"Not so fast." He laid her hands against his chest and imprisoned themthere. "You didn't answer my question. Why the rush to remove McDonough?Afraid of what I might do to your new friend with my current state of mindteetering on the edge?"
Sheridan narrowed her gaze on his smug, glorious face. "And what might yehave done to Ian? The man outweighs ye by a good three stones. In Scotland, hebeat every corner, and that's sayin' a lot, mind ye. Highlanders are known forbeing fierce fighters."
His eyes glinted with anger. Another woman might have been deterred by sucha sign. Sheridan wasn't.
"So we're back to that again, eh?" he asked in a tight voice.
"Back to what?"
"Back to you and all your female glee over buff and brawny men--or should Isay brawling men?"
"Female glee? And what do ye mean by that?"
"You practically swoon over men who fight."
"Swoon! I've never done such a thing in me life!"
He ignored her. "Is it something about blood that excites you? Or is it that brains and ambition don't mean anything to you?"
In less than a minute, Sheridan's concern for the wretch reverted toboiling anger. "How dare ye say such a thing! Ye don't know me."
"You're right. I don't. You won't let me know you. I thought we were ...friends." A slight frown creased his brow.
"And who could be a friend to ye? Ye are an inconsiderate, ill-mannered...ooh!" She tried to wrench free from the viselike grip he had around herwrists. "Let go!"
"No."
Sheridan refused to acknowledge the leap in her heart at his refusal. Shedenied this physical contact was what she wanted all along, something besidesa gracious smile and gentlemanly courtesy.
"I swear by all that's holy I'll pummel ye if ye don't let me go. I don'tcare how hurt ye may be!"
"And do you know how hurt I am?" he asked, his tone having changed to ahusky rumble, taking Sheridan completely off guard. She could deal with anarrogant Nicholas, but she had no defense against a charming Nicholas. "Do youeven care?"
No formed on Sheridan's tongue, but the word would not come out. "Ye're toohardheaded to be hurt."
"If you prick me, do I not bleed?"
"Aye. Like a geyser," she returned, sucking in her cheeks to keep fromlaughing at his injured expression.
"Oh? And what about your precious Ian? I imagine he's too good to bleed."
His disgruntled tone endeared him to her even as Sheridan told herself notto make more out of his words than was there. "I wouldn't know if he bleeds."
"You mean you haven't hit him? You reserve that for me? Should I behonored?"
"Ye're the only one deservin' a cuff."
He made no reply. Instead, he glanced at Sheridan's hair, still pooled inthe middle of his chest, and took a length between his fingers. Time heldsuspended. Sheridan's breathing quickened, her bodice suddenly feeling tightagainst her breasts.
Nicholas's gaze elevated and locked with hers. He stroked her hair over hischeek and then across his lips. "You have beautiful hair," he murmured. "Likemolten fire." His hand began working its way upward until his fingers dug intothe hair at the side of her head.
Sheridan closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his hand, savoring themagic of his touch, squelching the small voice warning her to resist.
Her head rolled back as he caressed her scalp. "Nicholas," she whispered,not realizing she had done so aloud.
"Danny," he murmured back, his other hand rifling through her hair, cuppingthe back of her head, pulling her down. Sheridan's blood sang through herveins, her lips tingling with the expectancy of his kiss.
A voice chuckled. "Ah, Ho-Sing see things progress with Missy andBoss-man."
Nicholas cursed.
Sheridan gasped, her eyes flying open as she tried to dislodge herself fromNicholas's intimate embrace. He released her, but slowly, a glimmer ofsomething resembling disappointment in his eyes, coupled with a brewingtempest of other emotions.
"If you're desirous of seeing the dawning of another day," Nicholas growledat Ho-Sing, "I wouldn't say another word."
"Oh, but Ho-Sing must speak. Have something very important to tellBoss-man."
"Stow it."
"But--"
"What did I just say?"
