Ravished

  She slipped down from the rail and dashed the tears from her eyes with an impatient hand. “Nick, I simply cannot bear what your father did to you!”

  His steps slowed to a halt. “So, Rupert couldn’t wait to tell you.” Nicholas was angry that Alexandra had been told of his misfortune, yet he knew it was inevitable. The news would spread faster than wildfire, for gossip was far more difficult to contain. Suddenly, Alex smiled through her tears, and he was reminded of the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud.

  “It’s all right, Nick. I have the solution to all your money troubles. You don’t need his rotten money—you can have mine!”

  “Yours?” The cool note in his voice held a warning.

  “I’m an heiress. If you marry me, you’ll be rich!”

  Nicholas Hatton stepped back from her as the slight anger he was feeling exploded into fury. She was actually crying tears of pity for him. The profound insult was like a blow to his solar plexus. The idea that a woman, any woman, could feel sorry for him mauled his pride. The thought that this particular woman who was so dear to his heart felt sorry for him was unendurable. “Alex, I shall pretend I did not hear that,” he said stiffly.

  “Piss and piffle! It is the solution to all your problems.”

  His jaw clenched like a lump of iron, and he tried to suppress the rage he felt. If a man had uttered such a thing to him, he would have struck him. With rigid control he demanded, “What on earth gives you the notion that you must solve my problems?”

  “Because I care about you, Nicholas!” she cried passionately.

  His wrath turned to chagrin. He had no right to be enraged at Alexandra. She was so sweetly innocent and touchingly naive, to say nothing of overwhelmingly generous, it brought a lump to his throat. It did not diminish his humiliation, however. Without knowing it, she had struck at his very manhood. She saw him as a victim, a pathetic victim who needed her charity. “How can you cast me in the role of a fortune hunter who would marry you for your money, when you have feared such a fate all your life?” His voice was so deep, it sounded like a growl.

  She closed the small distance between them. “Nicholas, I care about you more than I care about money!” She gripped his arms with her small hands to emphasize her words and looked up at him in supplication.

  “What sort of a man would I be, if I allowed you to sacrifice yourself through some sense of misguided sympathy?” His eyes were the gray of storm clouds.

  She thought of his rigid honor, his unwavering integrity that made him dismiss all her pleading arguments. She shivered; he was so wickedly handsome, yet so stern and powerful. “For God’s sake, Nick, I don’t feel sympathy; you must know that what I feel is lo—”

  “Alexandra!” He used her name as an invocation to stop her words, to prevent her from uttering such blasphemy. He was well aware that Alex thought she loved him, but knew he must disabuse her of such a notion immediately. His mind darted about like quicksilver, searching for a way to make her understand once and for all that he could never take advantage of a love-struck girl without coming to loathe himself. On top of everything else, Alex was taboo to him because it was known by all that she was his brother’s future bride. Nicholas did not want to hurt her, but he realized it was the only way. He had no choice.

  He took hold of her hand gently and held her gaze with his. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, Alexandra, but marriage between us is out of the question. I have always thought of you as my little sister, Alex. It would be impossible for me to think of you in any other way.”

  She looked up at him in dismay. His words made him seem far older than he was and emphasized the difference in their ages. Like a mature man addressing a child, he gently pointed out that the gulf between them could never be narrowed, that their feelings for each other were totally disparate.

  He released her hand and patted her head, ruffling the bright curls. “This infatuation you feel will vanish like a puff of smoke once you go to London and are swept up in the social whirl.”

  Alexandra wished that the earth would open up and swallow her. She had never felt more gauche in her entire life. Her cheeks were stained with the humiliation of his rejection, and inside her chest, her heart actually hurt as if cruel, ruthless fingers had just crushed it. She dropped her lashes so that he would not see the pain reflected in her eyes and brushed imaginary dust from the skirt of her riding habit. “I promised to help Dottie with dinner … We are between cooks at the moment,” she said awkwardly.

