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His expression remained serious as he offered his arm. “The mirror awaits your beauty.”
Swallowing down the retort that came to mind, she linked her arm with his. It remained unnatural to accept the compliments and attention, but she neither wanted to reveal the depths of her own vulnerability, nor dishonor his intentions.
A footman stood in the hallway but left after Nicholas’s hand signal. He guided her to the mirror above the table where theHydramodel had been replaced by a small marble bust. Festive garland was draped along the top of the gilt mirror frame, and a crown of fresh pine sat atop the head of the statue on the table.
Nicholas moved directly behind her, his head over her shoulder. Avoiding her own image in the looking glass, she stared down at the statuette of the bearded man, flanked by two lit candles.
“Aristotle approves of the necklace.”
She laughed gently at Nicholas’s assertion, spoken near her ear. “Is that one of your four reasons?”
He made a negative sound in his throat, and his arms snaked around her waist. Unable to resist him, she sank back against him and placed her hands over his. He held her, and eventually, she gathered the courage to gaze at their reflection.
Her heart thumping, she took in the perfection of their embrace. At first, all she saw was the rightness of his strong arms banded around her, the trust and appreciation in how her hands held his. Before her were two people intimately and powerfully connected.
Next, her eyes met his, and her pulse thrummed harder in her throat. This man was gazing upon her with reverence and desire combined, as if he saw straight into her soul and…loved her.
Her eyes shut, and she squeezed his hands. She blinked a few times, the image of a striking couple appearing and reappearing, she in her gown and jewels, and he in his black-and-white evening wear.
Madame Robillard’s sumptuous apricot gown shimmered in the candlelight, and the pearls, diamonds, and emerald completed the look, turning her into a lady. Standing in their private world of two, where she could momentarily admit the profundity of her love and lust for Nicholas, she watched her breasts rise and fall under the iridescent satin.
His breath warmed the shell of her ear and her scalp. She looked at her crown of olive leaves and her scarlet tresses, rolled and pinned. Allowing herself to float into fantasy, she knew herself as Nicholas’s bride. Fright lurked somewhere in the distance, but she held it at bay. This daydream was too beguiling to ignore, this moment too magical to deny.
Finally, Helen looked into her own face. Her mouth parted. That woman felt adored; she adored in return. Her contentedness gleamed as softly but as unmistakably as the precious jewels on her chest.
Just for now.She accepted that whatever happened when they walked away from the mirror, here and now she would be the woman in the mirror. One whose heart was open to love. An imperfect, but beautiful woman.
“I’m ready,” she breathed. “Tell me your four reasons.”
He pressed a soft kiss to the sensitive place behind her ear, then his golden gaze met hers in the reflection. He spoke quietly.
“First—youwantthe necklace. Yes, we both know we don’t always obtain what we want. But this is within your reach. It’s literally being given to you. You desire it. You deserve it.”
But admitting I want it…that makes it even more painful if it’s ever taken away!
She struggled to keep her eyes on his, but she would not run away. Breathing harder, she leaned back against him a little more. “Next?”
“Accepting the necklace will please me. It will please my family. You care for us. Delight us by enjoying the gift.”
She cared about them—that she wouldn’t deny. But was this a present given without strings, meant only for her to enjoy?
Yes, said the woman in the mirror.
Clearing her throat, she nodded, prompting him to continue.
“Third—you’re a practical woman. You know this necklace has value. Should you ever need funds, it’s a resource for you.”
Her brow furrowed, even as she acknowledged all the shrewdness behind his words. The high cost of the necklace was one of the very reasons she couldn’t accept it!
“And fourth?” she asked when she was ready.
Before her eyes, his face turned wanton and his eyes dropped to the necklace…and below. His hands slid up the satin and closed over her breasts. A shiver ran through her, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open and watch as he kissed a line down her neck.
She lost the battle, her eyelids fluttering closed when his fingers found her nipples, no match for the thin fabric or the gossamer chemise underneath that the modiste had made especially for this gown. He tugged at her through the bodice, and she stifled a moan.
In a rush, he moved closer, his mouth closing over the base of her neck at her shoulder, just as his rigid arousal pressed through her skirts against the soft mound of her rear.
“Fourth,” he whispered, still cupping her. “Tonight, I want you wearing nothing but this necklace while I worship your breasts.”
