Page 68 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
But not yet.
Maybe never,whispered a dangerous little voice inside his head.
He ignored that and rolled over, taking her with him. She sprawled limp and warm atop his chest, her hair in his face and her head snuggled almost affectionately under his chin. He felt her press a soft kiss to the pulse at the base of his throat, and he closed his eyes.
No one, aside from Charlotte, treated him with affection. And Charlotte, his much younger sister, could only provide a certain sort of affection.
He admired Emilia’s nerve. He respected her cleverness and resourcefulness. He adored her tart wit. He lusted over her luscious curves and satiny skin. And now he discovered that he craved her affection, too.
“What is this?” Emilia whispered, tracing one finger over his tattoo.
Nick grimaced. “The scar of youthful foolishness.”
She laughed, her shoulders shaking. “Why a mermaid?”
“Because I was nine years old,” he said in amusement, “and I thought they were real. Theyhadto be! Every sailor on board swore to me he’d seen at least one. Some convinced me I was too young to see them. ‘Mermaids only show themselves to proper men, see,’” he said in imitation of the old tar’s voice who’d told him tales of alluring women with fish tails who lived in the ocean. “‘When you’re a bit bigger, lad, they’ll come to you.’”
Emilia laughed again. Nick grinned, remembering his indignation. Of course, what the tar had really said was that it was his cock that needed to grow before any females, human or aquatic, would want him.
“So why did you mark one on your skin?”
Nick snorted. “Because I was an idiot. I was a real sailor, and sailors have tattoos! So I got into the rum one night and a pair of them did it for me.”
She lurched up on one elbow. “Into the rum—! At age nine? What did your father say?”
Nick said nothing. He started stroking her back, idly, and slowly she came back down onto his chest. “Did it hurt?” She touched the mermaid again.
“Like the devil.” He tucked her closer. “I knew it would, which is why I stole the rum.”
She shook her head. “But then you left the sea.”
Nick’s hand went still. “Not by my choice.”
He felt the tension spring up in her back, and hated that he’d caused it. She said nothing.
There were two paths open to him here: he could say nothing, as he had done for so many years whenever everyone tried to learn anything about him, making clear to Emilia that the subject was closed and not to be discussed.
Or... he could tell her.
He could tell her something.
“My aunt,” he said carefully, “felt a boy of ten should not be on a ship. She protested to my father, and in the end she took me in.”
Emilia was quiet for a long minute. “You didn’t like that,” she said softly.
“I hated it.” Nick ran his fingers up her spine again. “Not because I loved my father dearly, nor even because I longed to be a sailor, but because...” He smiled wryly. “Because she took me from the dangerous but thrilling adventure of the seagoing life, straight to one of solemn church services, cold baths, and strict rules. It was like caging a wild beast.”
“Perhaps she feared for your safety,” Emilia ventured. “Your father must have agreed, if he gave you into her care.”
“She cared not to have a nephew who was a rude little heathen,” he replied, amused. “My father cared for the money she offered him.”
Emilia started, then jerked upright again.“What?”
He folded one arm behind his head and smiled at her expression. “Four hundred pounds, it cost Aunt Heloise, to pry me loose from my wicked sire. I’ve no idea if she ever thought it a good bargain, or simply refused to admit defeat by sending me back.”
She stared at him in horror.
“Did you think your family tale shocked me?” Nick shrugged. “Mine is worse.”
