Page 19 of When She Loved Me
He’d spent the better part of dinner wondering how awful it was going to be, not marrying Sabrina, not benefitting from her very large inheritance. True, he’d wavered then, thinking not only of himself but of the thousands of people under the umbrella of the Leven title who would be affected by possibly years and years of his trying to claw his way out of debt.
And then he’d crossed paths with Baron Kent, who’d clasped his shoulder in such a fashion as to suggest he’d had one too many clarets and had proudly declared himself “the man of the season!” for having betrothed two daughters only weeks apart, and to such “solid citizens as yourself and Cheseldon”. The ache he’d felt in his chest just then, the tightness that had gripped him at the news thathisNicki was planning to marry someone else answered once and for all, in his mind, who would be wedding whom.
Now, she crossed her hands over her chest, squeezing her upper arms. Her voice was low, melancholy, when she said, “I think it truly a shame that what was once a good relationship between us has been destroyed by this... this—I used to so look forward to seeing you. I was so envious of Sabrina, thinking her so unappreciative of you.” She turned away from him, as if to hide her tears.
Trevor quietly stepped closer. In a low, gentler tone, he asked, “And you don’t look forward to seeing me now?”
When Nicole only shook her head, he said, very close behind her, “I crave only the sight of you sometimes. I just want to see you smile again at me. I want to bring you back to the picture gallery and listen to you tell me, so passionately, the story of Rembrandt’s life.” He stepped closer again, his mouth at her ear. “I want to watch you string together atrocious needlepoint with your brow wrinkled so adorably. I want to touch you and kiss you and I think you want the same. I have been going out of my mind these past weeks, waiting, wondering if you thought of me at all.”
And she cried unabashedly now, her shoulders slumping while her hands lifted to cover her eyes. And it broke him. He placed his hands on her slender arms, rubbing them up and down then turned her around and gathered her in his arms. “Shh,” he soothed, his lips at her hair.
When she was capable of speaking again, she only said, “Please don’t marry Sabrina.”
He kissed her to quiet her. They would talk but just now, he needed to touch her and taste her. He pressed his mouth to her forehead. He touched his lips to her eyelids, taking tears away with him. He lowered his head then, and at the same time, tilted her chin up with a finger beneath it. Their lips met and any calm she may have sought was surely shattered with the hunger of this kiss. His mouth was hard and searching, forcing her to open for him, sliding his tongue inside, circling it around hers. He felt just an initial resistance, but it was short-lived and soon she gaveherself up freely to him, her response eager. This is where she belonged, he knew,
He drew back, taking his lips from hers, but did not relinquish his hold completely, only set his hot lips upon the skin at her neck, and along her bare collarbone, pushing aside silk as he progressed.
“My God, Trevor, what are you doing to me?” She asked, her voice husky, velvety.
“I am loving you, Nicki,” he answered at her breast, nearly melting at the sound of his name fallen from her lips. He pulled the silk gown and cotton chemise completely away, baring her dusky and hardened nipple to him. He flicked his tongue over it and Nicole jumped, the unexpected pleasure of it shocking her. But she pressed herself right back against him and he did it again, and then took the entire nipple into his mouth, drawing gently on it. Soon the other breast was freed and was lavished with the same attention, while her hands crept up into his short, thick hair, holding him to her.
Then Trevor stood straight again, his eyes holding hers, communicating without words his desire of her. While they stared at each other, breaths hurried and mingling, he took one of her hands and placed it over his erection. Her lips parted at this touch, at the hardness of him. Curiously, she rubbed her hand over him, up and down to read the complete size of him. He felt as if he grew tenfold more, as she stared at him as if they were the only two people in the world, and at that moment, her soft and experimental touch was everything to him. He growled low then and drew her once again to him, crushing her to his chest. At her next breath, he was skimming one hand low, along her waist and hip and over her bottom, pulling her up hard against him. As hiskisses moved lower, so then did his hands. His lips settled on a spot just above her bosom, while his hand began to scoop up the fabric of her skirt, his fingers and palm caressing the outside of her thigh, up from her knee. And then his fingers were moving between her legs and he was sure he felt her knees buckle.
Nicole cried and jerked away from Trevor though she remained within his arms. Trevor stilled, obviously sensing that the tone and sharpness of her gasp suddenly had nothing to do with passion. He didn’t move immediately allowed her time to bring her person to rights. Frantically, Nicole pulled at her bodice and tugged down her skirts, but she did not meet Trevor’s eyes.
Finally, Trevor turned to face the door, where stood his betrothed and Baron Kent and Lady Cavendish, wearing varying expressions of shock.
Trevor said not a word. What did one say at a moment like this? He felt Nicki trying to peer around his shoulder, saw that her father’s face was reddened with enormous rage, and her sister’s visage held something of a sly grin. Lady Cavendish, although her eyebrows were lifted with a certain level of surprise, seemed unaccountably unaffected.
“Sabrina, take your sister immediately to the carriage,” Baron Kent ordered when he finally found his voice. The sound of it was possibly unlike anything Nicole had ever heard, if her tiny and frightened squeak was any indication.