Sheridan wondered at the slight grin tugging at Ho-Sing's lips. "Suit self,Boss-man. Don't say Ho-Sing not warn you."
Sheridan frowned at that cryptic remark and turned to gauge Nicholas'sreaction. A moment later, an uneasy feeling prickled the hair on the back ofher neck.
"Nicholas?" a new voice called out in a dulcet, caressing tone.
Beside her, Nicholas tensed. "Jessica?"
Sheridan swiveled her head to see an exquisite tall blond standing in thedoorway, her hair coifed to perfection, her complexion flawless, her seafoamgown hugging a slender figure, and her eyes a stunning shade of blue-green.Yet when those eyes traveled to Sheridan, female ire hardened them to chips ofice. Sheridan returned the woman's bold regard, glare for glare.
So this was Lady Jessica Reardon, the woman Nicholas had been seeing almostevery night. Sheridan had allowed herself to believe the woman was wart-nosedand fat. She had always been possessed of a good imagination. Unfortunately,wishing didn't make the dream reality.
Nicholas released Sheridan's wrists and roused himself to a sittingposition. Sheridan resisted the urge to sit on top of him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Jessica, no longer brusque but theepitome of civility, which made Sheridan itch to slap him.
"What are you doing here?" the lady returned, her tone clearly miffed.
Nicholas propelled himself to his feet. Sheridan glared up at his chin,waiting for him to offer her his hand. He didn't. She had been forgotten, anodd occurrence for a girl whose antics normally made her the center ofattention. Well, she'd fix that unintentional oversight.
She slammed the heel of her hand down on Nicholas's toes.
"God --" The rest of his curse was muffled. Obviously, he was attempting tocontain himself in front of his guest. Well, at least she'd gotten hisattention.
He glowered down at her.
She smiled up at him.
"Are ye all right?" she asked sweetly, knowing her eyes said I hope ithurts. "Me hand must have slipped as I was tryin' to get up--unaided."
He reached a hand down, his eyes promising repercussions if she didn'tcease and desist. Rising, she innocently brushed against him. His gaze whippedto hers.
"Thank ye," she murmured, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out athim.
"Well, Nicholas?" Lady Jessica demanded, making her the focal point onceagain, a fact that ruffled Sheridan. "What is going on here?"
"Nothing is going on here." Nicholas smiled at Jessica, not the politesmile he had bestowed upon Sheridan for two long weeks, but the charming devilsmile, the one that put a beautiful dimple in his cheek and never failed tomelt her into a puddle. And as she glanced at Lady Jessica, Sheridan could seehis grin begin to work its magic.
"I took a bad spill," he went on. "And Miss Delaney came to my aid." Hislast word sounded a bit choked.
"How fortuitous," the woman replied tersely, her eyes raking over Sheridan."Delaney. That wouldn't be Irish now, would it?"
Sheridan suspected she wouldn't like the woman. The feeling had now beenconfirmed. Her chin and defenses went up. "Aye. It is."
"Hmm." The woman flicked one last haughty glance at her and then returnedher regard to Nicholas. Before Sheridan's astonished gaze, the woman'sfeatures softened, her big blue eyes forlorn and innocent, her lip quiveringslightly. "I guess I've picked an inappropriate time to visit." She sniffleddelicately. "I just wanted to bring you some flowers from my garden."
Flowers, Sheridan silently scoffed. What man wanted flowers?
"I love flowers," Nicholas said, refuting Sheridan's thought.
"You do?" Lady Jessica asked in a squeaky voice.
"I do."
"Well, if that's the case..." The woman stepped aside, and Sheridan got herfirst glimpse of another body behind Lady Jessica.
The person's face was completely hidden behind a mammoth bouquet of vibrantflowers, bursting with color and arranged to perfection, and definitely notdone by the lily-white hands of Lady Jessica Reardon.
Brushing past Sheridan, Nicholas moved toward Jessica. "They're lovely." Hepressed a tender kiss on the woman's hand.
