A Kiss to Remember Read online

  She should have been snuggled beneath her bedclothes, hugging her pillow and dreaming of the day to come. Instead, she was pacing back and forth across the bedchamber, nearly frantic with apprehension. She paused beside Lottie's iron bedstead to smooth a tumbled curl from her sister's cheek, envying her the sleep of the innocent.

  It was a luxury Laura hadn't enjoyed since the day she found Nicholas in the wood. And if she failed to heed the prodding of her conscience, it might very well be a luxury she would never enjoy again. She almost expected God to force her hand. Expected Him to send Dower galloping down the long curving drive with word that Nicholas already had a fiancée waiting for him back in London.

  Even if Dower failed to return before the wedding, she knew it wasn't too late to redeem herself. All she had to do was march across the darkened corridor to Lady Eleanor's bedchamber and confess all, throwing herself on the mercy of a man who would suddenly be a stranger.

  But then there would be no sunny wedding morning, no white crepe gown trimmed in Brussels lace, no towering bride cake iced with almond paste. There would be no Cookie beaming at her as she pinned a circlet of roses in her hair, no Lottie to hold her fragrant posy at the altar, and no George to offer his grudging congratulations as he was forced to admit that her plan had been a sound one after all.

  And there would be no Nicholas to gently lay his lips against hers, sealing their vows with a kiss.

  Laura could feel the tendrils of temptation securing themselves around her heart, as cunning and sinuous as the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Thinking only to escape their hold, she unlatched the window and threw it open, settling herself on the broad wooden sill. The night was warm and windy, thick with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. A fat slice of moon brightened the sky, defying the scudding clouds with its brilliance.

  It was the sort of night that sang of pagan enchantments, the sort of night that had always quickened Laura's blood and compelled her to throw off the constraints of her safe, tidy life. But now she knew the price of surrendering to those reckless urges.

  If she could only return to that moment when she had found Nicholas sleeping in the wood! Perhaps he would have fallen in love with her anyway. She would never know because she'd never given him the chance.

  Sighing forlornly, she rested her cheek against the window frame. It was as much of a sin to lie to herself as it was to lie to him. A man like Nicholas probably wouldn't have spared a glance for a humble country girl like her. A girl whose cheeks were sprinkled with freckles because she so rarely bothered to wear her bonnet. A girl whose nails weren't manicured, but were blunt and chipped from digging in the garden dirt. Winning his love would have been as unlikely as Apollo reaching down from the heavens to bestow his favors on a mortal maiden. He might have found her a pleasant enough diversion for a summer's day, but not for a lifetime.

  Laura gazed across the rolling lawn to the wood beyond—a wood draped in shadows and secrets. She had been so eager to believe Nicholas had tumbled from the heavens in answer to her prayer that she'd never bothered to explore any of the more rational explanations for his appearance that had been taunting her ever since that day. There had been no trace of hoofprints near the old oak, but it was entirely possible he could have been thrown from the other side of the gorge. Panicked at finding itself riderless in an unfamiliar wood, his mount might have bolted back the way it had come.

  Laura tensed, knowing what she must do. She might not be able to return to the moment when she had found him, but she could return to the place. Perhaps there was some clue to his identity that she had missed—an engraved snuffbox, a watch fob, papers that might have spilled from his pockets. She had no choice but to look. She owed him at least that much, even if what she found meant losing him forever.

  Laura didn't waste time dressing. She simply donned her shoes and threw a cloak over her nightdress, fearful she would lose her resolve if she lingered for too long. As she slipped from the room, the longcase clock in the foyer began to chime midnight.

  It should have been the second happiest night of Nicholas's life.

  The happiest night would come on the morrow when he took his bride to bed with the blessing of both the Church and the Crown. Then he would have every right to pluck the pins from Laura's hair until it came tumbling around her face in a sable cloud. Every right to loosen the ribbons at the throat of her nightdress and slip the sleek satin from her creamy shoulders. Every right to ease her back against the feather mattress and cover her softness with the hard, hungry heat of his body.

  He should have been sleeping, conserving his strength for the night to come, not prowling the bedchamber like a caged beast. It didn't help that his headache had returned, thudding dully at the front of his skull like a song once heard, but not quite remembered. He rubbed his brow with the flat of his palm, tempted to slip down to the drawing room and retrieve the decanter of brandy.

  But dulling his senses would mean dulling his instincts. Which wouldn't be so terrible, he thought with a humorless snort of laughter, if it meant he could go back to fooling himself into believing his bride wasn't harboring some dangerous secret that made her blush and stammer and nearly jump out of her skin every time he entered a room.

  Bracing his hands on the dressing table, he leaned down to study his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't blame Laura for being frightened of what he saw there. His hair was wild, his jaw hard. His mouth was drawn into a rigid line, erasing the dimple that usually hovered near his cheek. He didn't look like a man who was to exchange vows with the woman he loved only a few hours hence. He looked like a man contemplating murder.

  From somewhere in the house, a clock chimed midnight, each mournful bong bringing him closer to the moment when he would stride across the corridor to Laura's bedchamber, kick open the door, and demand the truth from her beautiful, lying lips.

