“You have not mentioned Lord Ware,” she said. “Are you worried he will change his mind and argue against the bill?”
He returned to sit beside her. “No, you have seen to that quite efficiently.”
“What about Lord Dumfries? Do you believe he will eventually side with Lord Ware and support the bill?” she asked.
He let out a burst of air. “Never. He will not support the bill simply because he knows I desire for it to pass. Dumfries led the pack of bullies when I was at Eton. He was relentless back then, and our animosity toward each other has not faded. I’ll never trust the man.”
She didn’t blame him. His childhood experiences had shaped the man, not his stammering.
The casement was cracked open, and a refreshing breeze blew in through the open window. A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead, and without thought, she reached out and brushed it aside. “You feel a need to help the downtrodden, and that’s why the Soldiers Bill means a lot to you.”
“I suppose I do.”
“You needn’t worry,” she said. “I’m certain you can handle Lord Dumfries just as you can outmaneuver any political opponent.”
He lowered his gaze to her mouth. “I find your confidence in me arousing. Does that shock you?”
A quiver surged through her veins, and she was aware of the harsh, uneven rhythm of her breathing. Her mind relived the velvet warmth of his kiss, the hardness of his body pressed against her softness.
“I find your intelligence arousing. Does that shock you?” she asked.
She recognized the ardor in his gaze. His nearness kindled feelings of fire, and her heart fluttered wildly in her breast. She sensed that if she inched forward, he would meet her the rest of the way.
She watched transfixed as his mouth lowered, and his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was slow and thoughtful, but when she opened to him and greedily met his tongue with her own, he pulled her to him and kissed her with a hunger that left no doubt in her mind that he desired her. She tasted the rich wine on his tongue, and it was as intoxicating as the man.
He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’ve tried to forget our one night together. God knows I’ve tried, but every time I lie down at night, I envision you gloriously naked, and I cannot forget the feel of you, the taste of you. Your throaty sighs of pleasure fill my senses. I pace my bedchamber and end up at the door connecting our rooms and long to break it down until there are no barriers between us.”
She froze, stunned by his admission and the intensity of his dark eyes. The conflict within him was more than just a physical need, but one for closeness and connection after years of emotional isolation. It was why he’d posed as a head groom rather than join his own house party, why he worked alone in his study night after night, and why he’d never joined her for a simple meal. She held still, waiting breathlessly, a longing in her heart.
Her chest tightened, and her own longing inflamed. He lowered his head, his lips grazing her ear. “When you came here tonight asking to help me, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”
He nipped her earlobe then kissed a path down her neck, her shoulders. Her legs quivered, and she grew warm. She thought that if she wasn’t sitting beside him, she’d simply slip to the floor and melt into the carpet. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, breathed in his familiar scent, and held him close.
He lowered his head, his hot breath brushing against her bodice. She leaned closer in invitation, a gasp escaping her lips. The scrape of a day’s worth of stubble on his chin only served to enhance her excitement. She wanted her breasts bared to his glorious mouth and hands. Thankfully, he understood the extent of her need.
“I want you, wife. Tell me you want the same.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. “Oh, yes.”
“Stand, love.”
She obeyed, and he made swift work of the buttons and hooks of her gown then her corset and shift until she was left only in her silk stockings and lace garters. His eyes darkened as his gaze licked over her skin.
Wasting no time, he reached for his shirt, lifted it over his head, and tossed it aside. His boots followed, then he went for the placket of his trousers. Breathing heavily through parted lips, she watched. He removed his trousers, and his cock sprang free, long and thick.
As she stared at the size and length, it moved, growing harder. It was nothing like she’d imagined. Rather than be frightened, her curious and adventurous nature took hold. She wanted to caress and explore.
He lowered her to the cushions of the settee. She tried to touch him, and he grasped one wrist, then the other, and pinned them above her head. His eyes feasted on her naked breasts.
“Look at you. A tempting Venus.”
“So are you. Let me touch you.”
“Not yet.”
He took a pert nipple in his mouth, hot and hungry. Searing sensations flooded her, all the way to her womb. She arched toward him, whimpering and moving her legs restlessly beneath him. She tugged on his hold above her head.
He released her wrists, and she stroked her hands across his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, then lower still. Her fingers grazed his hardness.
He hissed in a breath. “Olivia.”
Encouraged, she held his shaft in her hand, memorized the feel of him. He was a contradiction—the length was hard as iron, but the tip was velvet soft. She ran a finger around the head. His groan thrilled and encouraged her. He’d tasted her; why couldn’t she do the same?
Pushing him aside, she sank to her knees before him on the plush Oriental carpet then touched the tip of her tongue to the tip.
He jerked. “My God.” He watched her with hooded eyes.
