The Passion (Notorious 2)

Shivering, Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her face to the wind, glad for the numbing effect.

She stood at the railing for a long while, her heart aching as she remembered Nicholas. He had been so vital, so larger than life – For mercy's sake, stop thinking of him!

Somehow she had to force her memories of Nicholas out of her mind. That brief chapter in her life was closed. When she reached England, she would make a fresh start. She would begin a new life for herself, one free of emotional tumult. She would be her own woman, with no domineering father or commanding husband to control her or make her life a misery.

Faith, she should be counting her blessings rather than wallowing in sorrow for a man she hardly knew. Logically she should be grateful their marriage had lasted such a short time. She could never have been comfortable with Nicholas as a husband. His intensity, his passion, his raw virility, were too overwhelming…

Whatever bonds they had formed were physical. Bonds of the flesh, not of the heart. Their marriage had been a purely cold-blooded business contract, nothing more. And she would have to bury his memory with the same cold-blooded detachment.

With renewed determination, Aurora swallowed the ache in her throat and forcibly turned her thoughts to the journal she clutched in her hand. The lady had been captured as a slave but found passion in the arms of a magnificent stranger. What was her tale? How would her story end?

Anxious for the distraction, Aurora found a keg to sit on out of the direct force of the wind. Then, her heart taking up an unsettling rhythm, she opened the jeweled cover to the first page and began to read.

At first glimpse he seemed infinitely dangerous, even barbaric. And yet something in his eyes called to me…

PART II Dance of Passion

Chapter Seven

Against my will, he haunted my dreams.

London, June 1813

The masquerade was a grand success if the size of the crush was any indication. The ballroom overflowed with shepherdesses and princesses, armored knights and mythological gods. Even the Prince Regent had made an appearance earlier, assuring a triumph for the ball's hostess, Lady Dalrymple, who was Raven's aunt.

Behind her satin mask, Aurora kept a watchful eye from the sidelines as her ward moved through the lively steps of a country dance with a Cupid. Raven was dressed as a gypsy and fit the role to perfection, with her flowing ebony hair and bright skirts and gold bangles.

More than one gentleman obviously admired both the costume and its wearer. Standing beside Aurora, the Earl of Clune eyed the vivacious gypsy with interest.

"Your ward appears to be enjoying her success," Clune remarked. "But I'm surprised her aunt condoned her attendance at a masquerade."

"There is no harm in it," Aurora replied mildly. "Lady Dalrymple would never allow any scandalous behavior in her own home. And it would have been cruel to keep Miss Kendrick imprisoned upstairs in her bedchamber and deny her the experience of her first masquerade. Besides, she has made her come-out, and she is older than most debutantes – and decidedly more mature."

The earl turned to regard Aurora, probing her mask. "It is also surprising to think of you as her guardian. You cannot be much older than she."

"Two years. And I am more friend than guardian to Raven. I do, however, take my responsibility for her quite seriously." Aurora returned dune's gaze steadily. "If you are thinking of pursuing her, my lord, I feel I must warn you against it. I'm certain you would not suit in the least."

His rakish smile was all charm. "Indeed. Chaste young debutantes are not my style. I have a decided partiality for lovely young widows, however. If you find yourself in need of consolation, Lady Aurora, I would be delighted to oblige."

Aurora repressed a smile behind her mask. Jeremy Adair North, nicknamed "Dare" for his outrageous exploits in the bedrooms and ballrooms of Europe, was one of the premier rakes of the beau monde. It was hard to dislike him, no matter how wickedly or scandalously he behaved, for he possessed a seductive charm that was infectious. His wealth and rank also served to excuse his notoriety in the eyes of the ton. In addition to an earldom, he was reportedly soon to become the Marquess of Wolverton, for his grandfather's health was failing rapidly.

Aurora had known Lord Clune for some years. He'd never paid her the least attention until now, undoubtedly because she was considered fair game in her widowed state. The moment he had spied her across the room, he'd sought to discover the woman behind the mask, claiming that he relished a mystery. He hadn't stopped quizzing her until she revealed her name.

"Must I remind you I am in mourning, sir?" Aurora asked, deliberately adding an edge of sternness to her tone.

"And yet you are here this evening. It is hardly considered proper to attend a public function so soon after suffering a bereavement."

"My husband did not wish me to grieve for him. And until tonight I've taken care to follow proper conventions of mourning. Even now my deviation is not so egregious. I am not dancing, and I've made every effort to conceal my identity. You did not recognize me, you must admit."

Chine eyed her with amusement. Her costume, consisting of a silver domino and a headdress encrusted with crystal beads, was rather plain compared to the other guests' extravagant attire, and extremely modest, covering her head to toe, while her mask hid all of her face but her mouth and chin.

"On the contrary," Clune responded in mock offense. "I would never fail to recognize the most alluring beauty in the room."

Aurora bit back a wry reply. She had no intention of engaging in a flirtation with the most notorious rake in London. She was highly conscious of the need for circumspection, for Raven's sake, as well as her own, and knew the risk she'd taken in coming here.

"My sole reason for attending tonight," she explained patiently, "is that Miss Kendrick asked me to provide her support. She does not yet have so many friends that she feels comfortable in society."

"She is not lacking for admirers now, certainly," his lordship commented, shifting his gaze to the ballroom floor. "Witness the gaggle of besotted young bucks flocking around her." The dance had ended, and a laughing Miss Kendrick was completely surrounded by a dozen young gentlemen, all vying for her attention.