Led Astray by a Rake (25 page)

A
bbot shivered as he climbed into bed beside Estelle, drawing her soft, warm body against his with a happy sigh.

“I thought they’d never retire,” he said, as Estelle lifted her face for a kiss. “The dowager Lady Lacey staying for dinner and not leaving until near eleven o’clock. Unheard of. And then Lord Lacey insisting I escort her home.”

Estelle giggled. “You are indispensable, my love.”

Abbot secretly agreed.

“I’m so glad everything has worked out for the best. I would have been so miserable without you. On the journey home I was blaming myself, Abbot, for being so selfish as to want to marry you and be with you, and encouraging Olivia in her wild ways. But now…I think I did a good thing.”

“Dear Estelle, you may think you are to blame but I doubt Lady Lacey needed any encouragement from anyone. As I’ve said a number of times already, she is a most determined young lady.”

“Do you think they’ll argue like that again?”
Estelle asked in a worried voice. “Will we be parted again, Abbot?”

Abbot considered her question. “It is possible, although not likely. But we are talking about the Lacey family, and I have learned not to make any predictions where they are concerned.”

“Well, I’ve a prediction for you, Abbot,” Estelle said, grimacing in pain as she took his hand and placed it against her swollen belly. “This will be a very unruly baby.”

“Then, my dear,” Abbot said with a smile, “he, or she, must take after you.”

Nic was brushing his wife’s hair. She sat at her dressing table, naked apart from her silk robe, while he stood behind her, drawing the brush slowly through her long, fair locks. The fire crackled behind them, and the only other light was from a candelabra.

“Do you remember when I told you I stopped meeting you at the stepping stones because I was bored?” Nic murmured.

“I remember.”

“I wasn’t bored.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

He laughed.

Olivia arched her neck, as Nic drew the brush through her hair again, intent on the gleam of her golden hair. She watched him in the looking glass, his trousers low on his slim hips, his naked chest gleaming behind her, the muscles in his shoulders and arms moving beneath his skin.

The telling of secrets had brought them closer, and Olivia knew she would never doubt him again. She would have to speak to her parents, but that was a separate issue. For now she and Nic were at perfect peace with each other.

He set down the brush and lifted her hair in his hands, letting it fall through his fingers. His eyes in the mirror met hers, narrowed and gleaming. Her face was flushed, and she was finding it difficult to breathe. He slid one hand down inside her robe and cupped her breast, caressing her soft flesh, circling her nipple with his finger until it went hard.

Nic opened her robe, tugging it over her shoulders, so that she was naked before the mirror. He began to fondle her again, watching her face reflected in the glass. Seeing him doing something so intimate to her, Olivia discovered, increased her desire. Her head fell back, her hair streaming over her shoulders, and her throat arched. He bent his head and began to kiss her warm skin, working his way down to her breasts, licking at her lush curves.

It was too much. Olivia groaned and turned in his arms, just as he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Nic pushed down his trousers, stripping, as he climbed onto the mattress beside her, pressing his naked body to hers, so that it seemed that every inch of them was joined.

Olivia wound her arms about his neck, kissing his lips, enjoying the wondrous sensation of being with the man she loved. When he slid inside her,
he moved slowly, taking his time, and his face was solemn.

He’s claiming me
, she thought.
He’s making certain that I know I’m his, just as he is mine.

Passion rose within her and she clung to him, moving with him, caught up in the perfect moment. And then it was over.

But as Olivia held him, her body trembling from the aftershocks, listening to the heavy beating of his heart, she knew that wasn’t true.

It would never be over between them.

Their story was just beginning.

S
ARA
B
ENNETT
has always had an interest in history, and to survive a series of mind-numbing jobs she turned to writing historical romance. She lives in an old house with her husband and two children in the state of Victoria, Australia, where she tries to keep the house and garden tidy, but rarely succeeds—she’d rather be writing or reading.

You can write to her at
www.sara-bennett.com
(don’t forget the hyphen!) or Publicity Department, Avon Books, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022-5299.

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