And off Romeo’s increasingly creepy behavior. In the last
three days, he’d taken to telephoning. Thankfully, thus far, only Lee and Port
had had the misfortune of receiving the calls.
“Well we haven’t any such problems,” Jane chimed in, “and we’ve
got the ocean too. I do love fireworks. They are ever so
exciting
.”
Even more so, Star thought acerbically, the men attending
them.
She quickly shoved the thought from her mind, for Jane and
Del were not her problem. Her problem—her reward—was Nicholas. “I’m sorry,” she
said, schooling her voice into just the right pitch of sadness. “I believe I
shall skip it this year. I—” She hesitated for effect. “I’m not feeling quite
up for festivities.”
Father scowled at her from the end of the table. Those who
did not know Father well would think it an expression of anger, but Star marked
anxiety in the creases around his eyes. “It’s your favorite event, Star. It
would be very ill of you to miss it.”
“Truly, Father, I should be but a blight upon the party.
I’ll see it next year.”
Lee glanced across the table at Jess. She nodded and
regarded Star somewhat warily. “I’ll stay with you,” she offered. “I’m not
very—comfortable—these days.”
Oh no!
“I will as well,” Lee said. “We’ll watch the fireworks from
the veranda.”
“Not necessary,” Nicholas interjected firmly. “I’ll stay.
You’ve been talking about it for a week, Jess. You go ahead.”
Oh
yes
! Nicholas to the rescue, just as she had
hoped. Star’s heart jumped. “No,” she said dutifully. “I couldn’t ask such
sacrifice of you, Nicholas. I’ll be fine by myself, I assure you.”
“No indeed,” Lee said. “Jess and I are happy to join Star.”
Nicholas shook his head. “No sacrifice a’ tall, ma’am. I’m
tuckered out from the parties and dinners and teas. Not,” he added hurriedly,
“that I haven’t enjoyed—”
“No apologies necessary, Nick,” Father interrupted, holding
up his hand. “We understand. Lee, you and Jess must join us. She’ll be
withdrawing from Society soon enough, and social intercourse will be severely
curtailed. Nick may see the show from the veranda, or, if he so chooses, more
spectacularly from the beachfront.”
“
Dad
,” Lee objected.
As Father, King of Deceit frowned at Lee, Star fought to
sound weary. “That’s true. Perhaps I’ll take a stroll later this evening if I’m
not too tired.”
“You can see them from the beach?” Nicholas asked, his eyes
lighting up. “Reckon I’ll join you.”
She smiled. “Why that is an excellent idea. I look forward
to it. Perhaps we’ll bring refreshments as well.” She was going to have her
cake and eat it too—and my, oh my, what a cake!
***
A crescent moon hung in the sky as Star and Nicholas
strolled across the thick green grass to the shore. A warm breeze flowed off
the water, lifting the skirt of her peach-flowered poplin, and blending the
fragrance of newly mown grass with the lovely tang of the ocean. The quiet
splashing of the waves against the shore echoed in her ears. Yes,
this
was the perfect place for her introduction to womanhood: the perfect sound, the
perfect smell, the perfect man.
She glanced at Nicholas walking beside her, tall and
straight with the breeze ruffling his hair. For their late-night feast and
fireworks, he’d shed his waistcoat, and upon exiting the house he’d unbuttoned
his suit coat as well. Although she knew it to be heavy, he swung their basket
of refreshments lightly, testament to the strength hidden under that coat. She
had the distinct impression he wished to yank off his tie and collar, as well,
but had refrained.
“You sure we’ll be able to see ’em, then?” he asked as they
stepped off the path and onto the dry, mushy sand. “Seems to me like we’d see
’em better from the east corner of the house, instead of looking out across the
ocean. Crane our necks a deal less, anyhow.”
“It wouldn’t be quite as spectacular as watching them over
the ocean.”
He glanced at her, appeared to be about to argue, but
thought better of it. Shrugging, he set down the basket and handed her the
blanket to spread. He hesitated, then reached for the lapels of his coat. “Warm
out here tonight. You mind?”
Mind? Good gracious, she could not possibly get it off him
fast enough!
“No, by all means, make yourself comfortable.”
