Ravished

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Alexandra joined the crowded party, she soon realized by the murmurs and whispers that she was attracting the attention of every Tom, Dick, and Harry. She was dismayed, for there was only one man she hoped to attract. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her when she saw Lord Hatton walking a direct path to her. He did not even try to conceal the lust he was feeling.

“Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been?”

“Rat catching,” she hissed, then deftly lifted a drink from a footman’s silver tray and placed it in his hand. “Try quenching your insatiable thirst with this, Henry.” Alexandra disappeared into the garden for her own safety, knowing she would be almost invisible in the shadows.

Presently she saw a man wearing a black-and-white harlequin costume and a mermaid with their arms entwined. Alexandra could clearly hear their conversation and realized the mermaid sounded exactly like Olivia Harding.

“I propose a moonlight dip,” the male suggested persuasively.

“But how can I go back to the party dripping wet?” The mermaid sounded disappointed.

The harlequin laughed. “Darling, you remove your costume, of course.” The pair moved toward the lake without even noticing her.

Alexandra strolled around the house and looked in at the library window. She watched the highwayman rake in his winnings and arise from the table. She could see that inside the air was filled with blue smoke and guessed that Nick would seek fresh air. She returned to the stone terrace that opened from the ballroom and stationed herself in the shadows beside a French door, watching carefully through its glass. More than anything she wanted Nick to pursue and woo her. She would not make it easy for him, for the sheer pleasure of having him bend her to his will and refuse to take no for an answer. When she saw the tall, dark figure approach, she tossed her long, black tail into his path.

Nicholas touched it with the tip of his boot, then he bent and picked it up with curiosity. When he pulled on its tail, the cat emerged with a plaintive meow. His eyes widened with appreciation at the feline contours of the female in the alluring costume. “It could prove dangerous prowling about in the dark,” he murmured.

“I have nine lives,” she purred, “while you, my insolent night rider, are on the reckless road to Tyburn.” Alexandra deliberately retreated one step.

“There is something irresistible about danger, don’t you think?” Nicholas advanced one step.

Alexandra could tell that her identity eluded him and that his curiosity was piqued by her provocative disguise.

“Do I know you, Puss?” he asked suggestively, as his avid eyes roamed over her.

“You should; I’m one of your stable cats.”

He laughed. “Then what the devil are you doing up at the house? I think I should take you back to the stable.” His voice was teasing and filled with suggestive innuendo.

Alexandra caught her breath, and her pulse raced wildly as she rubbed her cheek against her own shoulder in a seductive feline gesture. Then she bared her teeth and hissed, “Touch me and try to take me anywhere at your peril, sir!”

He tickled her chin with the end of her tail. “Black cats are symbols of witchcraft, and you certainly have me spellbound.”

“I thought all cats were gray in the dark,” she purred.

“Whoever said that knew little about felines and even less about females.” He took possession of her hand and, with his other hand at the small of her back just above her tail, urged her in the direction of the stable.

Alexandra’s knees turned to water at his touch. It was the first time he had ever done anything as intimate as hold her hand, and she felt the warmth from his body seep up her arm, making it tingle. He was so overtly masculine, so tall and powerful as he took command, she wanted to follow wherever he led. It also was the first time she had experienced the legendary charm and she was prepared to play out the game to its conclusion. For a year now she had dreamed of such a wooing, and the anticipation didn’t come close to the excitement of the reality. His undivided attention threatened to overwhelm her.

Inside the darkness of the stable very little could be seen, but that heightened Alexandra’s other senses. The rustling sounds of the animals were familiar and soothing, yet the smell of the hay and leather had the complete opposite effect, arousing slumbering emotions and titillating her excitement.

Nicholas drew her into the privacy of an empty box stall. “Do you like to be stroked, Puss?”

In the shadowed darkness she gazed up at the tall, dominant male who towered above her. He was as tempting as sin, and she knew she could not resist him. “That depends upon the hand doing the stroking,” she replied huskily from lack of breath.

He cupped her shoulders with strong, possessive hands, making sure she did not turn capricious and attempt to leave. “My strokes can be short and fast, or long and slow like this.” One hand rubbed firmly down the length of her back all the way to her rounded bottom cheek, then he repeated the sensual motion. “Which do you prefer?” he whispered.

“Long and slow,” she purred, arching her bottom into his hand. Alexandra felt quite safe from discovery. An unmarried girl would never paint her lips bright red, nor wear a costume that was so bold it tempted a male’s very manhood.

“Have we ever exchanged kisses?” he murmured intimately, still trying to discern her identity.

