Page 56 of When She Loved Me
“It’s terrifying, the exact extent of how much power you hold over me, because I love you so.”
He realized this was not exactly a declaration, but only his darling little wife giving voice to well-founded fears, ones he only wished he could put to rest. Alas, “Nicki, I can’t undo it. I can only show you, every day, all the rest of our lives, that I will never break your heart again.”
He pressed his chin against the top of her head and breathed again.
Chapter Sixteen
Four Weeks Later
IF AT ANY TIME IN THEpast year he had thought Nicole beautiful—and there had been dozens of such occasions, he knew—every instance paled in comparison to how she looked just now. She stood at the top of the stairs, her gaze on him, while Lorelei made one final adjustment to the arrangement of her hair, standing just behind Nicole.
Every curl was swept neatly away to the back of her head, allowing her face and not her hair to be the focal point. Her shoulders were bare, the sparkling and threaded bodice of emerald green rounding softly over the swell of her bosom, the gauzy sleeves meant to drape just over the top of her arm, as if fallen off her slim shoulders. The combination of the severe but flawless hair style and the decadent fabric and color of the gown highlighted to perfection her mesmerizing green eyes and the full pinkness of her lips.
Even from the distance of the entire stairway between them, he was sure he read nervousness in her gaze. Her bright eyes did not look over his person but maintained contact with his gaze, waiting for his reaction. Trevor had all he could do not to let his jaw gape. He had to convince himself that truly, there wasn’t time to dash up those steps and whisk her back into her room, and show her exactly how exquisite, how captivating she was.
He let a slow, and so very appreciative smile crest, and noticed the instant ease within her in reaction to this. His smile grew, inspired by the sight of her, now moving toward him.
He was a hungry man, with a huge appetite for her, and despaired again that stripping that gorgeous gown off her would have to wait.
When she stood on the last step, Trevor moved closer so that she could not actually step onto the ground floor. This allowed him to stand eye to eye with her.
“I’ve a mind to take you back up those stairs, my lady,” he said, for her ears alone, as Lorelei hovered yet, a few steps above them. “I could trot out a dozen words to say how exquisite you are at this moment, but I fear they would pale, could do no justice to the truth.” He leaned closer, his mouth only inches from hers. “Ah, but with my lips, and my hands, and my body, I think I might speak more eloquently to your beauty.”
She swallowed. Her lips parted; her breath teased him. Boldly, she suggested, “Perhaps later, when all the guests have gone, I will ask you if you think I’m pretty.”
Trevor grinned, feeling blessed. “You do that, my love. I will give you my answer then,” he said, and backed away, but extended his hand to bring her down from that last step. When she stood at his side, he considered the ever-patient Lorelei, who looked quite lovely in what Trevor had to assume was one of Nicole’s altered gowns.
She, too, smiled with some nervousness.
Politely, and inclusively, Trevor bowed to her, and offered a hand to bring her to Nicki’s side. “Very well done, Miss Brisbane,” he commented. “And we have you to thank, for suggesting—nearly insisting—that the Harvest Ball be resurrected.”
“Do you think they’ll come?” Lorelei glanced at the tall clock in the corner of the foyer.
Trevor frowned, having not considered that the girl might be undone with concern over this improbable possibility. It was no hardship to assure her. “Oh, they’ll come, and from miles around.” He did not suggest to her in any way that curiosity or intrigue might be the reason that the ballroom would fill tonight. Even to the smaller ears of the local gentry and the people of Leven, he imagined that word had reached from London that the Earl of Leven had shunned his bride, had plunked her out in the country. They would need to see her, make assumptions and form opinions about her, and attempt to ferret out the why. He planned to give them no satisfaction, intended that they would leave this ball tonight shaking their heads and whispering that they hadn’t yet an answer, as the earl was seemingly besotted with his beautiful countess.
They had still many minutes before any guest should arrive and so were quite startled by a curious thumping at the door. Both Trevor and Nicole consulted the clock, which showed that no polite attendee should arrive for another fifteen minutes at the least.
As Franklin had not yet assumed his post, Trevor himself marched forward and swung the door open, considering that certain country persons might not be aware of thearriving fashionably lateprotocol of most city folk.
“Answering your own bell?” Asked Nicole’s grandmother, standing small and crooked in the doorway. “How very vulgar, Leven.”
Had Nicole sent down an invite to this woman? Trevor wondered with an immediate and impending sense of doom.
“Lady Audley,” he greeted, tipping his head, recovering as much as he could, widening the door so that Nicole might see who came.
“Grandmother!”
“He has not yet invited me in,” the old woman groused. “If he were in my employ, I would sack him.”
“Oh, grandmother! The knocking had us a bit at sixes and sevens, as the timing was unexpected.”
“What exactly is expected?” She waved her hand at Nicole’s very formal gown. “I’ve just spent three hours in a carriage. Pray do not tell me you’re going out for the evening.”
“No, we’re having a ball—the Harvest Ball,” Nicole said with some excitement, perhaps a hint of her own trepidation at her grandmother’s arrival. “But I didn’t expect you—”
“My dear, I wasn’t about to send ‘round a note to warn you of my surprise visit,” said the matron. She passed a look over both Trevor and Nicole, made a few of her own assumptions just now, and with a clever grin, announced, “You must stay and greet your guests, Nicki. Have someone show me to my room and I’ll manage—where is that maid of mine?” she turned toward the door, where hovered her similarly aged attendant, as Trevor, his hand still on the handle, had half closed the door. “You are a terrible butler, Leven. Allow the woman entrance, if you please,” she barked.
Trevor grinned an apology to the heretofore unseen lady and swung the door wide once again, only closing it when he’d checked the stoop and the yard for any further entourage.
