Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Finally, he closed his eyes and exhaled, surely every drop of air from his lungs. When he opened them again, it was as if a curtain had been drawn shut. “Fine, fine—I’ll give you a reprieve. I know deep down you’re just afraid you’ll never measure up to my outstanding kisses.” His voice was hoarse, but the smile was firmly in place. “Now off with you, before someone discovers us and ruins all our fun.”


He was right. Already, the sun was well above the horizon, the sky transitioning from reds to pinks. Nodding, she bent to retrieve her foil, trying to convince herself that it was relief, not regret, that wilted her shoulders. Whatever madness had seized her, it was gone now.

Or so she told herself.

Turning on her heel, she hurried toward the dirt path that led to the house, wanting to put distance between them, to cut the odd connection that even now tempted her to turn back.

With her future at stake, she simply couldn’t afford to be diverted by the man who had long been her opponent, but who now seemed like so much more.





Chapter Six





GOD IN HEAVEN, what had just happened?

Nick slumped down the wall, dropping to his backside and letting his head fall back against the cool stones of the old tumbledown wall. His blood still roared in his ears—as well as in other places—and he raked his hands through his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp.

What the hell was wrong with him? If she had any clue how he truly felt about her, she’d never allow them to be alone together again. Perhaps not even in the same bloody room. He gave a humorless laugh. How could he have let his control slip so thoroughly?

Because of her.

For the first time in fifteen years, she had been about to kiss him. Of her own prerogative. When she’d declared her intention, he’d been so surprised, he couldn’t stop his reaction. How could he? It was something he’d dreamed about for so long, he couldn’t bloody well remember a time he hadn’t wanted it.

But this wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about the desire coursing through his body, or the secret longing he had hid so effectively for years. This was about Eleanor having what she wanted in life; or more to the point, what she didn’t want: a husband.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. He’d do whatever it took to protect her from getting hurt. Yes, he wanted to instill self-confidence in her once more, but after that near kiss, he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He’d be damned if he’d let another man claim her against her will.

If Malcolm thought he could strong arm her into doing his bidding, he had another thing coming. The trick was Nick had to come up with a way to keep her from being married off, without giving Malcolm the chance to blame her.

Drawing in a deep breath, he came to his feet and straightened his shoulders. It was time to go to battle.





IF UNCLE ROBERT SENT ONE MORE SELF-SATISFIED LOOK in her and Lord Henry’s direction, Eleanor was going to scream, right there in the middle of Miss Landon’s song. And wouldn’t that put a damper on his plans. She allowed a small smile at the thought.

The earl leaned closer from his seat to the right of her and murmured uncomfortably close to her ear, “I’m so pleased to see you enjoying yourself, Miss Abbington. My late wife, bless her, never was one for these sorts of amusements.” He fluttered a hand in the vicinity of his forehead. “Megrims.”

Possibly. Eleanor was more inclined to believe the dearly departed countess was simply more skilled at escaping his company than she. She nodded politely and leaned away as inconspicuously as she could manage.

It wasn’t that he was unkind, but he possessed the conversation skills of a parrot. Not to mention he seemed to think her eyes were located somewhere in the region of her breasts, or the fact that he was exceptionally fond of onions, the evidence of which emanated from him like a fog.

She really didn’t dislike him, but the idea of marriage to him made her physically ill. And blast it all, Nicolas was right. She didn’t have to bow to Uncle Robert’s demands, nor did her sister have to suffer the consequences. There had to be a way to get around them, and she wouldn’t rest until she figured out what that was. Perhaps she should have shared with Nick exactly what she was dealing with. He’d surprised her a lot since returning home; maybe he’d be able to surprise her again by coming up with a solution.

For perhaps the tenth time since the recital began, Eleanor cut her gaze toward the side wall, where he stood alone, watching the performance. She still had no idea what to make of what had happened between them this morning. Or more accurately, what hadn’t happened. All she knew for certain was that every time she thought of him, her cheeks heated and a shower of sparks seemed to cascade through her middle.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Nick shifted his gaze, catching her with God knew what expression on her face. She jerked her attention back to the front of the room, her heart beating like mad. Good heavens, she had to get hold of herself. She was acting like a proper fool there in the drawing room for anyone to see.