An uncontrollable shiver ran up her spine where his hand had stroked her. “You tell me.” She lifted her mouth in invitation, hardly daring to breathe as the long-anticipated kiss was about to become a reality.

Tentatively at first, his lips brushed hers, then his mouth took possession and he deepened the kiss. Alexandra was lost. Her arms lifted about his neck as he pressed her close. Desire snaked through her, turning her longing to craving.

Nick pulled her into his hard body, cupped her buttocks firmly, and pressed her woman’s center against his marble-hard arousal. Then he lifted her in a circular motion so that her softness moved around his erection, making sure that she could feel it pulsate as his heat seeped into her.

Her hands slipped down from his neck and splayed against his taut chest muscles, knowing she should push him away. But her thighs strained against his, as if she wanted to imprint forever the feel of his body against hers. His mouth, by turns inviting and demanding, easily persuaded hers that it wanted to be ravaged. Her arms crept back about his neck, and she pressed her body so close that their heartbeats mingled.

His sensual mouth urged her lips to soften and cling to his. The way she responded excited him, making him want more. She tasted different than any female of his acquaintance, arousing both his desire and his curiosity, tempting him to explore further. He took off his cloak, wrapped it about her, then pulled her back to his body, his hands roaming over her secret places now hidden beneath the soft black cape. One hand came to rest on the swell of her breast, the other hand tipped up her chin so he could recapture her lips. Against his persistent pressure, her lips parted to allow the tip of his tongue to slide inside the sweet warmth of her mouth. “You taste like wild honey—I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted you before, Puss.”

“Are kisses so different?” she asked in breathless wonder.

Slowly, he unbuttoned her doublet, and his possessive hand stole inside to cup the silky globe of her breast. “I sincerely hope so. Are mine not different from other men’s?”

Alex knew that she should not allow him to touch her in this intimate way, and a tiny spark of fear ignited. She willfully ignored it because his touch felt so deliciously wicked. She caught back the words I have no idea, realizing it would be a confession of her inexperience and would probably cause him to stop. She felt his fingers brush across the tip of her breast until her nipple turned diamond hard and experienced a feeling of shock that a male would do such a thing to a female.

She gasped as a shaft of desire shot from her breast, spiraled through her belly, and came to rest between her legs. She tried to focus, so she could answer his question. “Perhaps another kiss will give me the answer.” Surely she had not meant her words to be so blatantly inviting?

He laughed, deep in his throat. She too wanted more, and he was ready to satisfy all her feline desires. He plucked his cape from her shoulders and spread it upon the hay, then he drew her down beside him. Unerringly, his hand slipped back inside the doublet, and as his warm palm cupped her breast, he felt it harden with arousal. With the fingers of his other hand, he traced a tantalizing path up the inside of her thigh. “Do you like cream, my little Puss?”

Alexandra shivered. When had she lost complete control of the situation? How on earth had he managed to lure her to lie with him? She had always known that Nick Hatton was devilishly dark and dominant; now she knew that he was also dangerous. Unbelievably, it added to his attraction.

He covered her high mons with his hand and was mildly surprised at her reaction. He felt her stiffen and close her legs, trapping his hand between. He squeezed softly, knowingly, and her thighs opened slightly to his questing fingers. Through the soft material, he stroked her cleft and circled the tiny bud with his thumb, eliciting a moan that was music to his ears. He covered her mouth with his and thrust his tongue inside, imitating what he longed to do with his cock. Imitating what he fully intended to do with his cock. He found the waistband of her tights and began to draw them down.

She murmured, breathless with desire, “I had no earthly notion a man could arouse a woman to madness.”

The movement of his hands paused. Is this female telling me she is not a cat; that she is still a kitten? He gazed into her eyes through the green eye mask, and in the dimness wondered if his imagination was playing tricks on him. Then she spoke again.

“Nicholas, are you really going to make love to me?”

His heart slammed against his chest wall, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from jumping back in alarm. Goddamn it, it is Alexandra, playing the little hellcat! After seeing her and touching her this way, it was no longer possible to think of her as a child. She was a sensual female on the brink of womanhood and ripe for the plucking. Nicholas knew a moment of panic, then his common sense took over and his resolve hardened. He knew he must teach her a lesson that she would not soon forget. If he could put fear into her heart, then so much the better. Thank God she had chosen him for this seductive encounter; any other man of his acquaintance would have plucked her by now!

His voice took on a mocking tone. “You are enjoying my kisses, and my touching your body, but I know exactly what you are up to. You have allowed my twin to make love to you, and like every other female, you want to compare us!”