  Frustrated beyond bearing, Nicholas slammed his hand down on the dressing table. The bottle of scent perched on its edge went tumbling to the carpet, flooding his every breath with the fragrance of orange blossoms. A needle of pain shot through his skull. Swearing, he staggered to the window and threw it open.

  A warm night wind swept through the chamber, its perfumed breath as subtle and beguiling as the scent of a woman's skin. Leaning against the window frame, Nicholas closed his eyes, allowing its gentle fingers to ruffle his hair and soothe both his aching brow and his rioting suspicions.

  When he opened them, a slender, cloaked figure was darting across the lawn below, her dark hair streaming behind her.

  Nicholas went numb, his blood chilling. He could think of only one reason a woman might abandon her cozy bed and brave the dangers of the dark on the night before her wedding. He watched her melt into the shadows of the forest through narrowed eyes, thankful for the numbness that deadened both the pain in his head and the pain in his heart.

  The ancient trees loomed out of the darkness like the gateway to another time. Their twisted limbs swayed in the wind, beckoning to Nicholas with a lover's grace. He stood at the edge of the wood where he had watched his betrothed disappear, knowing she'd left him with no choice but to follow.

  Moonlight silvered the branches overhead, but did little to penetrate the mossy shadows that draped the narrow footpath. The deeper he wandered, the deeper those shadows grew, swelling and darkening until they threatened to consume him. The whisper of the wind through the leaves was broken only by the eerie cry of some small, helpless creature meeting its doom. Although the sound sent a primal shiver of dread through Nicholas's soul, his steps remained sure and fleet. Deep in his heart, he knew he had nothing to fear.

  For he was the most dangerous predator roaming the wood on that night.

  Laura had never before braved the wood by night.

  As she wound her way through the labyrinth of trees, she was dismayed to find her sunny kingdom transformed into a fortress of gloom. She would have sworn she knew every rough-hewn rock and mossy hollow, but the chaotic web of shadow
s and moonlight rendered even the most recognizable landmarks foreign and forbidding.

  The wood no longer seemed the likely home of flitting fairies and giggling sprites but of hulking goblins out hunting a virgin bride for their king.

  She pressed on, determined not to let her childish fancies get the best of her. Without the sunny blue sky overhead, the thrill of danger had somehow lost its allure.

  Laura passed the same ghostly birch three times before she realized she had been wandering in an ever-narrowing circle. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, struggling to catch both her breath and her bearings. Her errand was beginning to seem like a fool's quest. But even if she didn't find a single clue to Nicholas's true identity, at least she would have the comfort of knowing she had tried when she stood before the altar with him on the morrow.

  Knocking a twig from her hair, she set off at a brisk pace, determined to reach the ancient oak where she had first found him. She was leaping over a narrow stream when something behind her let out a shriek that was quickly silenced between the jaws of some more powerful creature. Her foot plunged into the chill water. She glanced over her shoulder, unable to shake the sensation that something just might be pursuing her with equal hunger.

  A faint, but unmistakable, crackling in the underbrush reached her ears. She lurched into a run, ducking overhanging branches and dodging tangled roots that sought to snag the hem of her cloak with their bony fingers. She might have gone on running forever if she hadn't stumbled out of the shadows into the very clearing she had been seeking.

  The old oak stood sentinel at the edge of the gorge, its broad boughs promising respite for the weary traveler. Moonlight spilled through a break in the foliage just as the sunlight had done on the day she had found Nicholas, weaving an enchantment older than time.

  Laura blinked, thinking there could be only one explanation for what she saw. She must have dozed off in the window of her bedchamber, must have dreamed her mad flight through the wood.

  For Nicholas stood beneath those sheltering boughs, one foot propped on a gnarled root. The moonlight gilded his hair, cast hollows beneath his regal cheekbones.

  She drifted toward him, finding him every bit as irresistible as she had on that hazy summer afternoon.

  "There's really no need to hide your disappointment, my dear," he said, his voice both tender and mocking. "I realize you must have been expecting someone else."

  His words snapped her out of her daze. She suddenly became aware of the unpleasant way her sodden shoe squelched with each step, the stinging scratches on her arms, the dew-soaked hem of her cloak dragging on the ground behind her.

  "I can't imagine what you mean," she said, startled into blurting out the truth. "It's the middle of the night. I wasn't expecting anyone at all."

  His face hardened, making him look more like a stranger than ever before. "You can spare me any more of your lies, Laura. I know everything."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

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  I fear her impetuous nature

  might lead her into harm's way.

  This wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.

  "Everything? You know everything?" Laura winced when the word ended on a high-pitched squeak.

  "Everything," he repeated, taking a carefully measured step toward her. "Surely you didn't think you could fool me forever, did you?"

  She took a step backward. "Well, I was rather hoping…"

  "I have to admit you were very convincing. You're quite the little actress. Have you ever considered taking to the stage?"

  "Oh, no." She shook her head passionately. "Lottie was blessed with all the dramatic talent in the family. Although Lady Eleanor would never say an unkind word about my abilities or the lack of them, she always cast me as the back end of a donkey or some other nonspeaking role during our Christmas theatricals." Laura sighed. "Now that I think about it, I feel rather like the back end of a donkey."

