notorious for doing what they please, and they certainly wouldn't have expected us to object.
That
wouldn't be very wise.”
“And just how, my love, do you know so very much about our Kentish smugglers?” Nicolas asked dryly. “Memory conveniently returning, hmm?”
Chapter Twelve
T
ess stared at him, his words going round in her brain. It was true—not that her memory had returned, but that she did know a great deal about the Kentish smugglers. A bolt of excitement shot through her. She
had
to be from around this area! Or, she thought with a little less enthusiasm, she had lived in this area at some time in the past. But that didn't feel right—the information about the owlers had come forth as naturally as breathing; that must count for something. Her excitement ebbed as she realized that there could be other reasons for her knowledge, such as the gloomy possibility that she had merely been close to someone else who was familiar with smuggler ways and had told her about them. The fact that she knew about the owlers wasn't necessarily the momentous revelation she had first thought it.
She met Nicolas's cynical gaze squarely. “The fact that I seem to know about smugglers shouldn't come as any great surprise to you. Anyone who lives in the vicinity of the Romney Marsh would know about them—the Kentish owlers are infamous. I imagine that there are lots of people who have never been within fifty miles of the marsh and still know about them. And as for their ways, nearly everyone knows how the smugglers operate. It's not,” she finished tartly, “a great secret!”
“You've a very agile tongue,” Nicolas replied grimly. “But you'll forgive me if I don't take your word as gospel. Your memory appears to be very selective, and I wait in breathless anticipation for the moment that you will conveniently remember everything!”
Tess's eyes darkened with anger. “If you weren't such a despicable, philandering, obnoxious, overbearing man, you'd realize that I'm telling the truth! And just because I happen to have flashes of memory doesn't mean that I'm lying!”
She was beautiful in a temper, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed rosily, that stubborn little chin carried at a fighting angle. Nicolas was very aware that instead of arguing with her, he would much rather carry her back to the bedroom and proceed to make love to her again....
Cursing under his breath, he jerked his wayward thoughts away from the pleasures to be found between her thighs. Grasping her arm, he urged her toward the narrow steps that led up to the pantry. In offended silence Tess allowed him to guide her upstairs and into the kitchen, where Rose, having joined the other two women, awaited them.
They were met with a barrage of questions, but Nicolas quickly soothed their fears, telling them that events were well in hand and they were not to worry about anything. Having reassured them, he whisked Tess back into the main salon.
Tess had barely seated herself once more on the settee before she guessed shrewdly, “You're going to try to trap them when they come for the goods tonight, aren't you?”
“Not only an agile tongue, but a clever little brain, too. Tell me, my dear, have you also decided how I plan to, er, trap them, I believe you said?”
She eyed him uncertainly. “You don't mean you're going to simply turn things over to Sir Charles, do you?”
Nicolas cocked his thick black brow. “Sir Charles?”
She suddenly looked very confused. Almost inaudibly she said, “Sir Charles Wetherby—the local magistrate.”
“Ah, is this
another
convenient scrap of memory?” he asked sardonically.
Absently she nodded her head. “His name just popped into my mind.” She regarded him earnestly. “Do you think that my memory is gradually coming back to me?”
There was such pitiful longing in her eyes that Nicolas bit back the unkind comment that hovered on his tongue. She was a very good little actress. Shrugging his broad shoulders, he said, “Perhaps. Who knows—tomorrow you may awaken and remember precisely who you are....” He smiled coolly. “Besides being my mistress, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied in a colorless tone. Unable to hold his derisive gaze any longer, she looked away and asked, “What
are
you going to do about the smugglers?”
Nick sighed. “I don't know,” he admitted, surprising both of them. “Turning the information over to Sir Charles is the most logical thing to do, but I find myself wishing to meet these bold gentlemen. Or at least observe them.”
“You mean
spy
on them?” she asked breathlessly, her violet eyes glittering with excitement. Obviously enamored of this idea, she went on in lively tones, “We could conceal ourselves in the cellars and await their return and follow them! We might even discover who their leader is—the head smuggler!”
Since that was precisely what Nicolas had planned to do,
alone,
he almost groaned aloud at her nearly palpable delight at the idea of confronting the mastermind behind the smugglers. Feeling distinctly harassed, he muttered, “Hiding in the cellars and spying on smugglers is no pastime for you! These men are quite capable of killing anyone who gets in their way. They are desperate, savage cutthroats, and I shudder to think what your fate might be if you fell into their hands. I want you safely away from any trouble, and no matter what I eventually decide to do about the situation, I don't want you peering over my shoulder while I do it!”
A heated argument ensued and ended only when Nicolas said in crushing tones, “You will
not
, under any circumstances, have anything to do with these blasted owlers.” His black eyes hard and uncompromising, he added grimly, “If the only way I can be assured that you will not continue to meddle in something that could be
very
dangerous is to gag you and tie you to your bed upstairs, believe me, sweetheart, I'll do it. Now do I have your promise not to interfere?”
Her mouth set in stubborn lines, Tess glared up at him. “How do you know that I'll keep my word?” she asked in scornful accents. “You already think I'm a liar.”
