* * *
Helen woke to the sun streaming in through the attic window, Delphine’s nightgown bunched to her waist, her legs spread akimbo on top of the bedsheets. Beads of sweat coated her brow. Damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck. It was so hot she could barely breathe.
Desperate to open the tiny window and feel a rush of cool air, she swung her legs out of bed and padded quietly across the room.
Nicholas was sprawled face-down on the pale blue coverlet, his make-shift bed on the floor, for he had not trusted himself to sleep beside her last night.
“When we’re together, our passions overwhelm us,” he had whispered against her hair. “I cannot sleep with you, nor can I leave you to sleep in this room alone.”
She understood the dangers.
A goodnight kiss would end with him claiming her body and pushing past her virginity. After their passionate encounter earlier, she would have encouraged him to do both.
And so he had stripped to nothing but his trousers, a barrier to protect her virtue, although the sight of his toned chest made her want him even more. Then, like a vagabond, he had settled down to sleep on the floor.
The memory made her smile.
She stopped and stared at his impressive physique, remembering all the ways he had touched her last night. His hot mouth devouring her most intimate place. The delicious pulsing in her core. Her earth-shattering release.
Passion ebbed and flowed like waves in the sea. She felt a rush of euphoria whenever he devoured her mouth and sucked her sex—a raging surge of emotion so powerful it stole the air from her lungs. And then she would look at him sleeping peacefully, lust receding to leave nothing but the calm, ever-present depth of her love.
A sudden knock on the door jolted her from her musings.
Nicholas practically jumped to a standing position. His hair was mussed, his eyes half closed, his manhood a solid length in his trousers.
She tried to look away, but it was such a delightful distraction.
He muttered an obscenity before shouting, “Who is it?”
“I’ve left a morning tray,” came Sigmund’s deep-timbered voice. “Aaron said you’re to come downstairs in half an hour. I’ll have a maid bring a fresh pitcher of water.”
Helen moved towards the door, but Nicholas snapped, “You’ll not let Sigmund in while you’re in a state of dishabille.”
He meant while wearing the lace-trimmed nightgown that left little to the imagination. “I was going to hide behind the door.” She gestured to the iron rod that looked like a concealed weapon in his trousers. “I suppose there’s nothing obscene about that.” How on earth was making love so pleasurable when it was obvious they wouldn’t fit?
“Leave the tray outside the door,” he barked. “Tell Aaron we’ll be downstairs in forty minutes.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant to do in the extra ten minutes. But it was clear she had succumbed to the sickness Lillian had mentioned. A sort of obsession where one heard lewd suggestions in the most mundane conversations.
Sigmund acknowledged the request with a grunt.
Nicholas rubbed his eyes and then studied her in the morning light. He seemed to drink her in all at once. “Seeing you like this, a man might think he had stroked the lucky horseshoe. Or Delphine is a mystic who can predict the future and so left her best nightgown.”
She did not attempt to cover her modesty. He’d wanted her last night, and she meant to ensure he wanted her today. “But you don’t believe in mystics. You said it’s all hogwash.”
“Let me be clear.” He adjusted his trousers to disguise the bulge that wasn’t shrinking. “You’re not marrying a farmer. I know that with absolute certainty because if you’re to wed anyone, you’ll wed me. And since I don’t need to toil the land to earn a living, one must assume your seer is a fraud.”
If you’re to wed anyone, you’ll wed me?
It was hardly the declaration she’d dreamed of.
“No one knows what tomorrow will bring.” She did not want him to marry her out of obligation. “You may be transported, and I might be shamed into marrying the only man who will have me.”
Nicholas growled his objection. “Like hell you will! I have no intention of getting caught.”
“Then we should stop discussing the future and focus on the task at hand. I have a list of suspects and possible motives.” She moved to where her coat was draped over the corner chair. She took the note from the inside pocket and handed it to Nicholas. “As you can see, we have more than one line of enquiry.”
He fell silent while absorbing the information on the page.