Recognizing one of the paintings on the wall, she stepped close to admire it while unfastening her wrap. She pulled the fabric from her shoulders and felt the warmth of the room whisper across her bare skin.
Nicholas stood in the shadows of the hallway, trying to control his breathing, in complete awe of how beautiful she looked. He drew in a few deep calming breaths before entering the room. "Victoria, I'm so glad you came. And may I say you look absolutely breathtaking tonight. Where ever did you find that magnificent gown?" he asked, his eyes drinking in her deep cleavage.
"Thank you Nicholas. This gown was given to me by a friend," she replied mysteriously.
"There's a woman in this town who dresses like that?" he asked.
"She used to, not anymore."
"So, is this intoxicating gown for my benefit?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
"No, it's for mine," she replied. Stepping towards him, she said in a low voice, "Tonight I want you in my power, under my spell."
Lowering his tone to match, he replied, "Well, I think it may be working, I'm feeling utterly bewitched." His hands skimmed along her bare arms.
"Now, now, Mr. Andrews. You promised to be on your best behavior tonight," she admonished in a teasing voice, but didn't step away.
"And what if I break that promise?" he asked, his voice still low, as his arm slowly snaked around her waist.
"Well, then, you won't get any pie," she replied, her voice full of suggestion.
He threw his head back and laughed. "I certainly don't want to miss that, so if you will please excuse my bad behavior," he chuckled, removing his arm from her waist.
Their dinner was delightful, exactly what she had been missing. The witty, flirtatious conversation came so easily to them both, the months they had spent apart seemed to disappear. As Mrs. Fraser had promised, Nicholas was entranced by her in the seductive silk, his eyes often dropping to her gown, scanning her almost bare shoulders, dipping to her deep cleavage. She leaned forward often, on the pretense of listening closely to what he was saying and stared deeply into his inviting green eyes.
As the pie was being served, he asked her in a low voice, "Have I behaved? Am I allowed to have my pie?"
Smiling she answered, "Yes, you've been delightful company tonight. You're allowed."
Lifting a forkful to his mouth, he murmured, "And then I can misbehave."
"Not if you want me to come back," she warned, still smiling.
As the dishes were cleared away, he invited her back to the parlor. "Have you acquired any new paintings since I left San Francisco?" she asked looking at the one on the wall she had been admiring when she first arrived.
"No. I was so busy with selling the hotels, gambling houses and my home that I haven't had time," he answered.
Somewhere in the house a clock struck ten o'clock, reminding her of the hour. "It's been a wonderful evening, Nicholas. I've been longing for one like it for quite some time. Thank you," she said.
"Does this mean you're leaving?" he asked, clearly disappointed.
With a small smile she replied, "Yes, I'm afraid the evening has come to an end all too soon."
His hand reached out to caress her cheek. "It doesn't have to be over," he whispered, moving closer to her.
Gently removing his hand, she replied softly, "No, Nicholas. I'm not staying."
"But you will come back?" he asked, trying to keep the edge of desperation that he was beginning to feel out of his voice.
"Yes, I'll come back. Is your offer of a carriage still available?" she asked smiling up at him. "I really don't feel like walking home."
At the door he gently ran his hands up her bare arms. She had her wrap in her hands and was about to pull it about her shoulders when he stopped her.
"Not yet," he murmured as his hands tenderly wrapped around her arms. He gently pulled her to him and she willingly tipped her face to his. Their lips met hungrily, the desire for each other they had been holding in check all night suddenly coming to the fore. He pulled her tight, wrapping his arms around her, relishing in the feel, smell and taste of her.
His tongue sought hers through her parted lips as she circled her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her senses filled to overflowing with him and she knew in that instant that she could never marry Daniel, that Nicholas was the only man for her.
Her determination from earlier in the evening, that things would be different from San Francisco came back and she gently pulled away. She looked into the flames burning in his bright green eyes and almost faltered. No, she would not end up in his bed tonight.
Hearing the carriage pull up outside, she whispered, "Good night, Nicholas," before draping her wrap about her shoulders and slipping from his arms and out the door.
Spreading the deep blue silk skirts over the seat of the carriage, she caressed the sumptuous fabric. Mrs. Fraser had been right about the dress. At first she had thought that the power was to be over Nicholas, but she now knew it was for her. She had never felt so beautiful, so self-confident, so strong before. And that strength had enabled her to resist him tonight. To resist those warm green eyes, that low silky voice and most importantly, that deeply seductive kiss. Under any other circumstances, she would be in his bed right now.
A small shiver slid down her spine as she thought of that night four days ago, when she had found herself in his bed. It had been wondrous, but it wasn't going to happen again until she was his wife. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of it. His wife. Yes, she loved him, she finally admitted to herself. She had been in love with him even before she left San Francisco. She just hadn't realized it.
