Lovers Forever, page 7
Tess started violently, finally breaking the hypnotic hold of the stranger’s compelling black eyes. Breathlessly she turned on her heels and fled the room, hardly even aware of the rattle and clatter of the dishes on the tray that she still carried in her shaking hands.
It took but a moment to stammer out the innkeeper’s demand, and after Mrs. Darley had bustled out of the kitchen, Tess sank onto a chair. Almost absently she noticed that her hands were still shaking, and more than any other time since she had first awakened with no memory, she wished desperately that she could remember who she was and what her past had been. Did she really know that gentleman in the caped greatcoat? Or had she just imagined the strange thrill of recognition that had gone through her when their eyes had met?
There was no time for further reflection—Mrs. Darley, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with pleasure, came sailing back into the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, everyone! We’ve the earl of Sherbourne staying with us tonight! It’s only the weather that we have to thank for this unexpected boon, but if we can make a good impression, do everything necessary to see that he thoroughly enjoys himself tonight, I’m sure that we can expect Lord Sherbourne and his fancy friends to stop at the Black Pig regularly.” She glanced archly at Tess. “My Harry noticed that His Lordship seemed quite taken with you, so perhaps you’re going to prove yourself useful after all!”
Mrs. Darley’s words didn’t help Tess’s state of mind at all, and she was suddenly conscious of feeling that pretending to be Tom Darley’s fancy piece, even for one night, was possibly the worst thing that she could have done! She sprang to her feet and said urgently, “Mrs. Darley, there is something I must tell you. There has been a mistake. I’m not what you think I am!”
“Oh, now, don’t get all in a flutter, my girl,” Mrs. Darley returned lightly. “No one’s asking you to do something you haven’t done a dozen times already. And, oh my, ain’t the earl a handsome fellow!” Feeling that she had settled the matter, Mrs. Darley turned to the two young servants who waited with excited expectancy and began to give out a long list of chores that had to be done immediately. Once she had both of them flying about the room intent upon their tasks, her attention returned to Tess. “Now come along, girl, and don’t be shy—at the moment, all you need to do is help Mr. Darley serve His Lordship his dinner in our private parlor. I’m the one who will be upstairs working my fingers to the bone preparing his room!”
The innkeeper himself suddenly appeared on the threshold of the kitchen and said sharply, “Dolly, get yourself out here! His Lordship’s port is ready.”
When Tess hesitated, a protest forming on her lips, Mr. Darley stepped forward, his face darkening. Grasping her arm, he gave her a brutal shake. “I’ll have none of your airs, my fine little madame! The earl’s plainly taken with you, and by God, I’ll not have you ruining this opportunity! Upset him in any way and you’ll rue the day you ever crossed Henry Darley! If you doubt me—we’ll just see how proud you act after I’ve taken a stout rod to you a few times! Now come along! And put a smile on that sour face of yours!”
He jerked Tess after him, not releasing the painful grip on her upper arm until they had returned to the main room. There was no sign of the earl, but as Darley tossed aside her arm, he said, “His Lordship is in the parlor, right across the hall there. Take this tray in and make damn sure you give good service or you’ll have me to answer to!” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve ways of dealing with servants who upset the customers.”
Tess swallowed with difficulty, her mouth suddenly dry as last year’s straw. The urge to flee was strong, but self-preservation was equally strong. She was fairly positive that if she had to suffer at anyone’s hands, she would much prefer the unknown earl to the savage punishment Darley would mete out . . . at least she thought she would. She wasn’t so certain a few minutes later, when, carrying the heavy tray covered with all sorts of liquors to tempt an aristocratic palate, she tapped on the door to the private parlor and the earl’s deep voice wrapped itself warmly about her as he bade her enter.
