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Locked in a dumbstruck silence, Emma nodded. Nikolas answered for her, startling the others at the
table away from their own light conversations.  Indeed, the princess does know of him. Before our
marriage, the princess set her cap for Milbank, but he proved too elusive& and so she had to settle for
me.
Emma's gaze flew to his. There was a gleam in his amber eyes that betrayed a touch of malicious
enjoyment. Had he planned this? Had he remembered that Brixton was the name of the woman Adam
was betrothed to? Confusion and outrage tangled inside her. She tried to conceal her emotions by
picking up her silver spoon, her fingers trembling slightly.
The sultry beauty to Nikolas's right interceded. She was all dark-eyed flirtatiousness as she spoke to him
in a honeyed voice.  Your Highness, I would hardly call that  settling ! A man as wealthy and attractive
as you are would be any rational woman's first choice.
 My only choice, Emma said with poisonous sweetness.
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Only Nikolas understood the barb. He acknowledged it with a mocking smile, raising his glass to her.
 Let us say that both Lord Milbank and I have been blessed with good fortune he for attaining the hand
of Miss Brixton, and I for winning the beautiful Emelia.
For the next several minutes Emma ate mechanically and listened to Brixton's chatter. Thankfully he
didn't seem to require anything more than an occasional smile and nod.
Meeting Brixton tonight was like a slap in the face. In all the activity of her new life, Emma had managed
not to think about Adam too often. But seeing this man made it a reality, that there was indeed a woman
Adam would make his wife, a week from now aweek & She steeled herself to keep her eyes from
watering, to keep from thinking,God, I want it to be me & Every time she glanced at Nikolas, she found
him watching her, coolly analyzing her heightened color, every flutter of her lashes, every shade of
expression. What did he want from her? What did he hope to see in her face?
 You're quite the most enjoyable English lady I've met, Brixton said.  So friendly and open. It's a nice
change.
Emma forced her attention back to him.  I'll admit the English have a well-earned reputation for being
reserved.
 Why aren't you, then?
 I don't know, she answered, smiling.  I'm just odd, I suppose.
Brixton gave her a blatantly admiring glance.  Perhaps so, Your Highness. But in the nicest possible
way.
Emma blushed and looked across the table. Nikolas stared at her impassively, his lips touched with a
mocking smile, as if she were some foolish child he had caught in a lie.
Although the interplay between Emma and Nikolas was never what anyone would call affectionate, at
least they had always managed a friendly banter in front of guests. This evening it was impossible. Emma
was miserably aware of the strained silences between them. Nikolas was at his most obnoxious, treating
her to cold stares and jeering taunts. Emma longed to snap at him that she had done nothing to deserve
such treatment. Had Nikolas guessed somehow that she had been affected by Oliver Brixton's presence
tonight? Did it annoy him that she still had feelings for Adam? Was hejealous ? No, Nikolas had never
shown any signs of caring for her that way. It must be that his pride had been stung.
Emma suffered through the rest of the evening, profoundly relieved when the guests finally took their
leave after midnight. Without a word to Nikolas, she hurried up to her suite and slammed the door. The
effort of smiling and eating and making conversation had exhausted her. Trying to calm her jangling
nerves, she rang for Rashel to help her undress, and paced around the suite until the maid arrived.
Seeming to understand her mistress's fury, Rashel was silent and efficient as she unfastened Emma's gown
and unhooked her stays.
 I can do the rest, Emma said shortly, motioning for her to leave.  Thank you, Rashel.Spahkóynigh
nóchyee .
 Good night, Your Highness, the maid replied in kind, slipping out the door.
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Emma donned an embroidered linen nightgown and went to bed, pausing only to jerk the pins from her
hair and run her fingers through it. She lay in the darkness with a sheet pulled up to her breasts, and tried
to recall Oliver Brixton's face in detail. Did Charlotte Brixton resemble her brother? The same round
cheeks, the same light, thin hair?I hope she has a fortune big enough to satisfy you, Adam , Emma
thought grimly,if that's what you really wanted . She remembered Adam at their last meeting, at the
Angelovsky ball& his warm brown eyes, his boyish smile, the pressure of his lips on hers, his voice
saying,I adore you & A tear squeezed from beneath her lashes, and she buried her face in the pillow.
She had almost drifted off to sleep, her body curled and relaxed, when there was movement in the
darkness. Making a drowsy, questioning sound, Emma began to roll onto her back. A heavy body
pounced on hers, a spring of coiled muscle. In her drugged confusion she thought she was dreaming and
was being attacked by her tiger, Manchu. A man's hot breath pelted against her ear, and she was stunned
to realize it was her husband.
 Nikolas?
He pinned her to the mattress with his weight. Although he was fully clothed, the insistent jut of his
arousal was unmistakable as it pressed against her bottom. Emma gasped in surprise, wriggling to free
herself as his liquor-soured breath wafted to her nostrils.
 You're a possession to me, do you understand? came Nikolas's sneering voice.  I own every damn bit
of you. I knew what you wanted tonight I saw the way you flirted and smiled while Brixton looked
down your dress. You wanted me to be jealous, my scheming little wife, but it didn't work. I will never
be jealous of you.
Emma recovered enough from her astonishment to jab her elbow against his ribs.  Get off me, you
drunken ass, she cried in a muffled voice.
Nikolas flipped her over and pressed himself between her thighs. He was breathing heavily, from rage or
passion, or from some volatile mixture of both.  You want to tie my soul into knots, he muttered.  But
you won't make me feel anything I don't want to feel. I will never love you.
 Who asked you to? Emma replied hotly. Then she was still, and in a peculiar flash of understanding
she knew that Nikolas was afraid, that he was fighting desperately against his own feelings. Wonderingly
she reached up to his shadowy figure, her fingers touching the rumpled locks at the side of his head.
 Nikki 
He jerked back with a furious sound.  Don't call me that.
 Coward, she said, the accusation soft but clear.  Why are you so terrified of being close to me?
Emma felt his tremor of anger as he crouched astride her hips, anger that made his bones lock and his
muscles clench. Then Nikolas gave a defeated groan and bent over her. His mouth sought hers, yearning,
passionate, and his hands tore at her nightgown to find her willing body beneath. She moved to help him,
pulling at her own clothes and his, ripping his white lawn shirt, yanking at his trousers with such urgency [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]