“No, I’ve never dreamed of making love to anyone but you, Nick!”

He cupped her breast, caressed it knowingly, and laughed nastily. “You have no way of knowing if I am Nicholas or Christopher. We share our costumes as we share our conquests. It is obvious you like playing guessing games as much as we do, Puss.”

His confession horrified her; for a moment she was convinced that she had mistaken Christopher for Nicholas.

Nick felt Alexandra stiffen and draw back from his possessive hand, and his other arm swept about her waist, holding her against his hardened body. “The smell of the hay is most inviting . . . a stable cat like you must enjoy rolling about in it quite often.”

“I have never rolled in the hay! Let me go!”

Nick, ignoring the indignation in her voice, straddled her and imprisoned her between his hard thighs. His demanding mouth, no longer gentle, covered hers, effectively smothering her protest as he pressed her down onto the fragrant dried clover. “Why don’t I remove everything except your mask and see if I can identify you by your delicious body? Your breasts feel most familiar, but I need to taste them before I can be absolutely positive.”

Alexandra gasped as she realized the man lying on top of her in the hay was about to lift her breast to his lips and suck her nipple into his wicked mouth, as if it were a cherry ripe for the plucking. She felt his hot mouth murmur suggestively against her throat, “Open your legs and let me stroke you, Pussy. I will soon fill you with the cream you crave.”

Full-blown fear now mingled with flaring anger as Alexandra extricated herself from the lecherous male who was intent upon ravishing her. “I cannot believe this is how you amuse and enjoy yourself!”

Nicholas heard a sob escape from Alexandra as she tried to flee from the stall. Oh, my honey love, I enjoyed it far, far too much. He grabbed her and pulled her back to stand before him. He could feel her body trembling and hated himself for what he had done to her. He lifted off her green mask. “Alexandra, you have no idea of the danger you were in. I almost ruined you. When I last saw you, you were dressed as a male. . . . Obviously this was a deliberate plan. Thank God it was me you chose for your experiment! Alexandra, most men wouldn’t have stopped.” With firm hands he wrapped his cloak about her. “You will go upstairs and take off this scandalous costume immediately.”

Now that she knew it really was Nicholas, and that he had only behaved in a salacious way to teach her a lesson, she sagged with relief. Her fear of him now mingled with defiance. “How can you behave like a moralistic father, when a moment ago you were ready to seduce me?”

“That’s enough sauce, you little hellcat. Go now. We mustn’t be seen together. My father has already accused me of poaching on Christopher’s territory, and I would never, ever do that.”

Because his rejection hurt her and covered her with shame, Alexandra’s temper flared higher. Why in the name of hellfire did everyone assume she belonged to Kit? She wanted to protest at length, but the lump in her throat almost choked her. She pulled the cloak more closely about her and began to run. “I hate you, Nick Hatton!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The following morning, when Christopher was summoned to his father’s chamber, he assumed the discussion would be about allowing Hart Cavendish to ride Renegade. He had decided to ride the Thoroughbred himself in the hunt today to avoid a browbeating from his father. He’d practiced his shooting all week and fully expected to bring down a stag, perhaps more than one. I’ll show the old swine, he vowed as he tapped on the door and was given permission to enter.

The two men who faced each other were dressed alike in fawn riding breeches and tan leather riding boots. Both wore “pink” hunting jackets, which in actuality were red. Christopher’s father offered him ale, which he accepted though he didn’t want any. He preferred whiskey. He had acquired a taste for hard liquor, knowing that Henry Hatton admired a man who could handle drink at any hour of the day or night.

“I spoke with Dottie Longford yesterday, and we reached an understanding about a betrothal between you and Alexandra.”

“A betrothal?” Kit asked sharply.

“Yes, I think we should announce it tonight at the hunt dinner. You may present her with your mother’s diamond and sapphire ring.”

Christopher Hatton seldom challenged his father—he usually left that job to his twin—but today he did not hesitate. “Absolutely not! It’s out of the question.”

“What the devil do you mean?” Lord Hatton roared.

“I’m too young to be leg-shackled.”

“Girls like Alexandra Sheffield are few and far between, you stupid young fool.”

“I have no objection to Alexandra, or marriage either for that matter, but goddamn it, Father, not yet. . . . Perhaps when I’m twenty-five.”

“Are you insane? She’ll be snapped up like a trout fly if she goes to London. Haven’t you noticed young Hartington sniffing around her? The Longford heiress won’t sit about twiddling her thumbs until you decide you have enough guts to take the bloody plunge.”

