Almost absently, he bent to stir the coals again, and a lock of tawny hair fell over the bandage wrapping his forehead. When he raised a hand to rake back his hair, she noticed the red stain seeping through the white muslin.
"You are bleeding," Aurora said, rising to her feet in alarm.
He touched the bandage gingerly, and a smear of blood came away on his fingers. "So I am. The gash must have opened when I washed earlier."
"May I look?"
He raised an eyebrow but made no objection when she reached up to probe beneath the dressing. "Please, will you move over to the light so I can see?"
When he complied, Aurora set both their wine glasses on the bedside table and turned up the lamp. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she carefully unwound the strip of muslin from around his brow. She could feel his intent gaze on her as she inspected the wound beneath the pad.
"I doubt this is what you planned for your wedding night," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry."
No, this was not what she had planned. Had Geoffrey survived, this night would have been far different for her.
She would not be preparing to give herself to a stranger, nor would she have been so unnerved by her husband's nearness the way she was with Nicholas Sabine. Or so strangely excited.
Aurora mentally chastised herself. She should not be thinking of Geoffrey or comparing the two men. Geoffrey was gone, and soon so would this man be.
Her sadness must have shown on her face, for he asked quietly, "Your betrothed… did you love him a great deal?"
She flushed, realizing he had mistaken the cause of her sorrow. "Yes."
Making an effort to shrug off her melancholy, she went to the washstand and wet the corner of a towel before returning to her new husband. "Your wound bled a little. The blood should be wiped away so it won't mat your hair."
"Please do."
"Forgive me if I hurt you."
"You won't." He didn't seem inclined to change the subject, however, as she gently cleaned his scalp. "You said I bore a resemblance to your betrothed."
"I thought so at first because of your fair hair. But I was mistaken about any real resemblance. You really are nothing alike."
"How so?"
"Geoffrey was a…"
"A proper gentleman?"
"A proper, gentle man."
"Do you not think I can be gentle?" Nicholas queried solemnly.
Her heart gave a fluttering leap. "This is not what you expected either, was it?" she asked, trying to ignore the sensations he aroused in her.
"To be truthful, I never gave matrimony much thought…"
"You never wanted to marry at all?"
His brows drew together thoughtfully. "I suppose I had a vague notion that someday I would marry and sire an heir. But I was too busy sowing my wild oats to entertain any serious thought of settling down." The half smile that flashed across his mouth was fleeting, before he gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders. "It's too late now for recriminations or deliberations on what might have been."
"I regret you were trapped into an unwanted marriage," Aurora replied, her voice rough with emotion.
Nicholas reached up to close his strong hand around hers, commanding her attention. "I don't mean to spend my last night dwelling on regrets." His dark eyes held her spellbound. "Do you think we could make a pact, sweetheart? For tonight we forget everything else that has happened?"
"I would like that."
"So would I." His voice was hushed. "Very well, this is our night. Nothing exists, before or after this moment. Tonight we live only for the present."
"Yes," she whispered.
He reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape. Time suddenly seemed suspended as he drew her head down. He meant to kiss her, she realized, her pulse leaping in an erratic rhythm.
His mouth was amazingly soft and tender when it touched hers briefly, yet it stirred a riot of unruly emotions within her. She wanted to turn and run, but when he drew back slightly, his fathomless gaze locked with hers, imprisoning her as surely as any chains.
Aurora felt her heart hammering as Nicholas leisurely took the towel from her limp grasp and let it fall to the floor. Hooking his arm around her waist, he urged her closer, between his spread legs, till her breasts brushed his chest. A tremor rippled through her.
With some futile thought of self-preservation, she pressed her palms against his broad shoulders, staring at him. His eyes, dark and sensual, told her clearly he didn't intend to stop at a kiss.
"Your wound…"
"Will survive. But I might not if I don't taste you soon."
Still holding her lightly, he slowly lay back on the bed, drawing her with him. Heat spread in her, catching hurtfully in her stomach as she found herself stretched fully on top of him, cushioned by his powerful body. She trembled at the stunning intimacy of this simple contact, the unfamiliar hardness against her softness, the warmth of his frame beneath her thin silk gown.
"Open your mouth this time, lovely Aurora," he murmured as he delicately teased her into parting her lips.
The intrusion of his tongue was slow and sensual, more erotic than anything she had ever felt before. For a long moment she remained rigid, experiencing the foreign sensation of his open mourn tasting deeply of hers. He was drinking of her, savoring her. It was tantalizing, the warm stroke of his tongue inside her mouth.
She could feel herself softening, her breath quickening in steady arousal, but her simple pliancy still was not enough for him.
He left off kissing her long enough to murmur in a husky voice, "Kiss me back, sweetheart," before his mouth found hers again.
Dazed, she let her tongue shyly move to meet his and was rewarded by his low, guttural sound of approval.
The pressure on her mouth deepened. A heavy ache began forming in her lower body as his intoxicating lips and tongue taught hers about kissing. His hands stroked down her back, bringing her hips even closer to his, exciting her further.
For long moments they lay together, tasting each other in the heated silence. Aurora lost any perception of time, any sense of herself. There was only the captivating awareness of Nicholas, of his raw masculinity and his sensual, drugging kisses, of his hard-muscled body beneath hers.
Eventually his caresses became more ardent; he claimed her mouth fully, dragging her into his kiss and sending delicious liquid sensations flooding through her defenseless body. Of their own volition, her fingers moved from his shoulders to curl in the waving silkiness of his hair. His mouth was a searing flame that stole her breath.
Helplessly she pressed closer to him, longing for something she couldn't name. She felt boneless, on fire… She felt as if she were falling…
It was only Nicholas, nudging her onto her back on the soft mattress.
Her eyes fluttering open, she stared up at him. She was trembling, her cheeks hotly flushed, her senses spinning.
His eyes watched her as his hand moved to the empire-waist bodice of her gown; she felt herself drowning in their shadowed depths.
When his fingers curled over the low decolletage, she tensed, but he bent to her again, his mouth hovering just above hers, heating her lips. "Don't be afraid to feel, angel. Tonight you can abandon reason and just let your senses rule."
When she made no protest, he gently tugged on the neckline of her bodice, then drew down the edge of her chemise over the top of her corset to expose the swell of her breasts that were pushed up by the stiffened fabric. With expert skill, he bared her nipples to the night air, making her shiver. When his bold fingers found one hardened bud that quivered there, she moaned involuntarily at the delicate-sharp sensation that shot through her.
"Has no one ever touched you like this before?" he whispered in her ear, his breath warm.