  Nick fought the impulse to gather her in his arms and hold her until she stopped hurting. He knew he must be cruel to be kind. He forced himself to remain still as she untied Zephyr’s reins and mounted. Her back was ramrod straight and her chin high as she galloped off in the direction of Longford Manor. Only when she was out of sight did he mount Renegade and ride home.

  Kit Hatton was directing Mr. Burke and the valet he shared with his twin as they packed for London. Nick decided to wait until dinner to tell his brother of the disquieting reception he had received at Eaton Place. He went to his chamber and did his own packing, knowing that Kit would monopolize the servants.

  Kit arrived in the dining room preoccupied with tomorrow’s journey to London. “Oh, I forgot you visited Eaton today. Did you have any trouble convincing them you were Lord Hatton?”

  “When I rode in on Renegade, they assumed that I was you.”

  “Did you learn anything, or was it a complete waste of time?”

  “I learned that John Eaton lives in splendor. I learned that Jeremy envies you your title.”

  Kit picked up his fork and laughed. “Who wouldn’t? Here I sit, Lord of the Manor at just twenty-one, dining on my own trout from my own river.”

  Nick watched his brother covertly to gauge his reaction. “Jeremy hinted that he knew something about the hunting accident.”

  Kit put down his fork. The trout seemed to have lost its appeal. “What did the snotty swine say?”

  “He said the name Harm was more suitable to you than Lord Hatton.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” Kit said defensively.

  “I challenged him immediately, demanding if he was accusing me of something.”

  “What did he say?” Christopher asked, holding his breath.

  “Nothing whatsoever.”

  Kit laughed. “There you are then. He’s simply green with envy that I have a title and he never will!” Because Mr. Burke was otherwise employed, a young serving maid brought in the second course and removed the fish. “What’s your name?” Kit asked, immediately distracted from the conversation by the female servant.

  She bobbed a curtsy. “Ellen, my lord.”

  Kit’s glance swept over her from nose to knees. “Very pretty,” he drawled. When her cheeks flushed scarlet he laughed. “Better stay out of Harm’s way,” he teased.

  “John Eaton reassured me again and again that he had your best interests at heart and would take great care of your investments.” As soon as Nicholas spoke, the maid spied her chance to escape.

  “Nothing to worry about then.”

  “I didn’t believe him,” Nick said flatly.

  “Father wouldn’t have used him as his financial agent if he hadn’t made money, cousin or no cousin.”

  “That’s true. Father had a nose for money, and Eaton wouldn’t have dared cheat him. I tried to convey the impression that the present Lord Hatton also has a nose for money. I asked him for a complete accounting, and when he tried to put me off by telling me these things took time, I told him I would expect it in two days.”

  “But we’ll be in London in two days.”

  Nick schooled himself to patience. “I told him to send it to Curzon Street.”

  “You know, old man, you have an extremely suspicious nature.”

  “No, if I had a suspicious nature, I’d think you had dishonorable designs on young Ellen.”

  Kit almost choked with laughter, then threw down his napkin. “You
are a shrewd bastard, Hazard Hatton. I warrant John Eaton would have one hell of a time cheating you.”

  You’re wrong, Kit. He has already cheated me. “It is you I wish to keep Eaton from cheating.”

  “Now that Father is gone, don’t think to set yourself up as my guardian, Nick. It is most insulting to imply that I am not as shrewd as you are, either regarding money matters or human nature. I believe I am quite capable of handling my own affairs. Since everything is now mine—including the servants—I’ll thank you not to meddle. Perhaps you should concentrate on your own problem. If I were in your shoes, I would solve my dilemma immediately by marrying money.” Kit held up his hand when he saw Nick open his mouth to reply. “Pardon my presumption in advising someone with your great wisdom; I warrant the predatory lion has already marked his prey.”

  Nick’s pride had taken too many blows today. He knew he must remove himself from his twin’s presence to prevent violence from erupting. “A truce? I shan’t meddle in your affairs if you don’t meddle in mine.”

