“See who, Bess?”

Never had she experienced joy and dread simultaneously. Nick sauntered forward, looking splendid in a black jacket and silvery gray waistcoat. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. He was magnificent. More so than she remembered. Her face flushed. Dread reasserted itself. She was sure to receive a tongue-lashing as only he knew how to deliver for venturing out unescorted.

Hovering there, waiting for him to notice her, she realized how foolhardy her actions. Good Lord, look what nearly happened to her. Her breath trapped in her chest as she braced herself for the moment he recognized her.

“Skelly has taken to accosting our guests,” Bess informed Nick.

“That’s Mr. Fairbanks to you.” Skelly patted his bloodied nose, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. “And I didn’t accost anyone. That bitch hit me.”

Once Upon a Wedding Night

Nick finally looked at her. The concern and sympathy ready for one of his patrons immediately vanished from his face.

“What in hell are you doing here?” he growled, taking a threatening step toward her.

“You know her?” Bess asked sharply, the arms crossed over her chest falling to her sides.

Nick ignored her question, either unaware of it or indifferent. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

Meredith darted a wary glance to Bess’s and Skelly’s rapt faces. Skelly held his handkerchief midair, suddenly forgetting his bloody nose. Bess scowled darkly.

“I needed to speak with you.” She hated the telling tremor in her voice.

“You couldn’t have sent a message?” He grabbed hold of her shoulder and gave it a shake. “This is no place for you. What were you thinking?”

“Why is this no place for her?” Bess demanded, stepping forward to stand side by side with Nick.

Meredith held her hands up in supplication. “I needed to speak with you privately. This seemed the best way. I realize now that I should have sent word that I was coming.” She glanced uneasily between Bess and Nick. Both glared at her with equal expressions of hostility, and Meredith was unsure which one posed the greatest threat to her at the moment.

“You should not have come at all.” As if suddenly remembering what had happened to her, he abruptly released her shoulder and wheeled around, grabbing Skelly by the throat. “You touched her?”

“She was alone!” Skelly scratched at Nick’s fingers with an animal-like frenzy, wheezing, “I didn’t know she was yours. I didn’t hurt her. She mashed my nose—I’m the one bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“And I can imagine just what you did to warrant that.” Nick’s knuckles were white around Skelly’s throat, and Meredith placed a restraining hand on his bicep. The muscle hummed with tension beneath her fingers.

“Nick.” She spoke his name softly, trying to reach past his anger. He looked down at her hand on his arm as Skelly continued thrashing against his hold. Her voice beseeched him. “Let him go.

He’s not worth it.”

“Nick,” Bess interrupted, her angry gaze scouring Meredith. “People are watching.” Her eyes swept Meredith and Skelly in mutual contempt. Indeed, several people were beginning to gather around them, inching up the steps to the dais. Meredith dropped her hand and tried to disappear even farther into the confines of her cloak.

Nick hesitated for the briefest moment, a tumult of emotions flickering over his face—his desire to continue choking the life out Skelly the most apparent. At last he shoved the man away. “I warned you to stay out of here. There won’t be a next time.”

Skelly nodded, rubbing the angry red flesh of his throat. “I hear you.” He spared one last venomous glare for Meredith before stalking out the front doors.

Nick looked back at her, fists closing and opening at his sides, his expression as dark and forbidding as when he had looked at Skelly. Did he want to choke her too? If possible, she shrank even farther into her cloak. He tore his eyes from her to take in the curious faces around them, realizing, just as she did, that they hovered on the brink of scandal. His jaw tensed in grim acknowledgment of the crowd drawing ever closer.

Bess stepped in front of Meredith. “It’s time you leave. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

Meredith tried to peer around the woman to catch a glimpse of Nick. She waited the span of a few breaths, enough time for him to stop her if he were inclined. With a curt nod of acceptance, she veered for the door.

Meredith managed only two steps before Nick grabbed hold of her wrist and walked her straight out the door with swift, purposeful strides.

“Nick!” Bess cried behind them. “Nick!”

A ridiculous rush of triumph surged through Meredith. For whatever reason, he had not let her walk out the door alone. She tried to look over her shoulder to see if Bess’s expression matched the fury in her voice, but Nick moved too quickly.

His voice reached her ears in a fast and furious growl. “I’ll see you home, but I suggest you shut your mouth on the ride there or I might do some-thing we’ll both regret. I used up all my charity letting that bastard go. I don’t have much left over for you.”

She nodded dumbly. Nick pulled her along, her smaller strides three for every one of his. He hailed a hack. Barking the address, he yanked the door open with such violence she cringed. She tried to get in without his assistance, but he had no patience for that. With an angry snarl, he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her up before him. She scurried to the far corner of her seat, away from him and his frightening anger.

He settled his long frame on the opposite seat as the hack began its crawl to Berkeley Square.

For several minutes he ignored her, staring out the small slit in the curtains as if he saw something of interest in the impenetrable fog.

At last he broke the silence to ask, “Were you recognized?” He continued to look out the window as though he could not tolerate the sight of her.

Clutching her cloak with damp palms, she wet her lips and replied, “No. At least I don’t believe so.”

