Cheryl Holt (42 page)

Rising up, she slinked off the bed, advancing on him, her appealing hips swaying as she walked, then she knelt down. Rigid as a marble statue, he stood, watching her, wondering how far she’d go, how willing she was to debase herself.

She tugged the hem of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and pushed the lapels aside, stroking her palms up his chest. She removed her scarf, and brushed it across his belly, inducing his abdominal muscles to clench, his balls to wrench with lust, then she threw it away, and it fluttered to the rug.

She went to the placard of his pants, the buttons dropping away, and he did nothing to dissuade her, keeping his emotions shielded.

His trousers were loosened, and as she reached inside,
his mounting temper and increasing desire warred with each other. He was hard, aching, his body demanding satiation, and as she licked the oozing tip, as she sucked at him, he couldn’t tamp down a hiss of breath.

Other than that minor lapse, he was able to block any response, for he wouldn’t let her discern how unsettled he was.

Her mouth was hot, slippery, and within seconds, he was at the edge. It would serve her right if he proceeded, if he spilled himself in her throat. If she was determined to act the whore, why not treat her like one?

He thrust. Thrust again, but he was too close to climax, and he grabbed her by the neck, viciously pitching her away. With a soft cry of alarm, she toppled over.

Stomping off, his back to her, he straightened his clothes, himself. For an agonized minute, he stared at the wall, calming his passion, his fury, then he whipped around. “What do you want from me?”

She was on her knees, and massaging a wrist that had smacked the floor when he’d shoved her, but he wouldn’t feel any sympathy. After what she’d put him through, whatever happened to her was justified.

She tottered to her feet. “Can’t you guess?”

“No. I haven’t any bloody idea.”

“I want
you
.”

“Oh, stop it,” he scoffed. “You’re humiliating yourself.”

“I do want you,” she protested, appearing hurt and confused. Beseeching him, she held out her hand, took a step toward him, then another. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You have an intriguing way of showing it.” His fingers shaky, he refastened his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. “What do you intend? A romp for old time’s sake? Another pathetic cuckolding of my father? Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t oblige you.”

“Whyever not? There’s no one to say what we can or cannot do.”

Was she purposely taunting him? Playing dumb? Why would she? Didn’t she grasp that her very presence was torture? “Shouldn’t you be up at the manor, getting your beauty rest so that you’re prepared for the resumption of your wedding ceremony?”

“Oh, didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Coyly, she went to his bed and started to climb onto the mattress.

On seeing what she was about, his ire spiraled, and he rushed to her and yanked her away. He did not want her on his bed ever again!

“Tell me what?” he shouted, clutching her by the shoulders and whirling her around.

“I’m not marrying Edward.”

He didn’t want to ask why; he didn’t want to
know
the reason. He didn’t care about her. Yet before he could prevent it, the question flew out. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve decided to marry someone else.”

Disgusted, wounded anew, he scathingly evaluated her. “Aren’t you amazing?” Sickened, he lurched away, wondering how he could have thought he knew or understood her. “What kind of person are you? You take me as your lover, then you agree to marry Edward—when you swore to me you wouldn’t.”

Resigned, she sighed. “Yes, well, it turns out I can’t wed Edward.”

“Has he tossed your over?”

“Actually, yes. He’s advised me that he’s in love with another.”

“Who?” As if he had no inkling! In the two stressful days he’d spent with Winnie, locating the children and
delivering the three of them to Salisbury, he’d come to treasure her. How lucky his father was!

“Winnie,” she confirmed. “I assume he’s proposing to her even as we speak.”

“So you dashed out here to fornicate, the moment he rejected you?”

“Yes. And I can’t figure out why you won’t participate.” Boldly, she examined his crotch. “It’s not as if you don’t
want
to.”

“You can’t comprehend why I’d spurn you? How about the fact that, in a smattering of weeks, you plowed through me and my father, and now you’re off to someone else. What is wrong with you? Do you have so many men falling at your feet that you can’t pick a favorite? Or are you simply fickle beyond imagining?”