“But not about this,” he said slowly, knowing he spoke the truth. He couldn't explain it, but there was an instinctive knowledge that if she gave her promise, she would keep it. How the hell do I know that? he asked himself, bewildered. How can I be so certain that I can trust her to keep her word? It was unanswerable. Sending her a hard look, he demanded, “Well, do I have your word?”
Tess sighed, aware that he wasn't going to budge on this issue and that further argument would prove fruitless. He could be so stubborn! “Oh, very well,” she snapped, “you have my word on it.”
He smiled crookedly. “A little plainer than that, my dear—I may trust your word, but I don't trust you!”
She made a face. “You have my word that I will not try to observe the smugglers, or find out anything else about them.”
“And?”
“And I won't go exploring in the cellars without your permission.”
“Thank you,” Nicolas said softly, a warm gleam in his dark eyes. “I know that it cost you to give me that promise, but it
is
for your own safety.”
Tess merely looked disgusted. “I don't know why men get to have all the adventures! You
are
going to try to trap them, aren't you?”
Nicolas nodded slowly. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I
knew
it,” Tess muttered, and bounded up from the settee. After taking several agitated steps around the room, she looked back at him with a scowl.
“And what am I going to be doing while you're off merrily chasing smugglers?”
He crossed to where she stood, drew her into his arms, and kissed her on the nose. “You, my sweet, are going to be upstairs, tucked safely in your bed, breathlessly awaiting my triumphant return!”
Tess snorted and slipped out of his arms. “How utterly boring! If the last two days are anything to go by, being a mistress seems a rather dull profession to me,” she said caustically.
A sensual smile curved his long mouth, and Nicolas pulled her slowly back into his arms. Brushing his mouth tantalizingly across hers, he murmured, “I have been rather remiss with you, haven't I?” His lips settled a little more fully on hers, and Tess's heart began to race. “I promise that my next visit will not be so brief and that I shall show you then just how unboring being my mistress can be.”
He kissed her then. Hungrily. Hotly. And with great and obvious relish.
The subject of the smugglers and the boring fate of mistresses vanished from her mind. Desire, sweet and demanding, surged up through her, and she gave a soft moan as her arms, completely against her wishes, crept up around his neck. At least she
told
herself it was against her wishes, but as he kissed her even more deeply and as her fingers caressed his dark hair, as his wickedly knowing mouth and mesmerizing nearness wreaked their dark magic on her, it didn't really matter anymore....
With something between a curse and a plea, Nicolas finally tore himself from her. His black eyes glittered with passion, and his breathing was labored. He said thickly, “You are undoubtedly the most tempting little baggage it has ever been my fortune—or misfortune—to find! I touch you and I go up in flames, and if I'm not touching you, kissing you, holding you, all I can think about is how much I want to. You
are
a sorceress!” He pressed a hard, swift kiss on her stinging mouth. “I cannot stay—other plans were made for me this evening—but I will be back just as soon as I can.” He smiled regretfully at her. “It will probably be after midnight, and as much as I would like nothing better than to join you in your warm bed—it will be the smugglers who hold my attention then.”
Still half dizzy from his kisses, Tess stared at him as the knowledge that he might be doing something exceedingly foolhardy and dangerous suddenly occurred to her. If, as he said—and she didn't doubt him—these bold smugglers were desperate, savage cutthroats, wasn't
his
life in jeopardy? What would be his fate if they were to discover him spying on them? Would they murder him?
Fear seized her. Her eyes dark with the powerful emotions churning in her breast, she said huskily, “You will be careful? You won't take any foolish risks? You won't ...” She swallowed painfully. “Let them hurt you?”
Her words and her obvious concern touched something deep inside of him. No one, except perhaps his grandmother, had ever expressed any worry about him. His handsome face was full of tenderness as he cradled her against him. “No, sweetheart, I won't let them hurt me.” He dropped a kiss on her fiery hair and in an odd tone muttered, “There was a time when I felt no risk was too great....” His mouth twisted. “Believe me, minx, I have no intention of allowing any simple smuggler to keep me from your bed!” He kissed her again and, after shrugging into his many-caped greatcoat, was gone.
Tess stared at the empty doorway through which he had disappeared. What was happening to her? How was it that this man, this infuriating, beguiling man, could have made such a difference in her life in just forty-eight hours? How was it that his mere presence made her happy? That his absence left her feeling hollow and bereft? And how was it that while she railed against him and sometimes thought she hated him, the very idea of him going into danger filled her with terror? Surely she didn't
care
for the beast?
Driving swiftly through the falling rain, Nicolas frowned, his thoughts surprisingly similar to hers as he wondered what it was about Dolly that sent his blood racing and his heart thudding. He'd never felt this way before about a woman! His frown grew blacker. Except for those mad, halcyon days when he had believed himself in love with Maryanne....
Biting back a curse, he jerked his thoughts away from the puzzling little chit he had just left and began to think about the evening ahead. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he could hardly have refused his grandmother this morning, when she had especially asked that he dine at home this evening. She was inviting a few
dear
friends over for an impromptu dinner party to welcome him back to the neighborhood. Nicolas grimaced. He doubted that there would be very many of his grandmother's friends in to dine this evening, but he would have wagered a small fortune that some, if not all, of the young ladies mentioned by his grandmother last night would be there!

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