“What about my Grand Tour? I want to travel Europe before I’m dragged to the altar.”

“We’re fighting a bloody war in Europe, or has that slipped your mind, you imbecile?”

“Then I’ll go east . . . to Turkey perhaps. I want to study art.”

“Turkey, my arse! Only fops and weaklings are interested in art! You forget, young sir, I am the paymaster here. I control the purse strings!”

“I’ll pay my own traveling expenses. My allowance doubles now that I am twenty-one.”

“Don’t dare to defy me, Christopher! I shall cut off your allowance today unless you promise you’ll do your duty and beget a Hatton heir.”

There was a low tap on the door, then it swung open to admit Nicholas.

“What the hellfire do you want? You are forever sticking your bloody nose in where it isn’t wanted,” his father spat.

“Well, I want his opinion, if you don’t!” Kit shouted.

“Are you aware our houseguests can hear you both?” Nick asked quietly.

“He actually wants to announce my betrothal at the hunt dinner tonight! What the hell would you do, if he insisted that you marry Alexandra Sheffield?”

Nick masked the surprise he felt and quickly controlled his emotions. He saw the look of pure panic on his twin’s face at the thought of marriage. “I’d take her in a heartbeat,” Nick said quietly.

“I’m not ready for marriage!” Kit cried.

“You gutless young swine! You haven’t the balls for anything save gambling, drinking, and whoring!”

“He had a good teacher,” Nicholas defended his brother.

Kit’s gray eyes narrowed with hatred. “I’ve far more guts than you realize, Father.”

“Good! Then you’ll act like a man when I announce the betrothal at the dinner tonight.” He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “Ten o’clock; the whip will have the staghounds ready.” He lifted a hunting rifle from the gun case. “Are you coming, or are you as squeamish about hunting as you are about marriage?” he asked contemptuously.

Alexandra, along with the other guests, could hear Lord Hatton and his son having a terrible row. Though no one could make out the words exchanged, the timber and tone of the voices told everyone they were having a fierce argument. Since the Hatton twins’ voices were identical, none knew which son had invoked Henry Hatton’s fury, but all knew he frequently vented his vile temper on Nicholas. Alexandra too assumed it was Nicholas, since he was the usual recipient of his father’s wrath, and relief washed over her when the shouting abruptly ceased.

She tapped on the door of the adjoining bedchamber. When she opened it she was surprised to find Dottie wearing a silk morning gown rather than a riding habit.

“I’m not joining the hunt, Alexandra. Lord Staines isn’t up to it, and it will give Neville and I a chance to be alone.”

“Did you hear all the shouting?”

“Fiddle-faddle, darling; it doesn’t signify. In a household of men, shouting and brawling is the order of the day. The morning after men have imbibed, their tempers have hair triggers. Best to avoid them at breakfast. By the by, what are you planning to wear tonight to the hunt dinner?”

“My jade green silk, I think.”

“No, no, darling, wear that blush pink thing; it’s more maidenly. Take that rebellious look off your face, Alexandra. I’ll come along to help you dress and we can argue about it then. No point in ruining the day with an argument that can be postponed until the evening, is there?”

Alexandra laughed. “I suppose there is logic in that.” It was only when she got to the ground floor of Hatton Hall that it struck her as being odd that her grandmother planned to help her dress.

The hunters gathered in the courtyard made a colorful tapestry in their bright coats and fashionable riding habits. Today they were not after fox, but deer. The staghounds were straining on their leashes and baying loud enough to frighten off any game within a five-mile radius. The men’s mounts were equipped with saddle holsters and guns; the ladies, however, were not armed. They joined the sport today as mere spectators.

Alexandra tightened the girth on her hunter and thanked Rupert for saddling her mare. She spied the twins across the courtyard, guessing that Kit wore red, and Nick wore green. A furious blush rose to her cheeks as the intimate details of the encounter with Nicholas came flooding back to her. The humiliation of Nick’s rejection still stung her pride. Moreover, both twins seemed to be avoiding her, so she deliberately snubbed them and trotted over to join the ladies. She eyed Annabelle Harding’s full figure, pictured her without her stays, and wondered if it were true that Lord Hatton was bedding her. The corners of her mouth went up. What a wickedly amusing lampoon it would make, with Annabelle clutching the bedpost as Henry struggled with her laces, trying in vain to stuff her abundant flesh back into her corsets!