  Later, as he lay in bed, Nick realized that he had done to his brother what Alexandra had done to him. Presuming to solve someone’s problem implied that he was not capable of doing it himself. He had not intended to offend Kit; nevertheless, his twin had taken offense, and Nick decided that this was a good sign. If he was ready to take on the responsibilities of the vast Hatton estate, it would free Nick to get on with his own life.

  He pushed away thoughts and suspicions about Jeremy and John Eaton. He had warned Kit, and decided that was enough; he would keep his word and meddle no further. Though he tried to banish thoughts of Alex, she pervaded his senses. She had offered herself up to him, and her compassion and generosity filled him with awe. Here in the solitude of his own chamber, he admitted how tempted he had been. He searched his motives honestly and knew the temptation had nothing to do with her money. She was adventurous and hungry for life. Courage and laughter were second nature to her. She had wit, intelligence, and a radiant beauty that came from within. Nick let out a slow breath of appreciation; her glorious red-gold curls and long slim legs weren’t bad either! She was a prize beyond compare, and Nick couldn’t deny that he coveted her.

  He closed his eyes and imagined that her fragrance of jasmine stole to him in the darkness. As he drifted into sleep, her presence permeated his dreams.

  Nicholas found himself entering the doors of the ancient Hatton church and realized with joy that it was his wedding day. It was, however, a pagan ceremony, and as he approached his bride, he saw that a sleeping Alexandra was lying naked upon the altar, amid glowing candles and flowers of jasmine. His mind denied that she was a sacrificial offering, as his possessive glance roamed freely over her alabaster flesh and the red-gold curls that covered her high mons. He bent his dark head and placed his lips upon her heart in a reverent kiss that sealed their union. He removed his dark cape and draped it over her exquisite body, cloaking her innocence. Then he lifted her and with infinite tenderness carried her to his bed. He laid her down upon linen sheets, whiter than driven snow, and worshipped her with his eyes. The moment he threaded his fingers into her silken curls and claimed her lips, she lifted her lashes, slipped her arms about his neck, and arched her body to fit his. The mating that followed was a wild, pagan affair, erotic, exotic, and sensual in the extreme. They lay panting, entwined in each other’s arms, when a knock came upon the chamber door. He heard his twin’s voice clearly. “I have come to claim my bride.” Wildly, Nick looked down at the lovely female in his arms and saw the vivid spots of crimson blood upon the pristine sheet. “Judas! What have I done?”

  Nick awoke with a start. His body was glistening with perspiration. Christ, it had happened again. He swung his legs out of bed and paced the chamber like a lion in his cage. With relief he remembered that tomorrow he was leaving for London. The sooner he put a safe distance between himself and Alexandra, the better it would be for all of them. And never again must he imagine making love to her; not even in his dreams!

  The moment she got home, Alex wanted to retreat to her own chamber to lick her wounds. Three obstacles—dinner, Dottie, and Rupert—stood squarely in her way. She surveyed the larder with dismay; its contents were diminishing in alarming fashion. She picked up a cold ham, along with some vegetables from the garden, and entered the kitchen with resolution, prepared to tackle the evening meal.

  “I shall help you, darling,” Dottie declared brightly.

  “Cooking is not your forte,” Alex said decisively, taking a carving knife from Dottie’s hand before she did herself an injury.

  Rupert came into the kitchen with a look of desperation on his face. “Alex, I’m at my wit’s end. You must help me pack for London. My valet has deserted me and I am flummoxed!”

  “It will have to wait until after dinner.”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  “Because, Rude Rupert, I have been appointed head cook and bottle-wash. Unless you would care to take over?”

  He threw up his hands in horror. “This is a madhouse; I shall be glad to see the back of it.”

  “When you are gone, there will be one less lunatic,” Dottie pointed out. And one less mouth to feed.

  Alex met the challenge of dinner, but later, when she stood on the threshold of Rupert’s chamber, her courage almost failed her. The entire contents of his wardrobe engulfed both bed and carpet in a storm-swept sea of clothing.

  In an effort to help, Rupert gathered together a dozen clean neckcloths and held them out. “These need starch.”