Lady Cavendish stepped fully inside the room but stayed near to the walls as to be unobtrusive. Sabrina entered, beckoning with an outstretched arm for Nicole to come.
Nicole spared a quick glance at Trevor as she moved around him. He looked at her not at all but exchanged steely glares withthe baron, though he was peripherally aware that Nicki let Sabrina wrap her arm around her.
And then the most incredible and damning part of the entire evening took place as Trevor very clearly heard Sabrina say to Nicki, her voice pierced with derision, “Little sister, when I asked you to assist me, I’d never have thought you’d go to these lengths to see me freed from my betrothal.”
Chapter Seven
THE EARL OF LEVEN MARRIEDBaron Kent’s daughter on the Saturday following “The Incident” at Lady Cavendish’ home. Being that the only witnesses to the trauma were interested parties or family, it was then not difficult to keep under wraps the exact and detailed reasoning behind the sudden switch in the earl’s choice of bride. But it also caused not any person a great stretch of imagination to perceive why the younger sister was the intended bride, and not Sabrina—there were only so many reasonable explanations available, after all, for such an extraordinary last-minute swap.
So it was that Nicole Kent walked down the aisle of the Leven chapel at the Wentworth country estate, and took her place beside her groom, barely contained joy simmering within. She smiled at Trevor, shyly, but with great hope. She’d been allowed to see him not at all since their discovery in Lady Cavendish’s salon. She’d been forced, however, to listen to a two hour lecture—at times not much more than a shouted diatribe—on proper decorum, and questions posed by the baron, such as ‘where did I go wrong?’
She’d been genuinely sorry for the pain she had knowingly caused Gregoire and had personally visited with him to tell him that she could not, after all, marry him. He had many questions, most of which Nicole had side-stepped with great embarrassment. At the end of their meeting, she was sorry that she had lost her friend, but had thought the marquess had been a proper gentleman in receipt of such sorrowful news.
It had all been worth it, she thought, standing now beside Trevor while the priest read passionately from the good book, preparing them to take their vows. True, it was likely not how she might have liked to obtain the hand of Trevor, but they could be together now, and lose all this nasty business that had been between them since the first moment he had kissed her. When she was not his, that had led to nothing but pain and trouble, but all that was over now, she thought wistfully. He hadn’t looked at her, seemingly caught up in the cleric’s heartfelt reading and message. If her hands weren’t so nervous, gripping tightly her bouquet—or rather Sabrina’s bouquet—she would have reached for his. His hands were folded together sedately at his waist, his head inclined ever so slightly.
That they hadn’t spoken had bothered her somewhat. She’d have liked to express to him that she would make him happy, that she would love him endlessly, that he would never be sorry he’d been forced to marry her. But she mulled over this lack only briefly, sure as she was that Trevor must know all this already. She’d made it rather obvious—as he had—where her desires lay. Nicole wished suddenly for the priest to speed this ceremony along. She’d brooded all these weeks over Trevor, and had been without him for so long, and had been forced to see him not at all in the last three days, and she wanted only to get on with their life together, to get on with loving Trevor.
Yet all these pretty thoughts of a happy future flew out of her head the minute the priest declared them husband and wife, and gave Trevor leave to kiss his bride. Nicole turned to face him, her love bright and shining, an expectant flush to her features as she awaited his kiss. She blanched immediately as he pivoted and faced her. In his eyes, where once there had shone passionand a want of her, there was now only a cold and tortured anger. Nicole stiffened in front of him—indeed, she recoiled within at the sight of his distaste—and then barely felt it as his lips pressed so briefly against hers. She squeezed her bouquet between them, her hands suddenly sweaty. It was hard then to remain coherent while he’d shown no more affection than he might have had Sabrina been standing here. Confused, Nicole obediently turned, as he did, to face the small and cheering crowd in the chapel. She thought she might have smiled, or thought she might have tried, anyway, but could manage nothing, it seemed, but to recall the storminess in his eyes.
He was livid, she determined quickly, but could put no cause to it. He’d claimed he’d wanted her. He’d intimated that if there were any way for him to marry her, he would. He had nearly made love to her. He’d said—hisexactwords had been— “I am loving you, Nicki.” My God! She thought. What had changed in three days?
“Let us lead the people abovestairs for the feast on such a blissful occasion,” he said coolly, mockingly. And now he grabbed her hand but there was no warmth or fondness there.
The bride cried, but any onlookers thought this merely tears of joy. Leaving the chapel, Nicole caught sight of Sabrina, and nearly blanched at her sister’s expression of haughty rebuke. Swallowing the despair in her throat, Nicole squared her shoulders and marched on alongside her new husband.
This was then, without doubt, the longest day in Nicole Kent’s—Wentworth, she corrected piteously—young life. She sat stoically through the wedding breakfast, being completely ignored by her groom, who chose to speak to absolutely anyone else save his wife. She wanted to beg him to tell her what or howthings had changed but knew this was not the venue to do so. She accepted the well-wishes of almost one hundred people and wanted to scream at them that she saw nothing to be happy or hopeful about. Her father was still quite annoyed—even worse, she imagined, he was disappointed in her—and he, too, seemed to be of a mind to have no relations with her today.