A strange and unwelcome emotion corkscrewed inside Sheridan. She had anoverwhelming desire to dump the flowers over Nicholas's thick skull and yankevery blond hair from the head of Lady That-Wouldn't-Be-Irish-Now-Would-It?
Jessica's lashes swept down, showcasing their long length, before shegifted Nicholas with a practiced expression of the coy maiden. "I made thisbouquet especially for you." Her voice dropped a notch as she added, "To thankyou for another wonderful evening."
Jessica snapped her fingers. The body framed in the threshold waddledforward and presented the flowers to Nicholas, who took them as if the crownjewels had just been bestowed upon him.
"I hope you like them," the blasted woman simpered.
"Without question. I'll put them on the round table out in the foyer soeveryone can see them."
A small voice told Sheridan to leave well enough alone, but that smallvoice had never held sway over her in all her eighteen years.
Coming to stand next to Nicholas, she pointed to a white, trumpet-shapedblossom. "What's that one called?"
Jessica's gaze flicked her way, sending Sheridan a warning look thatNicholas didn't see. "That one? Why that's a... a..."
"A lily, m'lady," the body next to Jessica answered with an accent Sheridanimmediately recognized.
A smug smiled filtered across Jessica's face. "Ah, yes, a lily. I was justabout to say that."
Sheridan momentarily ignored Jessica. Tilting her head to the side, aplump-faced, rosy-cheeked young girl in a mobcap greeted her with a wink and asmile.
"That will be all, Maggie." Jessica waved a dismissive hand over hershoulder. "Wait for me in the carriage."
Maggie bobbed her head. "Yes, mum."
"Ho-Sing," Nicholas said, "can you see Jessica's maid out?"
Ho-Sing bowed crisply, something Sheridan doubted he did often. "Rightaway, Boss-man."
Maggie shot one last quick grin at Sheridan before disappearing out thedoor.
Jessica's tut-tutting brought Sheridan's gaze back to her. A look ofdistaste marred the woman's cameo-shaped face. "I don't know how you can standthese foreigners in your house, Nicholas." She darted a glance at Sheridan,clearly conveying she was lumped into that category. "I'd fear being murderedin my bed."
Sheridan waited for Nicholas to speak in Ho-Sing's defense--in loud, angrytones, hopefully. Instead he said mildly, "That is the last thing I worryabout. Ho-Sing is extremely competent. I don't know what I'd do without him."
Jessica gave a sharp twist of the white gloves in her hands, obviously notappreciating her remarks being dashed to bits instead of heeded with all duehaste. "You have all these odd characters roaming about."
"I happen to like odd characters."
Even though Nicholas wasn't looking at her, Sheridan felt his remark wasdirected at her.
"Do you know what that senile butler said to me when I told him to take mywrap?"
"No, what did he say?" Humor tinged Nicholas's voice.
"He told me it was too early for him to take a nap."
Nicholas chuckled and Jessica bristled. "It's not funny. My father wouldnever employ such a slipshod character."
That wiped the smile from Nicholas's face. "I'm not your father."
Sheridan could see that Jessica realized she was not getting anywhere andchanged tactics.
She leaned forward, probably with the intention of mesmerizing Nicholaswith her cleavage, but her overly ostentatious flower arrangement lay squarelybetween them, little fronds vexing the woman as she tried to move closer tohim. Sheridan hid a grin.
"I'm sorry, my darling," she purred. "I don't know what came over me. It isjust that I worry about you. These people aren't like us."
These people aren't like us.
The words resounded in Sheridan's ears, seeping into a part of her shebelieved too toughened for any more hurt. Perhaps the realization thatJessica's words were true made them sting all the more. Sheridan wasn't fromNicholas's world.
Jessica was.
English and Irish. Enemies for nearly eight hundred years. Sheridan hadheard that statement often enough from her mother.