She licked down the shaft, then up, then used her hands and lips to take him fully into her mouth. She had no experience, and she worried that she was doing it wrong. But when his fingers tightened in her hair and he groaned, she renewed her efforts.
His urgent response and harsh breathing made her grow wet between her thighs. Who would have thought giving pleasure would heighten her own need? Fueled by his response, she continued until he grasped her shoulders.
“Stop. Or I’ll spill.” He gazed down at her, the ferocity in his eyes stark. “I want you, Olivia. All of you.”
Her heart pounded. She knew what he meant, that he was willing to risk everything, all his fears, to be with her.
Still, she had to ask. “What about children?”
“There are ways.”
He lay her down on the settee. He was too tall to lie down, but he didn’t hesitate. Bracing one foot on the floor and the other knee on the cushions, he loomed above her. His expression was dominant and possessive, like a predator stalking its pray, and she experienced a moment of unease. But then he placed a plush cushion beneath her head and another beneath her buttocks, gave her a lingering kiss, and her misgivings left.
The head of his hardness traced across her slick bud. She recalled the wondrous release he could give her, and she arched against him. He adjusted the pillow beneath her, and his hardness rubbed that sensitive point with just the right pressure, and she moaned. Then he pressed the tip of his rock-hard shaft against the opening of her body.
Bracing himself on his elbows, he inched inside her. “I want you to feel pleasure the first time.”
Another inch. His expression was tense, and she marveled at his restraint.
Another inch. His biceps bunched, and she was enthralled by his strength. Then he fully thrust inside her, and she gasped from the sudden fullness.
He held still. “Are you all right?”
Sweat beaded on his brow. She drew a breath then released it. She wiggled beneath him.
He groaned. “Hold still, love.”
How could she? He pulled out slowly, and she thought he was to leave her, then he eased back inside. Each thrust touched that secret place, and she felt passion rising in her like the hottest fire. She surrendered to the aching response deep within her. Instinct took over, and she mo
ved with him. Soon, she met each of his thrusts with her own, arching her back and clutching his shoulders.
“Wrap your legs around me.” His voice was hoarse.
She did, and the sensations built. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his ferocious gaze taking in every tremor, every gasp. This was even greater, more emotional, than before.
She shuddered as their eyes locked and their breathing came in unison. For her, this was much more than the connection of their bodies, but a tug on her soul that would bind her to him. He was in her blood, and there was no turning back now. Her feelings for him were too strong.
He jerked inside her, and she rose to meet him with an uncontrolled passion, a moan slipping through her lips. She raked her nails down his back to grip his buttocks, her entire body straining. He lowered his head to capture her scream as she reached a peak, and her body vibrated over and over with ecstasy.
He thrust twice more, and she heard his rough groan as he pulled from her body, and she felt a hot lash across her stomach and breasts.
Their ragged breathing filled the room, and she buried her face against his throat. “Now I know what the ladies whisper about at the Raven Club. Is it always like this?”
“No. This was better, much better. Miraculous.”
Miraculous. It was just a beginning to describe what they’d shared and how she felt. Her heart squeezed tight as she acknowledged her undeniable feelings.
She loved him.
Her heart had been lost to him when he’d played hoops with the children in the gardens, had taken her for a ride in the park and allowed her to ride Atlas, and when he’d shared his hopes and dreams for the Soldiers Bill. Everything had irrevocably changed for her, and she loved him…
Would he feel the same for her one day?
He left her briefly to go to his discarded coat and return with a handkerchief. He gently cleaned her of the evidence of their lovemaking then joined her on the settee and cradled her in his arms. Her pulse leaped at the heart-rending tenderness of his gaze.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He looked at her incredulously. “You thank me? You gave me a precious gift, my lady. I’ll never forget what took place here tonight.”
Did he intend for it to be a one-time event? She hoped not. Now that she knew what pleasure could be found in his arms, she’d never stop wanting him. As for her other feelings, she bit her tongue rather than tell him she’d gifted him not only her virginity, but her heart.
…
Tristan held Olivia in arms, his heart rate slowing.
Olivia had shocked him when she’d pushed him aside to sink to the carpet at his knees. And when she’d taken him in her mouth… Heaven help him, he’d go to his grave reliving the pleasure of her hot, wet mouth on his cock. She was fearless and exuberant in bed, just as she was in everything.
How could any red-blooded male resist her?
He’d withdrawn to prevent pregnancy, but it had taken superhuman effort. He’d wanted nothing more than to thrust, balls deep, and come inside her.
She sighed and slipped a thigh between his. Her hair was a golden cloud, and her strawberry-tipped nipples peeked through the strands. He felt himself grow hard again. He used every trick he knew to control his lust. He balanced a row of numbers in one of his estate’s ledgers, thought of the most mundane political arguments, eased his breathing like he was preparing to speak publicly.