“He’s a rather fine gentleman.” She was strutting about, comfortable with her nudity, with the situation. “Handsome, intelligent, compassionate, dynamic, brave, loyal, and true. He possesses all the traits a woman craves in a man,
and
he’s about to be endowed with property that will earn him an excellent income. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

What a mercenary leech! Astounded and aghast, he hadn’t realized she harbored such ruthless tendencies!

Facetiously, he countered, “No, you definitely shouldn’t miss out on such a remarkable fellow! Felicitations, Lady O, on your shrewd maneuvering. I hope your rich catch garners you all the happiness you deserve.”

She laughed again! Had she no shame? No regard for his feelings? He would have done anything for her, would have given her the world, made any sacrifice, scaled any hurdle, sustained any hardship, and this was how she repaid him!

“Please leave,” he pleaded. But she didn’t budge, so he snarled, “At once!”

“Oh, you silly oaf,” she gently chided. “I’m teasing you.”

“About what?”

“It’s you, you fool! I’m going to marry
you!
”

“Well, isn’t that grand, Lady Olivia, but I haven’t asked you to marry me.” Not today, anyway. He’d offered in the past, but he was no longer interested. He couldn’t abide the whirlwind she put him through.

He was anxious to reclaim his sedate life—the one he’d enjoyed before she’d burst into it, where he’d been surrounded by his cottage, and his horses, and his stablemates. He’d thrived on routine and habit, on the spasmodic relationship with his father.

He yearned for peace and quiet. No discord. No upheaval. No sorrow or adversity. He wanted to be left alone.

“Go ahead, then,” she needled. “I’ll accept.”

She was batting her lashes, positive he’d relent, that he’d leap at the chance to demean himself. He wouldn’t! He couldn’t! He couldn’t put himself at risk.

She was grinning, waiting, but he said nothing, and her smile began to falter, then faded entirely. It was as if the lamp had been extinguished, or the sun had flitted behind a dark cloud.

Bucking up, he declined to pity her, or pay any heed to how he’d dashed her excitement.

“Unless you don’t really want me,” she murmured, and it was a grotesque reenactment of the evening he’d begged her to elope, only in reverse. “Unless you never meant it.”

“Oh, I meant it, all right. Every damned time. I just grew tired of being told no.”

“I won’t say no.”

“How convenient. I’ve met many women of the
ton
, but I do believe you’re the most inconstant of them all.” He gestured around the small, unpretentious room. “This is who I am, what I have. My father is dangling a potentiality before me—which may or may not come to fruition—and suddenly you’re dying to wed me. What if it never transpires? What if he never follows through, and you’re stuck with this tiny cottage?” Leaning nearer, he sneered, “What if you meet someone tomorrow who can provide you with more?”

“Is that what you suppose this is about? That you might inherit a bit of land so now I’m eager?”

“That’s what I’m sure it’s about.” He pointed to the door, wanting the hideous quarrel to end. “Go!”

She studied him, and he could see her irritation escalating. Her cheeks flushed with color, her pulse pounded. “Do you have any notion of what the last few days have been like for me?” She marched over to him—naked breasts and all—and jabbed an irate finger at his chest. “Do you?”

“Well . . . I . . . I . . .” Having concluded that she was delighted at snagging her earl, he hadn’t pondered what she’d been through. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might have been miserable, that she might have been laboring under dire stress, herself.

His resolve started to melt. He’d erected a wall around his heart, and though he struggled to keep it in place, it commenced collapsing, brick by brick.

“Penny tattled to Margaret about our affair. Remember? I informed you that she would.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Margaret confronted me, and I insisted I couldn’t marry Edward, that I loved you. So she threatened me.
She said that she had put Helen in a hospital. If I didn’t proceed, she would never bring Helen home, or reveal where she was.”

“I didn’t know that,” he grumbled.

