Read Online Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr by Elizabeth Amber - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Amber
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signing.
“Will you explain this to me?” she asked him, tapping a particular codicil with her pen nib. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
“It’s your marriage contract. You are to sign here,” he replied, indicating a blank area on the final page.
Did he think her witless?
“May I take a private moment to study it?” she asked.
Her aunt tittered nervously. “Don’t be absurd, Jane. That could take all morning. And Lord Satyr might mistake it to mean you distrust him. Sign your name and be done with it.”
Jane sensed a restive movement in the shadows. A man rose from the chair. The man from the tent. The one who wished to marry her. Lord Nicholas Satyr.
“Don’t concern yourself, my lord, she will sign,” Izabel cooed prettily. But when she turned to her niece, her eyes were frosted slits. “Won’t you, Jane?”
“I would speak to Signorina Cova in private,” said Lord Satyr. The low rumble of his velvet voice caressed Jane’s nerve endings, causing the pen in her hand to tremble.
“Certainly, signore,” said Izabel, leaping to her feet. She tugged Jane’s father toward the door.
The attorney tossed her an encouraging wink as he ushered himself out, hard on their heels, folding the double doors shut behind them.
Jane stared after the trio, appalled. Her aunt knew the impropriety of leaving an unmarried female in the sole company of a gentleman. What was she thinking?
She turned to find Lord Satyr inspecting her.
“No pipe?” he asked, his lips curving slightly.
It took her a second to comprehend his meaning. The corncob pipe from her gypsy fortuneteller costume, he meant. So he had seen through her disguise.
She shrugged. “The occasion didn’t seem to call for it.”
His smile broadened.
He was extremely handsome, even more so than she remembered, if that were possible. Emma would think him a knight in, well, a dark waistcoat. Now that she studied the coat at close range, Jane saw that it bore a black-on-black design depicting bizarre beasts with tails and wings intertwined with vines and flourishes. On another man it might have looked outlandish, but somehow the peculiar coat served only to accentuate his masculinity.
Nick noted and accepted her interest in his form as useful. Some thought him vain, he knew. But one couldn’t live to nearly thirty years of age and not be aware of the effect one’s looks had on the feminine sex. He knew his features were arranged in an appealing way and used the knowledge to his advantage in social and business dealings. Beyond that, his own attractions were of little interest to him.
Her scent had teased at him since she’d entered the room. It was of spring and new sky and of crushed blossoms and cool, shaded earth.
He shifted closer, wanting more.
Satisfaction zinged through his blood at her nearness, stiffening his cock. There was no doubt this time. Everything about her proclaimed her to be of ElseWorld heritage. In the way of the Faerie, her face and form were delicate and ethereal, her manner and movements graceful.
Stilling, he allowed himself to savor her, to bask in the joy of discovering the woman he would take to wife. The urge to claim her—to mate her here and now—swelled in him, taking him off guard. The need shouldn’t be so strong.
Several days earlier he’d traveled home, returning to Tivoli only yesterday. The sole purpose of his trip had been to take part in the Calling along with his brothers. It was possible to perform the ritual away from his estate, but when his mind and body were given over to the Change, he was vulnerable and preferred not to be among strangers.
When he spoke, Nick gave no clue as to what he’d been thinking. “You’re reluctant to sign. Why?”
Jane’s gaze darted to the door and then back to him. “You must know your offer comes as a surprise.”
“A happy one?” he inquired.
“In my aunt’s view, at least,” she replied with a tight smile.
“And in
“Will you explain this to me?” she asked him, tapping a particular codicil with her pen nib. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
“It’s your marriage contract. You are to sign here,” he replied, indicating a blank area on the final page.
Did he think her witless?
“May I take a private moment to study it?” she asked.
Her aunt tittered nervously. “Don’t be absurd, Jane. That could take all morning. And Lord Satyr might mistake it to mean you distrust him. Sign your name and be done with it.”
Jane sensed a restive movement in the shadows. A man rose from the chair. The man from the tent. The one who wished to marry her. Lord Nicholas Satyr.
“Don’t concern yourself, my lord, she will sign,” Izabel cooed prettily. But when she turned to her niece, her eyes were frosted slits. “Won’t you, Jane?”
“I would speak to Signorina Cova in private,” said Lord Satyr. The low rumble of his velvet voice caressed Jane’s nerve endings, causing the pen in her hand to tremble.
“Certainly, signore,” said Izabel, leaping to her feet. She tugged Jane’s father toward the door.
The attorney tossed her an encouraging wink as he ushered himself out, hard on their heels, folding the double doors shut behind them.
Jane stared after the trio, appalled. Her aunt knew the impropriety of leaving an unmarried female in the sole company of a gentleman. What was she thinking?
She turned to find Lord Satyr inspecting her.
“No pipe?” he asked, his lips curving slightly.
It took her a second to comprehend his meaning. The corncob pipe from her gypsy fortuneteller costume, he meant. So he had seen through her disguise.
She shrugged. “The occasion didn’t seem to call for it.”
His smile broadened.
He was extremely handsome, even more so than she remembered, if that were possible. Emma would think him a knight in, well, a dark waistcoat. Now that she studied the coat at close range, Jane saw that it bore a black-on-black design depicting bizarre beasts with tails and wings intertwined with vines and flourishes. On another man it might have looked outlandish, but somehow the peculiar coat served only to accentuate his masculinity.
Nick noted and accepted her interest in his form as useful. Some thought him vain, he knew. But one couldn’t live to nearly thirty years of age and not be aware of the effect one’s looks had on the feminine sex. He knew his features were arranged in an appealing way and used the knowledge to his advantage in social and business dealings. Beyond that, his own attractions were of little interest to him.
Her scent had teased at him since she’d entered the room. It was of spring and new sky and of crushed blossoms and cool, shaded earth.
He shifted closer, wanting more.
Satisfaction zinged through his blood at her nearness, stiffening his cock. There was no doubt this time. Everything about her proclaimed her to be of ElseWorld heritage. In the way of the Faerie, her face and form were delicate and ethereal, her manner and movements graceful.
Stilling, he allowed himself to savor her, to bask in the joy of discovering the woman he would take to wife. The urge to claim her—to mate her here and now—swelled in him, taking him off guard. The need shouldn’t be so strong.
Several days earlier he’d traveled home, returning to Tivoli only yesterday. The sole purpose of his trip had been to take part in the Calling along with his brothers. It was possible to perform the ritual away from his estate, but when his mind and body were given over to the Change, he was vulnerable and preferred not to be among strangers.
When he spoke, Nick gave no clue as to what he’d been thinking. “You’re reluctant to sign. Why?”
Jane’s gaze darted to the door and then back to him. “You must know your offer comes as a surprise.”
“A happy one?” he inquired.
“In my aunt’s view, at least,” she replied with a tight smile.
“And in
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