A sob caught in her throat, while a surge of nausea rose up to choke her; she had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle it.
This was what violence had done to him, she thought despairingly, fighting the storm of fury and helplessness that raged inside her. Yet Harry was alive, that was what mattered most. She had not been able to protect him, but he was alive.
Needing that reassurance, she reached down to touch his face. The boy stirred in his sleep, but didn't awaken. She drew a shuddering breath.
"Come," Nicholas murmured softly behind her. "He needs to rest after his ordeal."
Reluctant to leave, she tenderly brushed a disheveled lock of hair from the boy's forehead, then forced herself to turn away. After the strain and terror of the past hours, she suddenly felt drained, empty.
She hardly noticed where Nicholas was taking her, but found herself in a small but well-appointed cabin. She didn't resist when he led her to the bunk and pressed her to sit down.
He went straight to a cabinet and poured her a finger of brandy, then returned to her.
"Here, drink," he said, holding the glass to her lips.
The potent liquor burned like fire. Aurora shuddered as she swallowed, then pushed it away. Bending her head, she covered her face with her hands.
"I told you he was safe," Nicholas finally said.
Her shoulders quivered with involuntary trembles. "I know. I was just so afraid…"
"You didn't truly think I would harm him?"
Mutely, Aurora shook her head. She knew Nicholas wouldn't hurt even a strand of Harry's blond hair, yet he was the worst kind of influence on an impressionable boy…
"You said you meant to teach him a lesson," she said, her muffled reply more a question than accusation.
"I do. In the morning I intend to put him to work swabbing decks and checking rigging."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to learn just how difficult life at sea can be."
Lifting her head, she stared at him. "Harry cannot possibly become a sailor, Nicholas. It is too dangerous. By keeping him on your ship, you will only be abetting his ambition – "
"It is far more dangerous to leave him to strike out on his own." Putting down the brandy glass, Nicholas sat beside her on the bunk. "The boy has a fever, Aurora. A burning desire that won't be quenched. Believe me, I know. I was just like him when I was that age. Perhaps it's hard for you to understand since you've never experienced anything like it, but Harry will have to pursue his ambition until either it burns out or it's satisfied. Either way, you cannot cure his fever by sheltering him from life. He will only resent you for it – the way he now resents his mother. The way I did my father."
"But I am responsible for him."
"And certainly you want to protect him. But he needs the guidance of a man, Aurora. I can give him that."
"He doesn't need the kind of guidance you could provide. You will only teach him violence. I abhor violence, Nicholas. After seeing all the terrible things my father did – "
"I have no intention of teaching Harry to be violent, sweetheart," he said gently. "Only to stand up for himself." When she was silent, Nicholas added more forcefully, "You cannot keep him wrapped in cotton wool forever, Aurora. Certainly not by keeping him imprisoned in the safe little sanctuary you've built for yourself."
Her throat tightening in despair, she looked away. "But… he is just a boy. I couldn't bear it if something happened to him and I was to blame."
"Then you should allow me to determine the safest way for him to explore his ambition."
When she wouldn't reply, Nicholas tilted her face back to his with a light touch of his fingers. "You said you trusted me."
She returned his gaze helplessly. His eyes were deep and quiet and searching, the strong planes of his face intent.
Aurora swallowed convulsively as pain congealed in her chest like a deep bruise. "I do trust you," she whispered.
His face softened, while his thumb brushed her lower lip with a featherlight pressure. At his gentleness, she blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Closing her eyes, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. Crying never solved anything. Tears were useless in stopping the pain.
And yet she couldn't help herself. A sob escaped her, followed by another. And suddenly she couldn't stop.
When she felt Nicholas's arms come around her, she turned her face to his shoulder and wept as all the tension of the past day – indeed, all the dark emotions of the past year, fear, grief, loss – came pouring out.
Her body shook in racking sobs while the tears came. Nicholas simply held her, cradling her trembling body in his arms.
When finally her tears subsided, Aurora realized she was lying on the bunk with him, her head pressed into the curve of his neck. His hand gently stroked her hair as she clung to him, and she could feel the night stubble on his jaw grazing the softer skin of her cheek.
Eventually she took a deep, quavering breath. "I am sorry…" she murmured, her voice husky from crying.
"Don't be." His lips brushed against her temple. "Here."
He drew a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe away the dampness from her face.
Aurora lay unresisting for his ministrations, like a child. She hadn't the energy or the will to move.
"You were right," she murmured. "I am a coward."
"No," Nicholas replied softly. "But you've let fear rule you for too long."
She sighed when his warm lips touched her eyelids. She wanted to lie like this forever, safe in Nicholas's arms, pressed against his hardness, his warmth, sheltered and protected and cherished.
The intimacy of their embrace, however, had a starkly different effect on Nick. When Aurora nestled closer, he went still, his heartbeat quickening and deepening. Awareness of her flooded his senses, while a wave of longing hit him, colliding with the breath he was trying to take.
He wanted to comfort her. Wanted to ease her fear, her sadness, to erase that anguish and despair from her beautiful face. But even more, he wanted her.
Almost involuntarily, his lips began moving upon her flushed face, savoring the velvety texture of her soft skin. When she stirred against him, an ache started deep in his groin like a lick of fire.
Nicholas drew a steadying breath, struggling for control as hunger shuddered through his body. How had it happened, this deep and powerful need of her? He couldn't deny it any longer…
Urgently he molded her soft lips to fit his, desire flaring through his senses as he took her mouth. She gave a soft murmur of protest at his sudden move, yet he kept up his tender assault and felt a surge of triumph when her mouth turned hot and pliant under his.
Then suddenly she drew back, her palms pressing against his chest. Her breath came in soft pants as she regarded him, her blue eyes wide with dismay.
Nicholas drew a sharp breath, struggling to check his savage need. She wanted him, he knew. When he touched her throat, he could feel the wildness of her pulse.
"I intend to make love to you, Aurora," he warned hoarsely, his voice raw with desire. "If you want me to stop, then tell me now."
He lay still, waiting, drawn as tight as a bowstring. His loins were full and aching for her, his heartbeat like an anvil in his chest. Yet it had to be her decision this time.
Aurora stared into his eyes, drowning in the sheer intensity of the dark depths. She didn't want his lovemaking, his passion, and yet she couldn't fight his tenderness, the stirring kisses that were so sweet and so fierce. She no longer had any defenses against him.