Quinn began brushing away some of the muck that clung to his evening clothes. 'If you'll excuse me, Highness, there's a faro game waiting for me. Try to stay out of trouble.'
As suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.
Noelle rushed back to Northridge Square and was soon sinking down into the steaming water of the tub, closing her eyes as the soothing warmth eased the soreness from her back and arms. Outside her window, the wind howled, giving fierce warning of an impending storm; inside, everything was quiet. Noelle had the upper floors of the house to herself. Simon had gone to Birmingham for the week, the servants were asleep far below in their rooms, and Quinn's faro game would keep him until the early hours of the morning. She had the peace she needed to sort out all that had happened to her tonight.
Working the fragrant soap into a lather, she laughed softly as she realized she was finally going to be free of her hateful marriage. Quinn's wealth would surely produce a speedy divorce and a secret one as well. He was no fool; he had quickly seen the advantage of ending the arrangement. Simon would still believe him married, but Quinn would have freed himself from any responsibility for a wife who could only cause him trouble.
Thoughtfully she washed herself, wincing when her soapy fingers touched her arms. Faint purple marks were already beginning to appear. She reminded herself that if it had not been for Quinn's intervention, she would never have escaped so lightly. Although it did not even the score between them, she knew that she owed him a debt.
A frown puckered her forehead as she slid deeper into the water, but it was already losing its comforting warmth. Sighing, she stood and stepped out of the tub. As she dried herself she resolved to repay him by being more pleasant. Now that she knew she would soon be free, she could afford to be friendlier.
Pulling on a sheer beige dressing gown, she went to the mirror and began brushing her hair. Outside, the storm broke with a fury, and a faint crash sounded from the other end of the hallway. Setting down her brush, she slipped out of her room to investigate.
The hallway was chilly after the cozy warmth of her bedroom, and she hurried along, sticking her head into the empty rooms as she passed. They were all closed tightly against the force of the storm. She hesitated when she reached Quinn's door, then turned the knob.
A blast of wind struck her as she stepped into the empty room. The window opposite the bed was open, and rain was blowing in, soaking the draperies and the floor. Sidestepping a broken vase, Noelle dashed across the room, the chilling rain slashing against her body and soaking through her dressing gown. She pulled down on the window, but it refused to budge. Positioning herself directly in front of it, she yanked with all her strength and pulled it shut just as a bolt of lightning flared in the sky.
Stepping away from the window, she looked down at herself. She was drenched. Only her hair and the back of her gown were dry. Even her feet were squishing in a puddle of water. She grabbed a towel from Quinn's dressing room and mopped up the area around the window, finally spreading the towel over the wet floor. The maids could clean up the rest in the morning. All she wanted to do now was to return to her room, put on a dry gown, and slip into bed.
A great clap of thunder rattled the window panes, and at the same moment, the door swung open, and Quinn stepped in. The dim light from the hallway lapped the room and then disappeared as he shut the door. She sucked in her breath sharply, the small sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.
'What are you doing here?' he asked.
Noelle breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that it was dark, and he could not see how thinly clad she was. 'I-I heard a crash. The -the wind knocked over that vase. Your window was left open, and the rain blew in. I-I've been trying to clean up the water.' When he did not respond, she continued her flustered explanation. 'I didn't expect you home so early. It's barely midnight. I imagined your card game would keep you until much later.'
'How did you know I was playing cards?'
Noelle laughed nervously. 'Isn't that how you gentlemen always end your evenings?'
'Not always.'
Slowly he advanced into the room. A flash of lightning from the window behind her momentarily illuminated his handsome face, and Noelle found something unexpected stir deep within her. The mocking smile she had come to expect was not there; his expression was less guarded, the harsh planes softened.
'Excuse me. I must get back to my room.' As she turned to slide past him her gown brushed against his hand.
'You're wet.'
'The rain-I got soaked when I was closing the window.'
'Here, let me get you a towel. You're shivering.'
'No!' she exclaimed. And then more evenly, 'I'll be all right. Really.'
Ignoring her, he pulled a small towel off the washstand and handed it to her. Noelle dabbed at herself and then, unexpectedly, Quinn lit the lamp. The room was flooded with light.
She stood before him, the towel, barely larger than a man's handkerchief, clutched uselessly in her hand. The thin material of her gown was molded to her, revealing far more than it concealed. Wet gauze outlined her full breasts and clung to her lean flanks where the sweet, dark triangle was clearly visible to his exploring gaze.
'Christ, you're beautiful,' he said huskily, and it was as if there were a current radiating from him. Every part of her body that was touched by his slumberous gaze came alive with curious warmth.
He took a step toward her, his eyes burning, and slipped his hand behind her neck. With his fingers, he plowed gentle furrows in her hair as he tipped her head up. His breath was hot and sweet, and then his lips possessed her. They were hard and seeking, igniting a flame within her. She felt her own lips part as his mouth became more demanding.
His other hand caressed the small of her back, the fingers strong and healing as they lingered there for a moment and then traveled downward, finally cupping the pliant curve below. She moaned and turned her head from the relentless threat of his kiss, from the heat of his caress, but his lips patiently brushed the valley beneath her ear and then traveled down her neck, igniting tiny fires everywhere they touched.
My God! What is happening to me? Planting her small fists on his chest, she summoned strength born of panic and pushed herself away from him. He released her, and she ran from the room as if all the demons in hell were at her heels.
The next morning, her face was tired and drawn as she stepped into Constance's carriage, a gold barouche with soft jade-green upholstery. The calash top had been put down to take advantage of the day, which had been washed fine by the storm.
'Really, Noelle, you must get more sleep. There are shadows under your eyes.'
'I was reading and lost track of the time,' Noelle lied, taking a seat facing Constance.
'I fear you are becoming a bluestocking,' Constance chastised as the carriage pulled away from the house. 'Did I tell you that I have invited Angela Welby and her daughter, Catherine, to accompany us today?'
'Oh, Constance, you didn't! Catherine Welby is the most awful featherbrain.'
'Yes, isn't she. But her mother is a charming woman whom I see all too seldom.'
Half an hour later when the carriage entered Hyde Park, Noelle was forced to agree with Constance's assessment of Angela Welby. She was a woman of intelligence and humor who could not quite hide her distaste for the frivolities of her daughter.
Catherine had no sooner arranged her skirts around her than she began questioning Noelle about Quinn. Which particular parties would he be attending during the next week? Was it true about the duel? Had the Baroness von Furst actually threatened suicide if he left her again? Noelle turned aside each question firmly, and Catherine soon lapsed into sullen silence, leaving Noelle free to join in the more stimulating conversation of Constance and Angela Welby.
Patches of sunlight flickered pleasantly over the women as the carriage clipped around the perimeter of the park, passing under the October trees, which were awash with leaves of rust and gold. They nodded to acquaintances, chatted comfortably. Noelle felt some of the awful tension within her ease.
'Dorian! Isn't that your cousin riding toward us?'
The excitement in Catherine's shrill voice pierced the peace of the moment, and Noelle's heart made a
