The River of No Return by Bee Ridgway (best novels of all time txt) 📕

face felt good. She didn’t know why he was coming toward her looking so ferocious, but if he thought he could scare her he could think again. Then he looked up and his eyes fastened on hers and his frown deepened. But he closed the space between them in a few short strides and his hand in its brown glove reached for hers. “Julia,” he said, and his voice was rough.

She put her black-gloved hand in his and curtsied, her back straight. “My lord.”

He looked down at her, holding her hand lightly in his. Now that he was close she could tell that he was angry with himself and not with her. He said nothing.

“You are thinking you should not have come,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You invited me. It was for me to accept or decline. If you had not come, and I had, you would have been breaking every rule of good society.”

He smiled grimly. “By inviting you I broke every rule of good society, and you know it.”

“Yes, I do know it,” she said. They stood for a moment, looking at their entwined hands, his brown fingers holding her black. She could feel the banked energy in his fingers, even as they held hers as gently as a bone china teacup. She lifted her eyes. She intended to say that she knew he was here only to make plans, but instead she said, “I am glad you came. I—”

* * *

Suddenly he was kissing her. Perhaps he could not have helped it. Her rain-wet mouth, her red cloak, the dark trees, the smell of the earth, and most of all her dark eyes looking so candidly into his, those eyes that had haunted him for centuries . . . Before she could finish what she was saying, he gathered her into his arms, his lips found hers.

At first it felt innocent, if only because of the cool rainwater on their faces. Her lips, fresh with rain, trembled beneath his like the leaves trembling above their heads. Her nose tucked perfectly against his, and he pulled her still more tightly against him. Even through their layers of wet clothing he thought he could feel her heart fluttering, but perhaps it was his own heart, or simply his own blood singing in his ears.

Then he pulled back, just a little. Her sweet breath washed warm over his face, and nothing was innocent anymore. They were back among the trees, and she was up against the smooth trunk of an ancient beech, her arms around his neck as he kissed her open mouth and reached into the opening of her cloak and around to pull her narrow waist closer to him. His hat was knocked from his head; her dark hair was half spilling down her shoulders. He kissed her face, her closed eyes, her chin, and down her neck. She cried his name, and it sounded so perfect on her lips—Nicholas. “Say that again,” he breathed in her ear, feeling her shiver and arch more firmly against him. “Nicholas,” she whispered. He flicked his tongue lightly around her ear, and she swayed and seemed to lose her balance. He caught her delicious bottom in his hands and brought her gasping against his thighs. She pulled his head down for another kiss.

Then, as if by mutual agreement, it slowly began to end. Perhaps it was the change in the light as the rain stopped. Or perhaps it was that there were only two choices, and one of them was unthinkable. In any case, like sleepers slowly waking, they pulled clingingly apart until they stood facing each other again, her black-gloved hand in his brown-gloved hand, gazing down together at their fingers.

“Julia.”

She didn’t look up but pulled her hand from his. “Say nothing.”

“How do you know what I would say?”

She brushed her hands down her cloak, and it fell closed again across her black dress. “I just do not want you to say anything.” She looked up. “Let it be.”

“I am not free,” he said.

The shock came to her eyes immediately, and he stumbled to explain. “I don’t mean—”

She held her hand up and turned away. “I asked you to say nothing.”

Nick reached for her and managed to capture the edge of her cloak. She looked back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“You are right. You asked me to be silent and I was not able to keep from trying to explain. For that I apologize.”

“I accept your apology.”

“I do not, however, apologize for kissing you, Julia. That, I had to do. I don’t regret it.”

She wheeled and faced him fully, twitching her cloak from his fingers. “If you had apologized for that, Nicholas Falcott,” she said, “you would at this moment be sporting a black eye.”

That made all his desire come surging back. “You are gallant, Julia,” he said roughly. “A champion. I fully intend to kiss you again one day.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

She stared at him for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was low and vibrant. “The road to hell is paved with such intentions, my lord. It will be a cold day in that place when you kiss me again.” She turned and stalked away.

“Wait,” he called. “I must inform you of another matter.”

She stopped without turning. “Yes?”

“I am sorry to detain you, but I thought you should be warned. My sister and I have devised a plan for your release from Castle Dar. Clare, my friend Count Lebedev, and I will be arriving this afternoon at four to confront your cousin. We intend to be disgustingly imperious. I shall be the grand marquess, and Clare shall be the outraged lady of virtue. Lebedev will fill in as necessary. The intention is to shame your cousin into releasing you.”

She turned her head and showed him one haughty eye. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, stiffly formal. “I shall be ready.” She snapped her head back around and walked away, her red cloak brilliant against the wet green leaves.

Nick watched her