Her heart beating so frantically she thought it would leap out of her chest, Tess pushed open the door and entered the parlor. It was a surprisingly pleasant little room; crisp muslin curtains hung over the double windows along one wall, a newly made fire leaped cheerily on the hearth, many candles in brass holders were scattered about, and there was a fine old carpet on the floor. Two worn overstuffed leather chairs were placed invitingly on either side of the fire; a carved oak sideboard and a small oak table with chairs to match constituted the remainder of the furnishings. But it was the man who stood with his back to the fire as he warmed himself who commanded Tess’s entire attention.
He had removed his many-caped greatcoat, and she noted the intricate arrangement of his starched white cravat and the way his dark blue jacket fit his broad shoulders and powerful arms. His buff breeches boldly outlined every muscle and sinew of his thighs, but after one quick peek at his thoroughly masculine form, Tess kept her eyes firmly fixed on the tray in her hands. She crossed the room as quickly as she could and, her back to him, set the tray on the oak sideboard. Her voice brittle, she said, “If there is anything else you desire, Your Lordship, Mr. Darley says to let him know and he’ll see that you have it right away.”
Appreciatively regarding the stiff narrow back and slender hips presented to him, Nicolas decided there was a great deal that he desired and found it highly doubtful Mr. Darley could provide him with what he wanted. His black eyes narrowed. Then again, who knew—perhaps a word with Mr. Darley might insure that his bed was warmed this night by the unexpectedly bewitching little creature across the room from him....
The Black Pig was not the sort of establishment that Nicolas frequented these days, although before inheriting the title he had spent quite a bit of time in places like it, not quite respectable yet not unrespectable. If the nasty weather hadn’t made it impossible to travel onward, he wouldn’t have stopped tonight and might even now be standing comfortably before his own fire at Sherbourne Court. But the weather had been exceedingly treacherous, and he’d been inordinately grateful when he’d caught sight of the faint lights of the tavern winking dimly through the driving wind and rain. But if in the beginning it had only been shelter for which he’d been grateful, that was no longer the case—and hadn’t been since he had first ducked through the archway into the main room of the tavern and caught sight of the girl....
Even now, just staring at her as she fiddled nervously with the various bottles and glasses on the tray, he could feel the same sense of familiarity, of having known her before; could feel the same sudden hot passion that had flared deep in his belly when his eyes had met hers. But it was the strong, almost overpowering sense of possession, a certainty that she was his, that puzzled him greatly. He’d swear he’d never seen her before, and yet . . . Consideringly, his eyes traveled over the bright hair, the fiery tendrils that escaped the untidy braid and caressed her cheeks and neck. His gaze was caught by one particular wispy curl, right where her neck joined her shoulder, and he knew an urge to cross the room and place his lips right on that exact spot.
The urge was so powerful that Nicolas had taken an impetuous step forward before he realized what he was doing, and only the knowledge that he would not be able to stop with a mere kiss enabled him to remain in his position near the fire. He scowled blackly. What the devil was the matter with him? Had it been that long since he’d had a woman?
A trifle embarrassed by his own reactions to a complete stranger, Nicolas cleared his throat and said, “Uh, no, there’s nothing else I need for the time being. Just something to eat when it is ready. You may go now.”
Hardly daring to believe that she was going to escape so easily, Tess turned and sent him a blinding smile . . . which proved to be a bad mistake. Their eyes met across the room and time stood still, the world falling away until there was just the two of them staring at each other.
Tess could not have moved if her life had depended upon it. As if waking from a long and terrible dream to find herself safe and cherished, she stared at his face, taking in the high cheekbones and the bold jut of his nose. It was an arrogant face, a hard face, but it was those large, thickly lashed eyes, eyes of such a compelling blackness that she felt as if she were drowning in their unfathomable darkness every time she met them, that made him more than just a handsome man. Those eyes and that mouth . . .
Her gaze dropped to his lips, almost dreamily traveling over its chiseled shape. The upper lip was thin, with a hint of cruelty about it, but the lower lip was full and generous, a sensual curve inherent in its form. As she stared at it, the urge to touch it with her own became almost unbearable. She knew what those lips would feel like against her own, how warm they would be, how firm and knowing they would be as they moved on hers.... Hardly aware of what she was doing, the need to be in his arms suddenly overpowering, she began to drift slowly toward him.