“Well, we will know by tomorrow if your stupidity has brought ruin on your head.”

His words were a stinging slap, and her defenses stirred. She had never been one to take insults kindly, and he continually cast more than his share upon her person.

“I’m not stupid—”

The blistering stare he turned on her silenced the rest of her argument. “No? How would you describe your actions? Endangering your reputation and placing yourself in the path of Skelly Fairbanks is certainly not the mark of an intelligent woman. I suppose I can now add foolish to the list along with greedy and scheming.”

Her hands tangled in the folds of her cloak and she beat them in her lap. “Am I forever the villain to you?” Foolish tears burned at the backs of her eyes. Had she ever truly thought him kind?

Where was the man that had held her so tenderly the night of Sally Finney’s death? “I don’t know why I even bothered coming.”

“Indeed, why? You said it was important.” He frowned.

It was her turn to look out the window. She crossed her arms, determined not to utter another word. She’d be damned before she confessed her reason for venturing out tonight was to lay the issue of her virginity at his feet. To beg him to reconsider forcing her to marry, thereby forcing her to enter into yet another pretense. At the moment, marriage did not seem so distasteful if it removed her from his maddening control. She would not lower herself by asking him for anything.

“What was so important to risk putting yourself in Fairbanks’s clutches? Do you even know what type of man he is?”

She snorted indelicately. Skelly Fairbanks had revealed exactly what kind of man he was in their brief encounter. She continued to gaze out the window, tired of crossing words with Nick, tired of hearing herself sink lower in his estimation, tired of being ten kinds of fool around him. To think she had actually missed him.

She heard him move across the coach to sit beside her, and tensed. Hard fingers grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. “He’s a pimp. And if you caught his eye, you can bet he had an unpleasant future in mind for you.”

She had surmised as much, but to hear him say the words so coldly, so matter of factly… a small shudder ran through her.

Forcing a bravado she did not feel, she jerked her chin away from his burning fingers. “I took care of myself, didn’t I? At any rate, how was I to know people like him frequent your establishment? What kind of place do you run where it’s unsafe to walk through the door?”

Meredith’s dig hit her mark. She could tell by the way he started, as though someone had splashed cold water in his face.

Shaking her head, she tried to apologize. “Forgive me—”

“What did you expect of anything connected to me?” he bit out. “I’m no gentleman. No better than Fairbanks.”

She shut her eyes against the harsh words, words she refused to believe… words she knew to be untrue.

He continued, his voice taking on the distant quality of a stranger. “Regardless if you bloodied his nose, you should never have placed yourself in such a situation. Did it occur to you how he might have retaliated had I not come along?”

She spread her arms wide in defeat. “I’ve said I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrowed to where her cloak parted. “What are you wearing?” Before she could stop him he leaned across the seat and flipped her cloak off her shoulders. His eyes widened at the plunging, heart-shaped bodice. “Another of Lady Derring’s innovations?”

“It’s just a gown.” She tried to be nonchalant but felt her face redden with the secret knowledge that she had chosen this gown with him in mind. Hot with embarrassment, she grappled to pull her cloak back over her shoulders. With brutal force he whipped it completely free.

“Come, let’s see it. You obviously wore it to be noticed. Isn’t that what women do? Dress to attract? Let’s have a look at what you are advertising.”

She made another dive for her cloak. “Give it back. I don’t want to offend your sensibilities further,” she mocked harshly.

He wadded her cloak into a ball and stuffed it behind his back. “I’m not offended.” His husky murmur sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. He pulled her flush against him. “In fact, I’m suddenly anxious to hear why you needed to speak to me.” He leaned back, taking her with him, his manner oddly casual considering their far from casual proximity.

“Release me.” Her hands fluttered helplessly, having nowhere to land except his chest. Her palms dropped on the firm expanse of muscles.

Unable to resist, her fingers curled into the hardness. She arched her spine to get away but only succeeded in nearly pulling her br**sts out of her bodice.

His gaze dipped to where she spilled out of her dress. “You… needed me?” She did not miss the double innuendo.

“No,” she denied.

“No? Then why are you here?” His hand touched a lock of hair that fell over the curve of one breast, rubbing the strands between his fingers idly.

The flippant quality of his voice set her on edge. As did the way his lazy gaze traveled over her cl**vage. He dropped her lock of hair and rubbed the back of his index finger against the sensitive flesh of her br**sts. That ringer dipped lower, beneath the bodice of her gown, until she felt its friction as it rolled across her nipple. Back and forth, back and forth, each stroke sending the blood roaring to her head.

She whimpered—from frustration or arousal, she could not say. He watched her intently as he pulled her bodice down farther with one effortless yank. Her bare br**sts filled his rough palms.

It was only that gentle assault that held her, but she could not have pulled away. The low ache in her belly grew with nagging insistency. Her knees slipped down on either side of his hips. She sank onto his lap, both shocked and thrilled at the hard ridge rising to meet that most intimate part of her. His eyes glittered with raw need, stealing her breath. He pinched her nipples, abrading the hard little peaks between the callused pads of his fingers. White-hot pleasure lanced through her and a low, keening moan rose from deep in her throat.