“No, you didn’t.” She continued to jab her finger at him, emphasizing each important word. “Then, somehow, she lured Edward into my bedchamber in the middle of the night. Margaret conveniently walked in on us, with Penny as a witness, so Edward had to propose to avoid a scandal.”

So that’s how it had happened. He’d been curious. “It must have been difficult for you.”

“Difficult!” She was the one shouting now. “Let me explain the meaning of
difficult!
When I stumbled downstairs the next morning, the staff was making wedding preparations. The invitations had been penned and sent to the neighbors. I felt as if I’d been trampled by a wild stallion, and there was nothing I could do.” She shoved him and stalked away. “Don’t stand there with your sad eyes, chastising and berating me, and complaining about how you’ve been abused. For I declare to you that whatever indignity you suffered couldn’t possibly compare with what I’ve been through, and I’ve had all of the nonsense and drama I can handle!”

He chuckled, infuriating her even more. “You have, have you?”

“Yes, and I’m at my wit’s end. So ask me! And be quick about it, before I lose my temper!”

She was a sight, her golden hair streaming down, her blue eyes glowing with wrath. Garbed solely in her diaphanous pants, she was trembling with rage, her chin defiantly stuck out, and she looked like an ancient goddess, an Amazon warrior. If a lightning bolt had crackled forth to smite him, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Well?” she demanded.

Impatient, she tapped her toe and crossed her arms over her bosom, tantalizing him with glimpses of her nipples. Half-dressed and giving him what-for, she had him utterly flustered.

He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to fight. It disturbed him to learn how upset she’d been, to hear details of what she’d endured. She’d been in anguish, had been frightened and troubled, but she hadn’t sought him out.

Did she think he wouldn’t have helped her?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he queried.

“Because she said she’d kill Helen. And I couldn’t let her. Helen is all I have left of my parents and my brother.”

He had no doubt that Margaret had coerced her, or that she would have progressed to murder if thwarted. In his opinion, Margaret was insane, capable of any nefarious act, and if it had been up to him, she’d already be in a coach, and on her way to Bedlam. Luckily for her, it was Winnie’s choice, and not his own.

She began to cry. “I don’t care if we live in a hovel. I don’t care if we wear rags. I don’t care if we eat offal to survive. I just need to be with you.”

“Oh, Livvie.”

“My world has been turned upside down. I’ve lost almost everything that mattered to me. Don’t force me to go on alone. I can’t.”

He couldn’t remain detached, couldn’t judge or condemn her, couldn’t castigate her for carrying on as best she could. His animosity vanished like leaves in the wind.

“As if I could stay away.”

He opened his arms, and she rushed into them, and he hugged her with all his might, thrilled—as always—to discover how perfectly she fit. He kissed her hair, her cheeks.

“I know what you need,” she said.

“And what is that?”

“You need a home of your own. A family. Children to love.” She pulled away and assessed him. “Let me give them to you. Let me make you happy.”

Gazing down at her, he massaged her warm skin, inhaled her dear scent. He felt whole, complete. For the very first time. Every dream he’d ever had seemed as if it could come true.

Visions danced in his head, of a successful horse farm, with some of England’s finest animals. Of a cozy house, filled with boisterous, giggling children. Edward and Winnie would be doting grandparents, with a family of their own besides. Helen and Rebecca would be merry, vivacious cousins to both of their increasing broods.

And Livvie. Forever Livvie, welcoming him home after a long, hard day. To what more could a man aspire? What more did a man need?

Smiling, he felt as though he might burst with joy. “Yes, please,” he answered her. “Marry me. Make me happy.”

Love Lessons

CHERYL HOLT

A resolute spinster at twenty-five, Abigail Weston is nonetheless determined to see her cherished younger sister wed to a man of Quality. But Abigail’s lack of experience with the opposite sex means that she cannot allay her sister’s fears about the marriage bed—unless she takes bold steps to learn what the intimacy between a man and a woman entails. Yet the one man in London qualified to teach her awakens temptation Abigail never anticipated—to experience each whispered pleasure for herself...