As transfixed as she, Nicolas met her in the middle of the room, his arms sweeping her into a powerful embrace as his head lowered and his mouth met hers. Drowning in the sweetness he found, he pulled her closer, the soft brush of her body against his utter magic.
His kiss was everything Tess had known it would be, the warmth of his lips, their firm, expert movement upon her own pure heaven. Ardently she returned his caress, her body molding itself eagerly against his long length. They kissed for an endless time, neither aware of the raging storm outside or the extreme oddity of their sudden, overpowering attraction to each other.
It was only when his hand cupped one small breast, his fingers tugging urgently at the hard nipple beneath the worn pink gown, that sanity returned to Tess. Stunned at how effortlessly she had gone into his arms, appalled that she had gone into his arms at all, she jerked away violently, pushing frantically against his chest. “Oh, don’t!” she exclaimed breathlessly, hardly able to believe that she was actually in his embrace and had been kissing him. “Please let me go—there is some mistake!”
Foggily, still gripped by the most powerful passion he had ever known in his life, Nicolas regarded her distressed features. A mistake? A mirthless laugh rose up inside of him. There was no mistake. The swift beating of his heart, the hungry yearning that twisted in his belly, and the hard, throbbing ache between his thighs were unmistakable. He had wanted other women before, but not like this. Never like this! Lightning had struck him when he’d kissed her—even now he felt as if he were consumed by fire. And she dared to call it a mistake?
But like Tess, as desire slowly faded, he became aware of the insanity of his actions and his hold on her loosened. Had he gone mad? She was a stranger—a mere tavern maid—and while he had tumbled his share of willing wenches in the past, he’d never been faced with quite this sort of situation. He couldn’t deny that sometimes he had awakened in strange surroundings with an unfamiliar woman lying in bed with him. But that had always been after a night of deep drinking, when to escape the horrors of war or the pain of Maryanne’s betrayal, he had deliberately gone in search of the sweet oblivion to be found in a pair of soft, welcoming arms. Lust he had no trouble identifying, nor the sudden urge to find out what her mouth and body would feel like mated to his—those emotions he understood. It was the queer feeling of possession, the odd sense of protectiveness intertwined with desire for this woman that disturbed him....
His black eyes hard and unfathomable as Tess danced nimbly away from him, he growled, “Who the hell are you? What’s your name?”
Her mouth still tingling from his kiss, her heart acting in a most peculiar manner, Tess replied breathlessly, “Dolly. They call me Dolly.”
Nicolas frowned. Now why did that sound false to him? Why did he have the feeling that she was lying? Puzzled by his reactions, he asked slowly, “And your family? Who are they? Where are they?”
His belligerent stance before the fire and his questions filled her with an inexplicable fear. Improvising quickly, she stammered out, “T-they’re not from a-a-around here—t-t-they’re in London!”
“And how is it that you come to be working in the Black Pig? Isn’t the pastoral serenity of Kent a great change from the bustle of London for you?”
“I like the country,” she answered defensively, realizing suddenly that it was true. She did like the country. Was it possible that she had told the truth without knowing it? That her family was in London and that she had left London because she preferred the quiet of the countryside? She bit her lip, wishing desperately that there was someone to whom she could turn—someone who could help banish the thick gray fog that clouded her brain. She felt so helpless and alone, so frightened and uncertain.
Some of her emotions showed on her revealing face. Moved in a way he had not thought possible, Nicolas asked softly, “What is it, my dear? What makes you look so?”
The expression of warm concern on his face was nearly Tess’s undoing, but with an effort she fought back the urge to fling herself into his arms and pour out her poor, wretched tale. There was so much that she did not understand—not the feeling of recognition she had for him, nor her sudden need to be kissed by him. She acknowledged that he had not recognized her, but her dread of a faceless nemesis would not go away. What if he were the man she had been running away from? What if he were playing some sort of cruel game with her? Pretending not to know her, to lure her farther into his trap?
