The Passion (Notorious 2)

Over the course of the next few days, Aurora found herself cursing Nicholas Sabine more and more readily. The man was dangerous to her peace of mind. By night, he haunted her dreams. By day, the anticipation of seeing him filled her with a taut, achy restlessness that would not leave her.

When she did encounter him, whether on her morning rides in the park or at some other venue, she always experienced a jolt, the same shivering awareness she'd felt when she'd first seen him on the quay in St. Kitts. Now, however, when she met his intense gaze, the heat in his dark eyes and the unguarded message it conveyed scorched her like hot coals.

She couldn't avoid seeing him wherever she went, possibly because Nicholas had an ally in his sister; Raven evidently was in league with him, inviting Nicholas on their various shopping expeditions. He made their meetings look accidental and innocuous, but Aurora knew his campaign was carefully planned with the precision of a military general.

She had no idea how to defend herself against such tactics. She had never before been the object of such single-minded determination. Nicholas was like a powerful storm sweeping everything in its path, destroying her equanimity in the process. No matter how she strove to remain serene and aloof, to disregard his sensual, ruthless charm, she found it impossible. He was outrageous, bold, provocative… irresistible.

But it was the deeper feelings he roused in her that were the graver threat. He had only to breathe to stir a fierce ache of uneasy emotions inside her.

She considered fleeing London for a time just to escape. Only yesterday she'd received a letter from Geoffrey's mother, Lady March, asking her to visit. Geoffrey's ten-year-old brother Harry was proving a handful, and Lady March claimed Aurora was the only one who could control him.

Yet she couldn't leave London, Aurora knew. She would not act the coward. And she had a solemn obligation to support Raven. Moreover, her father was in Sussex – the Eversley and March estates adjoined – and she had no wish to encounter the duke, even to escape Nicholas.

She thought she understood what drove his pursuit. It almost seemed as if he were wooing her, but Aurora felt certain her appeal stemmed from the challenge she presented. Winning her was a game to Nicholas. He was incited by the thrill of the chase.

She began to wonder if resistance was the right course. If she ever actually surrendered to him – if she allowed him to win – perhaps then he might give up the hunt and go home, sparing them both endless grief. She didn't want Nicholas running her life, dictating how she should behave, what she should feel. It was the height of arrogance for him to presume to know her mind better than she herself did. He had compared her to the Frenchwoman in the journal, and perhaps there were similarities, Aurora acknowledged. But she had no room in her life for wildfire passions raging out of control, nor any desire for the kind of pain such passion could engender.

Clearly she would have to devise a new plan for dealing with Nicholas. There had to be some way to turn the tables on him so that she could regain control of her life. She was never going to persuade him to leave her alone otherwise – for his sake as well as her own.

The risk he was taking worried Aurora greatly. She lived in constant fear of his exposure. Lord Clune apparently had taken up his sponsorship and was showing Nicholas about London, squiring him to gaming clubs and indulging in other rakish diversions. She felt sure he would get himself killed if he kept up his reckless imposture.

He was better known in England than he presumed, Aurora believed. But when he was nearly recognized, it was by a French emigre, of all people.

Nicholas had escorted Raven and Aurora into a milliner's shop on Oxford Street. The proprietor, upon seeing him, gave a start and clasped her hands together, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu!" under her breath. Then Nicholas removed his beaver hat, fully exposing his dark hair, and the Frenchwoman's look turned to confusion.

She seemed to recall herself and came forward to greet her clientele, but while Raven contemplated fashionable bonnets, the proprietor eyed Nicholas in puzzlement.

"Pardon, monsieur," she said finally in a heavy accent. "I did not mean to stare, but you have the appearance of a man I once knew."

Aurora felt herself tense, yet except for a polite smile, Nicholas kept his expression impassive. "Perhaps you mistake me for my cousin, madame. It happens with some frequency."

"Your cousin is Mr. Nicholas Sabine of America?"

"Yes."

The woman moved forward to clasp his hand fervently. "Oh, monsieur, your cousin is truly an angel. He saved the lives of my entire family. Not only mine, but a half dozen other families as well. Never will I forget him or the debt we owe him."

She was an older woman, with graying hair, but still quite beautiful, with the fine-boned structure and porcelain skin of an aristocrat. Nicholas gave her his most sensual smile, as if she were twenty years younger. "My cousin is a fortunate man, to be remembered so fondly by such a lovely lady."

The proprietor flushed with pleasure and released his hand, almost in embarrassment. But when sometime later they concluded their shopping, she adamantly refused to let them pay for the three bonnets Raven had chosen.

The moment they left the shop, Raven asked the question that had been burning on Aurora's lips. "What did she mean, you saved her family? You were too young to be part of their bloody revolution, were you not?"

"Yes. But I happened to be in France afterward, during one of their gruesome governmental purges."

"And you just happened to rescue a half dozen families from the guillotine?" Aurora said dryly.

He shrugged. "Actually, it was only four. And it was a firing squad. The guillotine had been abandoned by then as too ‘uncivilized.'"

Raven visibly repressed a laugh at his sarcasm, but Aurora was disturbed to learn of yet another situation where Nicholas could have been killed. She frowned at him over his sister's head.

"I suppose you mean to claim you didn't enjoy playing the hero, courting danger and risking your life?"

Nicholas shook his head. "Danger doesn't trouble me, but I didn't consciously seek the honor. I just seem to have a knack for becoming embroiled in rescues, even when I don't intend to."

"Even so, the problem now," Aurora said slowly, striving for patience, "is that your exploits have made you infamous enough you cannot hope to escape recognition."

"There are few people who know anything of my ‘exploits,' as you call them."