  Alex swallowed a curse and deftly dodged the chore. “It would be far more practical to starch them when they are unpacked.” She eyed his valises that stood gaping, ready to be filled, and sent him off to the attic. “As well as these, you will need a large trunk, perhaps two. You have morning, evening, and riding clothes. You have greatcoats, boots, hats, and wigs, to say nothing of shirts and waistcoats.”

  “I need a valet,” he said plaintively.

  “You need a kick up the arse!”

  “There’s no need to be offensive, Alex.”

  “Then stop offending me. You are about as much use as a chocolate teapot!”

  “Perhaps Dottie is right; I need a wife. She suggested that marriage would solve my problems.”

  Alexandra saw how easily he accepted such a solution, and suddenly the contrast between him and Nicholas Hatton was brought home to her. Rupert was an immature youth, while Nicholas was a man, and Alex realized that that was Nick’s great attraction; she wouldn’t want him any other way.

  It was late when she retired, and she fought the impulse to fling herself upon her bed and cry herself to sleep. Though her emotions had been deeply wounded, she knew that sooner or later she was going to have to come to terms with reality. Nick Hatton did not return her affection. She told herself that it was her own fault that she felt such despair. Dottie had warned her since she was a child that she must follow her head rather than her heart. Under no circumstances must she ever fall in love, for love was disastrous. She told herself that she would get over him, but deep down inside Alexandra knew it was a lie.

  The pain in her heart slowly melted away and was replaced by a feeling of excitement. She felt the wind in her face, felt it whipping her long hair into a wild tangle, heard herself laughing with sheer joy as she bent low over Zephyr’s sleek black neck and urged her to gallop faster. She was in a race with Christopher and Nicholas Hatton and she was the prize! She turned her head to watch Kit astride Renegade and knew he could outrun her mare. He was so handsome mounted upon the black stallion that she longed to sketch him and capture this moment forever. She smiled a secret smile when he pulled ahead of her. She turned her head to the other side to watch Nick astride Slate and felt jubilant. She had bet her entire fortune upon the gray, but it had little to do with the horse. It was the man riding the gray on whom she had put her money. Her secret smile widened as she watched him pull ahead. The two horses in front of her were full-out now. They were w
ell matched, and their satiny sinews strained forward with brutal strength. The animals were even, head to head, and it looked as if the race would end in a draw, but Alexandra knew better. She raised her eyes to the man riding the gray and saw his teeth flash in a smile that told her how much Hazard Hatton was enjoying himself. She shivered as she saw his male power dominate and harness the power of the animal beneath him. Then, triumphantly, his horse surged over the finish line ahead of the black Thoroughbred.

  Alexandra was mesmerized just looking at him. Her blood pounded exactly as his did. Simply watching him thrilled and excited her. His linen shirt clung to his chest and the cords of his neck pulsed with the glory of being alive as he reached up and lifted her down from the saddle. As she went down into his arms, she knew that it was not so much that he liked to win; she knew he could not bear to lose. Twin he might be, but to Alexandra there was no man on earth like him.

  Handclasped, they ran laughing into the stables. When he pulled her down into the hay, she went willingly. His possessive hand slipped inside her doublet, and as his warm palm cupped her breast, she felt it harden with desire. The fingers of his other hand traced a tantalizing path up the inside of her thigh. As his dark head dipped to take possession of her mouth, she whispered breathlessly, “Nicholas, are you really going to make love to me?”

  Suddenly, Alexandra’s eyes flew open. Her hand went to her hair, which was now cropped short, and she felt a pang of regret over its loss. When she realized that it had only been a dream, she experienced a far greater loss and could hold back the tears no longer. She sat up in bed and hugged her knees. If she was ever to get over her longing for Nick Hatton, she knew she must put distance between them. In the morning, she would talk Dottie into their going to London with Rupert.

  Chapter Nine

  Alexandra’s feet touched the floor long before sunrise, and by seven she was packed for London. When Rupert opened his door to her polite tap, he was standing amidst his trunks and valises. “After you’ve taken your luggage down, will you come back up for mine?”