What had begun as a practical resolve to fulfill an obligation to his father and make the best of an unwanted marriage had somehow become a vital need. The more he came to know Aurora, the more certain he was that he wanted her for his wife.
He wasn't wrong about her. She had a wild spirit inside her that longed to be free. Her exquisite ministrations earlier in the park had proven that. Her momentary daring had startled and delighted him, giving him a savage release that had left him temporarily sated.
His triumph had been short-lived, though.
Remembering, Nicholas cursed. To see her retreat back into her self-protective cocoon afterward had infuriated him. He had wanted to shake some sense into her. And when she had spoken so tenderly of her love for her late betrothed, he had wanted to hit something.
Fierce possessiveness flooded Nick at the memory. He was jealous of a dead man. Her idolization of the late, great Geoffrey, Lord March, was enraging. But until she got over her memories of March, she would never be able to move on with her life… or give herself freely to anyone else. To him.
Nick set his jaw grimly. He was accustomed to rescuing damsels in distress, but usually the peril came from a physical threat. This time, however, he would save Aurora from herself.
He would claim her for his wife… and he would make her forget that she had ever loved another man.
Chapter Fifteen
He made his intent clear; he was determined to have me, body and soul.
Contrary to Aurora's hopes, young Harry's arrival in London did little to solve her dilemma: how to avoid her persistent, unwanted husband. Rather Harry's visit merely gave Nicholas further pretext for intimacy. He called at her house frequently, ostensibly to entertain Harry and take him to see the sights of London.
Their almost instant camaraderie greatly dismayed Aurora. Nicholas had won over the boy with his tales of ships and seafaring, along with liberal doses of charm. Yet she was reluctant to disappoint her newest young charge by refusing Nicholas entry to her home.
Frequently she was even grateful for his intervention. It was no small task, keeping an energetic ten-year-old occupied. She took Harry on her morning rides in the park, but that hardly scratched the surface of his adventurous itch. He wanted to see the world, beginning with every inch of London.
Fortunately – or unfortunately for convention's sake – Raven befriended him, and the two could often be found racing through the park like wild Indians. Aurora could hardly scold, since she had instigated the morning gallops in the first place.
Even wild gallops, however, could not compete with the entertainments Nicholas offered. Harry came home wide-eyed and excited when they visited Exeter ‘Change to see the tigers and Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, which boasted curiosities from Africa and the Americas. Three days later he suffered a stomachache from eating too much gingerbread when they attended a local fair with conjurers and tumblers and rope dancers.
When Aurora fretted that Nicholas was overindulging the boy, he brushed off her concerns and told her not to worry.
"Of course I worry," she responded. "I am responsible for him."
"I won't allow him to come to any harm, I promise you."
She had to be content with that, but there was no question Nicholas was encouraging Harry to test his wings, or that the boy had contracted a feverish case of hero-worship.
Raven accompanied them to Astley's Royal Amphitheater for a spectacle of acrobatics on horseback. The next day Harry attempted one of the feats of horsemanship and fell off his mount, skinning his knees and bloodying his chin.
Aurora was alarmed, but Nicholas reminded her that skinned knees were a rite of boyhood. When she would have continued protesting, he warned her not to try to rein the boy in too tightly, or he would think she was smothering him as his mother did.
Still, she didn't like it that Nicholas was aiding and abetting Harry's rebellion.
The final straw was Burford's Panorama in Castle Street, which offered murals of, among other things, the naval victories of Admiral Nelson on the Nile. All Harry could talk about afterward was going to sea.
"I think perhaps it's best if you cease taking him to any more entertainments," Aurora told Nicholas during their morning ride the following day.
"Why?"
"Because Harry is an impressionable young boy. I dread to think what wild notions he is picking up from you."
"I would hardly call an exhibit of Egyptian hieroglyphics wild."
"It is not the entertainment but your company that concerns me. You are scarcely the best influence, Nicholas."
"Brandon, please, my love."
Aurora raised her eyes to the sky. "It disturbs me that Harry is becoming so attached to you. I don't like to consider how disappointed he will be when you must leave." Or how she herself would feel. "He sees you as a hero because of all your adventures."
"From all reports, I don't hold a candle to his late brother for adventures. According to Harry, your Geoffrey was a spy."
Aurora shook her head. "Harry is quite mistaken. Geoffrey was the last man who would ever become involved in spying."
"Why do you say so?"
"He was far too intellectual. He always had his nose in a book."
"He sounds deadly dull."
The accusation irked her, yet Aurora found herself averting her gaze in chagrin. She had scarcely thought of Geoffrey in the fortnight since Nicholas's arrival in England.
A sharp ache filled her at the realization, along with a profound surge of guilt. How could she be so disloyal to Geoffrey's memory? She had known him all her life, but she could barely remember him now, his image was so eclipsed by Nicholas's vital presence.
Compared to Nicholas, he was only a shadow.
Aurora pressed her lips together, determined to conquer her disloyalty. "Geoffrey was a proper gentleman, yes," she replied curtly, "and a gentle man. He would never leave his home and family and risk his life simply for the thrill of it. Unlike some others I know," she added pointedly.
"Like I said… dull."
When Aurora bristled, Nicholas only grinned and gestured with his head toward a grove of trees beside the Serpentine. "I'll wager your dear Geoffrey would never have thought of bringing you here, or that you would ever have serviced him so delightfully if he had."
She realized they were passing the spot where Nicholas had brought her for a moonlit interlude, and she flushed. When she looked at him, though, the devilish light in his eyes faded, and so did the rest of the world.
Aurora froze, ensnared by the silent intensity of Nicholas's gaze. The raw tension that had lain simmering beneath the surface had returned in a heartbeat with the force of a blow… along with another dangerous emotion.
Desire. It flared up in her, swiftly, uncontrollably, at a single glance.
For the past two weeks she'd done her utmost to pretend indifference, to ignore the fierce longing Nicholas roused in her, but it was still keenly alive, smoldering between them.
At some point she would have to face it, Aurora realized. Unwilling, however, to deal with the issue just then, she forced her gaze away.
Yet she knew the volatile situation between them could not continue very much longer.
Even with Harry to shield her, Nicholas's pursuit of her showed no sign of abating, and it kept Aurora in a constant state of conflict. He was turning her life upside down, just as she feared, destroying her hard-won equanimity. It dismayed her, how vulnerable she was to him.