She needed to get away from him, now. Smoothing her skirts nervously, she kept her eyes downcast as she said with suspicious airiness, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Lordship. I hope you’ll find everything here at the Black Pig to your satisfaction. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the kitchen to see if Mrs. Darley needs any help serving your dinner.”
Not waiting for his dismissal, she shot out the door and, avoiding the main room of the tavern, scurried down a hall that led directly to the kitchen. Her return was timely—several huge trays, all heaped with meat and sauces and soups and vegetables, were spread out on every conceivable surface. The moment she stepped into the kitchen, Mrs. Darley exclaimed in harassed tones, “Oh, thank goodness, you’re back! His Lordship’s dinner is all ready to serve. If you’ll take that tray on the table, I’ll follow with this one.”
The next several minutes were very busy, and though she was in and out of the parlor where the earl was eating, there were no private moments between them. Mr. or Mrs. Darley was always hovering about, fussing and fawning over His Lordship. Tess was grateful. She didn’t trust the earl or herself, but as long as there were people about, she didn’t fear a repeat of their earlier embrace.
As she hurried about her chores, that embrace stayed in her mind, even though she tried to erase the memory. She couldn’t understand what had come over her, and again she wondered what sort of life she had led before she had woken with no memory. Had she been a promiscuous wench? The kind of woman who was eager to fall into the nearest pair of masculine arms? Her reaction to the earl of Sherbourne only added to the many unanswered questions that swirled in her brain, and she wished fiercely that she had never laid eyes on him. She had enough to worry about without mooning over a pair of knowing black eyes and a sensuous mouth that had the power to arouse the most indelicate sensations within her!
There were many trips to be made back and forth between the earl’s parlor and the kitchen. By the time the earl had retired for the night to his room upstairs and Tess had carried the last tray out of the room where he had eaten his meal, she was bone weary and her feet ached. But her chores were not done until she had helped Jane and Willy, the two youngsters in the kitchen, finish the washing and scouring of the pots. By then the hour was late and she was longing for nothing more than her bed.
At that moment Mr. Darley appeared in the kitchen, carrying a tray of liquors. “You, Dolly, take this upstairs to His Lordship!” he said, a smirk on his lips. “After that, your time is your own....”
Tess was too exhausted to catch the innuendo in his voice. Only the knowledge that, after this one last task was done, she could seek out her bed, caught her attention. Brushing back a stray curl from her now nearly nonexistent braid, she took the tray and made her way up the stairs to the room Darley had indicated. She was so fatigued from the events of the day that not even the sound of the earl’s voice bidding her enter aroused much interest in her. Just a few minutes more and she would be in her own bed....
Like the parlor, the bedchamber given the earl was an unexpectedly pleasant place. It was small, with open beams and a gray rock fireplace that took up nearly one wall. The floor was of heavy oak planks, worn pale gold with age, and the four-poster bed was piled high with colorful quilts of scarlet and yellow. There were other furnishings, but when she entered and spied the earl sprawled carelessly on a chair as he warmed his bare feet before the fire, his cravat discarded, his fine white linen shirt half undone, Tess saw nothing else.
As she watched the light from the leaping flames caress his chiseled features, the broad brow, the proud nose, and mesmerizing mouth, her weariness vanished as if by magic, and she was aware of feeling gloriously alive. An excited flush on her cheeks, she gripped the tray tighter and with a light step walked into the room. A small table was pushed under a pair of chintz-curtained windows. Crossing the room toward the table, she said, “Mr. Darley sent this up for you, sir.”
Setting down the tray, she turned around to look in his direction. “Will that be all, Your Lordship?” Her words were meant to be respectful, but even she heard the teasing quality to her voice, and the flush on her cheeks deepened with embarrassment. How could she have said those words, in just that manner?
The earl’s heavy lids lifted, and something in that black steady gaze made Tess’s heart beat with thick, painful strokes. His eyes moved leisurely over her, from the top of her unruly red hair to her curling toes in her borrowed shoes.