The Hatton twins held their hunters on short reins as they conversed. Nicholas had given his new pistols to his brother in an effort to cheer him up, but Kit’s dark brows were drawn together as he tried to solve his dilemma. “If I tell the old man I’ll start paying court to Alexandra, do you think it will get him off my back? I could hint that I’ll agree to some sort of understanding; anything so long as he doesn’t announce my betrothal tonight!”

“Alexandra is very young. She isn’t ready for marriage either, Kit. I think it’s a good idea to postpone things.” Why did the thought of Alexandra and Christopher seem so appalling to him when their families had had an understanding since they were children that they would marry some day? He loved his brother deeply and wanted him to be happy. The trouble was he loved Alexandra too, like a sister he assured himself, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her unhappiness. That’s the biggest bloody lie you’ve ever told yourself. You don’t love her like a sister at all! But Nicholas knew it was a lie he would have to desperately cling to and live with for the rest of his life.

A hunting horn sounded and the dogs were unleashed. “I’ll go and talk with him. Hunting usually puts him in a good mood,” Kit told his brother and determinedly spurred Renegade and took off after their father.

An hour into the hunt, Nick spotted a doe with a fawn that must have been born late in the season. He did not raise his horn to his lips to summon the other hunters but watched the pair disappear into the woods that led to a dense forest. He could hear the staghounds baying in the distance and was glad they were not close enough to pick up the doe’s scent.

Alexandra, riding with the ladies, had long since ceased to listen to their incessant chatter about what they planned to wear to the hunt dinner. Her mind wandered back to the strange conversation she had had with Dottie that morning, predicting that an argument was in the offing. She had a feeling that it was going to be about more than her choice of gown. Her brows drew together as she remembered Dottie and Henry Hatton going off for their private talk yesterday. Then, like a revelation, it dawned on her that their plans concerned a betrothal between herself and Christopher. She had nothing against Kit Hatton, of course—nothing except that she was secretly in love with his twin! Alexandra immediately drew rein and turned her hunter about. She’d be damned if she’d allow them to arrange her future for her. The Hellion would mount a rebellion!

Nicholas, who had become separated from the hunt, raised his head to pick up the sound of the horns or the baying of the staghounds. Suddenly, he heard a shot that sounded quite close and urged his horse in that direction. He drew one of his hunting pistols from the saddle holster just in case a stag bolted through the trees from the direction of the shot. He came to a clearing and recognized his brother. It took him only a moment to spot another red-jacketed figure crumpled on the ground.

Kit’s head jerked up with alarm as his brother approached. “There’s been an accident!” he cried.

Nick holstered his gun and was out of the saddle in a split second, running to the man lying on the ground. “Good God, it’s Father!” Nick saw the ugly chest wound, smelled the metallic scent of blood, and heard his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. He felt for a pulse in vain. He looked up at Kit, who was still clutching his pistol. “He’s dead!” Nicholas said with disbelief.

“It was an accident, I swear! Oh Christ, what am I to do?” Kit dismounted, took one step closer, threw down the pistol and clutched his head with his hands. “It was an accident!”

“Of course it was an accident,” Nick assured him.

“But they’ll never believe me . . . they’ll say I murdered him. . . . Everyone heard the terrible row we had this morning. . . . Dear God, Nick, help me!”

Nicholas looked down hopelessly at the body he held; his father was already going cold. “Of course I’ll help you. We’ll explain it was an accident.”

“No one will believe me! I killed him, and I had a motive. . . . They’ll arrest me!”

“They won’t arrest you if it was an accident, Kit. Try to get hold of yourself and tell me what happened.”

“A stag . . . we both saw it . . . I had a clear view. . . . He rode directly into my path as I fired.”

Nicholas eased his father’s body back down to the ground, then got up from his knees and bent to retrieve the silver-mounted Heylin pistol from the grass where Kit had thrown it.

“It’s your gun, Nick. Say you did it . . . please help me!”

Nicholas stared at his twin’s chalky pallor and saw he was trembling like an aspen leaf. He felt his brother’s plight as sharply as if it were his own. Nick wished he had been to blame; how in the name of God would Kit carry the burden of guilt? He walked over to his brother. “Pull yourself together, Christopher.” Nick didn’t put his arms about him, because one hand held the gun and the other was covered with his father’s blood.

A look of crazed panic came into Kit’s eyes as they heard the hounds approaching. “I’ll shoot myself! It’s the only way out.”

Nicholas prevented him from snatching the gun, even though it was no longer loaded.

Three hunters rode into the clearing. “What the devil has happened?”

“Keep the dogs off!” Nicholas ordered. “I accidentally shot my father.”