  "You're probably wondering how I guessed, aren't you? I suppose it will surprise you to learn that I've had my suspicions all along."

  Laura was stunned. "Yet you never breathed a word?"

  He drew near enough to touch her, but didn't. "I was hoping I was wrong." A bitter laugh escaped him. "There's really no need for you to torture yourself, darling. In the end, I have only myself to blame."

  "How… how can you say that?"

  "Because I was a damn fool to ever leave you in the first place. It wasn't fair of me to expect a woman with your fire and passion to wait so long for me. I should have married you the first time I laid eyes on you." His words were no less puzzling than the tenderness of his fingers against her cheek or the husky note of regret in his voice. "Will you answer one question for me? I believe you owe me that much."

  "Anything," she whispered, mesmerized by the shadow of pain that had darkened his eyes to amber.

  "Did you come here tonight to bid your lover farewell or did you plan to continue your assignations after we were wed?"

  Laura stared at him, struggling to make sense of his words. "Why, I… I…"

  Nicholas stilled her stammering with his thumb, running it lightly over her trembling lips. "It's a pity the truth doesn't come as easily as a lie to those lovely lips of yours. Perhaps I should have asked you if you were thinking of him every time I took you into my arms." He slipped one arm around her waist, drawing her against him. "Was it his face you saw when you closed your eyes?" Laura's eyes fluttered shut as Nicholas brushed his lips against the feathery softness of her lashes. Those lips followed the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. "Does he make you shiver and sigh with longing every time his lips touch yours?"

  It wasn't a sigh but a moan that escaped Laura as Nicholas's mouth took full possession of hers. She didn't shiver, she quaked. If he hadn't wrapped his other arm around her waist, tucking her into the surging power of his body, she might even have swooned. This was not the kiss of a suitor seeking to woo his bride. This was a pirate's kiss—a kiss that gave no quarter and took no prisoners. A kiss more than willing to steal what might not be freely given. His tongue ravished her mouth, thrusting deep with a silky heat that made Laura melt against him. Beyond thought, beyond everything but the exquisite hunger his kiss ignited, she cupped his nape in her palm, urging him even deeper.

  "Damn you, woman!" he muttered, burying his mouth in her hair. Although his words were harsh, his arms tightened, binding her even closer to his pounding heart. "How can you kiss me like that when your heart belongs to another?"

  His words finally penetrated Laura's besotted brain. As relief washed over her in a warm tide, she shoved against his chest and went stumbling backward, cupping a hand over her mouth too late to contain her ripple of laughter.

  Nicholas looked at her darkly. "First you scorn my affections, then you dare to mock me. My compliments, Miss Fairleigh. You're even more heartless than I suspected."

  Try as she might, Laura couldn't quite wipe the lopsided grin from her lips or hide the bemused adoration in her eyes. "Why, you foolish man! Is that what you believe? That I came here to rendezvous with a lover?"

  "Didn't you?" he demanded, somehow managing to look both dangerous and vulnerable in the moonlight.

  Laura shook her head helplessly, taking one step toward him, then another. "Of course not. You should have known such a thing was impossible."

  "Why?"

  He held himself stiff as she reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips lingering against the spot where his dimple should be. "Because you're the only man I've ever wanted."

  Rising up on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his. She kissed him as she hadn't had the courage to do that first day in the wood, licking at his mouth with an innocent abandon that melted the last of his defenses. His arms came up, wrapping themselves around her with fierce strength.

  Threading a hand through her hair, he tilted her head back so he could gaze deep into her luminous eyes.

  "If you didn't come here to meet a lov
er," he said hoarsely, "then why did you come?"

  "For this," she whispered, refusing to profane the moment with a careless lie. "I came for this." Before he could question her further, she seized the front of his shirt and dragged his lips back down to hers, giving him the only answer he needed.

  Laura knew in that moment that she had been just as great a fool as he had. It wasn't the wood or the moonlight that had woven the enchantment around her heart; it was this man. She had fallen beneath his spell the moment she had first touched her lips to his. Even as he bewitched her with his mouth, his hands were working their own deft magic, unfastening the frog at the throat of her cloak and easing the garment open.

  He drew back to stare down at her, a sharp exhalation escaping him. Whatever he had expected to find beneath the cloak, it plainly wasn't her nightdress.

  "You idiot child," he murmured, the chiding words somehow becoming an endearment. "Are you trying to catch your death of a chill?"

  "There's little enough danger of that," Laura assured him, shivering beneath the possessive heat of his gaze. "On the contrary, I seem to have contracted a raging fever."

  His warm lips grazed the pulse beating madly beneath the fragile skin of her throat. "Then perhaps you should lie down."

  If they had been in the drawing room of the manor, she might have offered a halfhearted protest, but here in this pagan wilderness it seemed only natural that her cloak should slip from her shoulders to the bed of leaves behind her. Even more natural that Nicholas should gently lower her into its welcoming folds. As he covered her, his big, strong body blocking out the moonlight, Laura knew that she was no longer flirting with danger but welcoming it with open arms. Prince or goblin king, she would willingly go wherever he wished to take her.