He took it off. The white linen of his shirt stretched tight
across his hard, muscular chest. A warm flush crept across her face, hidden by the
darkness as she spread the blanket on the sand. Nicholas carefully laid his
jacket behind them at the edge of the blanket, then settled down and started
digging through the basket. “What’ve we got in here?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Hungry already, Nicholas?”
He grinned as he pulled out a bottle of port. “Always
hungry,” he said amusement deepening his voice.
“You ate but an hour ago.”
“Got myself a hollow leg, I reckon. You aren’t thinkin’ on
drinking this whole bottle yourself, are you? No, there are two glasses here.”
“I thought, however, to have more than one glass. No one is
here to prevent me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I could.”
“But you wouldn’t.”
He glanced at her as he pulled the cork. “No, I guess I
wouldn’t.” His eyes narrowed a bit, and his forehead wrinkled in concern. “How
are you doing?” His voice took on the newfound tenderness that set her heart to
fluttering.
“I’m better, thank you.”
He studied her for a moment more. “O.K. Good,” he said
pouring a glass of wine. He handed it to her, poured himself one, and then
carefully stuck it and the bottle in the sand at the edge of the blanket. As
she savored the smooth-sweet taste of port, he dug in the basket again. “Hey,
look! You packed some of that Frenchy cheese I like so much! And grapes.”
“Brie. Yes, I remembered how you enjoyed it. If you’ll dig
deeper, you’ll uncover a box of chocolates for me,” she said, laying on her
side.
He chuckled. “Sure enough. Here they are.” He handed them to
her. While he merrily consumed a plate of cheese, bread and grapes, she ate the
chocolates. “I’ll say this for you blue-bloods,” he said, taking a sip of port.
“You sure know good chow.”
Such a wonderful mouth, she thought dreamily, watching his
lips curl around the rim of his glass. The port relaxed her muscles and warmed
her skin. “Yes, we do know good chow. Although I must confess, I miss Melinda’s
cooking.”
“Me too, a mite,” Nicholas answered. “Hey, they’re
starting.” He pointed to where the sky was lighting up in the distance. Seconds
later they heard the explosions. “Man alive,” he said and whistled. He dropped
his empty plate back into the basket, then settled back on his elbows. “You’re
right, it sure is pretty over the ocean. Dam—blast, will you look at the way
they light up the sky!”
As Nicholas watched the sky, she watched him, enjoying the
way wonder flattened the planes of his face, then almost split it in half with
a smile of boundless joy. That joy searched out her heart, stroking it,
soothing the wounds left by the Kingstons’ deaths. It was one of the many
aspects of Nicholas’s nature that she loved so much. Few of her friends would
admit to such unfettered delight in matters that Society viewed as mundane;
presenting a façade of ennui was fashionable. But Nicholas was who he was,
fashion be damned.
Smiling, she swallowed the last of her port to bolster her
courage, put the glass back in the basket and sidled closer to him. He turned
to look down at her, eyes brilliant with enthusiasm, yet still marbled by
tenderness. “Did you see that? They’re red now!”
“I did see it,” she said.
He grinned. “’Course you did. Seen it all before, haven’t
you?”
“For many summers, but it’s prettier through your eyes.”
He regarded her for a spell. “You’re awfully sweet
sometimes, you know that?” The sky lit up again, and he jerked his head around.
“Hey, they’re blue now. And red and white. Man alive!”
He watched the fireworks, and she watched him, breathing the
heady scent of ocean air, pine and gun smoke into her chest and letting it flow
through her body. As she focused upon his mouth, her lips tingled in
anticipation, remembering his kiss and the seductive brush of his tongue
against her lower lip. At length the breeze brought the sounds of music, and
then the finale erupted in a culmination of color and light. Nicholas’s muscles
tightened in awestruck wonder, and her heart skipped a beat as desire, fueled
by port, sparkled in her belly. She sat up.
It ended. He turned to speak. And she stole his words with a
kiss.
He hesitated for a couple of heartbeats. Then he shifted his
body and took her face in his calloused hands. Holding her steady, he swept his
tongue through her mouth transferring the sweet, mellow taste of port. She
closed her eyes and sank into the sensation as sparkling thrills coursed along
her nerves and downward. Dizzy, she grasped his shoulders and leaned in,
grazing his chest with her breasts.
He pulled back, sucking in his breath. “Star. . .” The word
came out in one desperate syllable as he scanned her face. “No corset?”
“No,” she whispered. She’d chosen the gown for the light
ribbing that allowed her to go without support.
“Damn. . .” He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, as if
attempting to summon up restraint. She reached up to caress his face, that
dear, dear face, even now so intent upon honor and sacrifice.
He leaned into her palm for a second; that restraint broke.
He kissed her again, a feather light touch of his lips at first, followed by
gradually increasing pressure as his mouth moved over hers, tantalizingly,
sending delicious little shivers down her spine. As he balanced on one hand,
his other skimmed held her waist, branding her with its heat. She tentatively
sucked on his lower lip, then licked it. He swept inside for a leisurely
exploration, until she lifted her tongue to meet his. A little growl vibrated
in his throat and their tongues danced, which, pulses racing, she took as
encouragement. She pressed her breasts against his powerful chest. Her nipples
tightened in expectation and she closed her eyes, rejoicing in the touch. He
turned his head to blow in her ear, nibble on the lobe, and then his lips
coasted along her neck toward her breasts.
Finally, oh finally
.
She opened her eyes and, holding on to one of his arms to
steady herself, she yanked at the knot of his necktie.
“No,” he whispered in her ear. “Honey, no.” He grabbed her
wrist.
No, Nicholas, not this time. You won’t leave me wanting
again
.
She caught his mouth in a kiss, swallowing his protests.
After coaxing her way into those, hot, porty recesses, she circled his tongue
with hers in playful little swipes, followed by slow, sensuous stroking,
fanning the flames of lust, before inviting him inside. Lost in kissing, he set
her wrist free. His hand rested on her waist again, then drifted up to her
breast, as she pulled lightly on the buttons of his shirt. She slid one hand
inside, under fabric and braces. Running her fingers through the silky hair of
his chest, she reveled in the feel of those hard planes and shallow valleys.
When her palm skimmed his nipples, he broke off the kiss in another low growl,
more oxygen to the pleasing glow deep in her belly. She blazed a trail along
his throat, over his Adam’s apple and lower.
“Jesus,” he breathed. He caressed her breast, his
thumb playing with the peak through the fabric of gown and chemise, creating
tingling anticipation at the soft juncture between her thighs. She kissed his
neck, licked it, enjoying the salty taste of his skin. Her hand inched toward
the band of his pants, and then below, rubbing against his arousal, hidden in
the cloth. It jumped, and her heart followed suit. She palmed it.
“No,” he gasped, his muscles contracting under her lips as
he went for her wrist again. “Star,
no
.”
She was trembling, and the tingling between her thighs
became a wet tickle, yearning for attention. Twisting her wrist, she easily
escaped his grasp. “Yes,” she whispered and palmed him again, then trailed her
hands along the inside of his hard thigh, before creeping back up to find the
tip of his erection through the cloth. He gasped and shuddered, ratcheting up
the lust now pounding in her veins. She shifted her head to find his ear with
her mouth, to caress it with her tongue, while she plucked at the buttons of
his fly, then the tapes of his drawers. They fell open and with a deep sigh,
she slipped inside to touch him, stiff and hot in her hands. “Nicholas,” she
breathed. “Oh it’s remarkable. . .”
He gasped in reply, and she fondled and kneaded it, as his
breathing went from heavy to ragged. After pulling him clear of the fabric, she
sought the tip, where a thick liquid seeped out. She ran her thumb through it,
spreading it over the head, along the sides, marveling at the way it jerked in
her hand. “Star . . . damn . . . no. . .” His words came out somewhere between
a groan and a growl as he made a half-hearted attempt to pull away. His
excitement spurred hers, rushing through her blood.
“
Yes
.”
She released him long enough to lie back, then grasped his
shoulders and neck to pull him down on top of her, lifting her head to meet his
lips for another kiss. He tensed, and for a minute, she thought he might fight
her. Instead, he rolled to her side and, still kissing her, let his hand roam
over breasts, stroking, teasing them through the cloth of her gown. She gasped,
squirming as the tickle became an ache. Creeping downward, his hand pulled at
the fabric of her dress, her chemise, bunching it over her belly until she was
entirely uncovered, and his bare hand was cupping the mound just below her
belly. “Nicholas,” she cried out.
His hand froze. “Sonuvabitch,” he rasped, “you aren’t
wearing any drawers.”