She’d been a virgin, not a common doxy. He’d taken her on a settee in his study, not a soft bed like she’d deserved. She’d be sore, and no matter how badly he wanted her, he couldn’t take her again tonight.
Her lips grazed his throat, and he clenched his jaw. His fingers trailed down her arm, the feminine curve of her hip. He may be resolved not to make love to her again, but he didn’t have the strength not to caress her smooth skin. What was he going to do with her?
Selfish bastard. You know exactly what you want to do to her.
She’d helped him refine his political arguments tonight, but he could never be what she truly wanted, what she needed.
That’s because you are a coward.
Perhaps he was. But he could allow nothing to change his future course of action. The fact that he’d needed a man of Higgins’s talents to help him do what others took for granted—to simply speak in public—enforced his position that he dare not father a child. Higgins had been honest and had admitted he’d treated children of stuttering fathers and that there was a strong likelihood any child Tristan fathered would have the same condition.
How could he put an innocent at risk?
His lips grazed Olivia’s one last time, then he gathered his resolve. “I shall escort you to your room.”
She lifted her head, her mouth curving in a sensuous smile. “I’d rather stay here with you for the rest of the evening.”
His cock jerked in approval, but by sheer force of will, he tamped down his lust. “You deserve a soft bed.”
A shadow crossed her lovely features, and he felt like a different type of blackguard—this time for refusing her affections and causing her distress. If she misinterpreted his request to see her to her room as rejection, he did not correct her. A different excuse came to mind, one she should understand. “I must focus on the bill.”
She lowered her lashes, but not before he noticed the flash of hurt in the depths of the green pools. “Help me dress,” she said. “I can find my own way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You are looking lovely, my dear. Can I assume it is my grandson who has added that blush to your cheeks?” Antonia said as she joined Olivia in the terrace for afternoon tea.
Uncomfortable to meet the dowager’s knowing gaze, Olivia busied herself with the tea things. “Things have improved between us, but we still have our differences.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he still needs time,” Olivia said.
“Ah, you’ve had a bit of fun in the bedchamber at last.”
Olivia set down the teapot. “Antonia!”
The dowager waved a bejeweled hand. “Posh! I was young and married once. I’m not priggish.”
“We have, but he’s focused on his work in the House of Lords. Mr. Higgins comes to Keswick Hall four times a week to meet with Tristan, and we’ve practiced in his study. It’s been three weeks already.”
Three long weeks. Antonia knew about Horace Higgins and his meetings with the duke. With hard work and time, Tristan had mastered specific techniques, and Higgins was pleased with his progress.
Although Olivia helped Tristan with his “lessons,” she didn’t mention that they’d only made love once. Tristan appeared entirely focused with his upcoming speech in the House of Lords. Each day, she grew more in love with her husband and was frightened by her strong feelings. She longed to be with him, to experience his fullness inside her once more, but she also understood he needed time. Her husband was a complex man, and she hoped that once he delivered his speech in a month’s time, his unfounded fears would abate. She’d wait. But she wouldn’t wait forever and intended to confront him soon afterwards.
“I do hope Tristan comes to his senses regarding you. Meanwhile, I’m leaving for Rosehill.”
Olivia lowered her teacup. “So soon?”
“I’m old, my dear. I’ve visited my friends and accomplished all I’ve set out to do in town. Now that I know you and Tristan have come to some sort of agreement, I am confident all will fall into place.”
Olivia wasn’t as confident, but she held her tongue. “I shall miss you.”
“I’m not far away. Now, listen carefully. If my grandson does not come to fully appreciate you, then you may come to me at Rosehill at any time.” She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “From what I’ve observed, he won’t be far behind.”
Olivia awoke early and rang for her maid and dressed. She had a busy day planned, shopping on Bond Street for new bonnets with her sister, and Ellie would arrive soon.
On her way to the
breakfast room, the smell of fried bacon made her stomach roil. She halted outside the door then sprinted back up the stairs to her room just in time to retch in the chamber pot. She collapsed on the bed, a sheen of cold sweat on her brow.
She shivered. Was she ill?
Another wave of nausea struck, and she vomited until her stomach painfully spasmed and there was nothing left but bile. She lay face up on the bed, utterly miserable, until a low knock on her door sounded.
“Olivia?”
Her sister’s voice. “Ellie. Come in.”
Ellie stood in the room, her blue eyes assessing the scene. “You’re ill.” She immediately rang for the maid, and the chamber pot was taken away to be replaced with another.
“I don’t feel ill,” Olivia said. “I was fine until I smelled the bacon.”
Ellie approached the bedside and touched her forehead. “You are not warm.” The concern in her sister’s eyes was replaced with understanding. “You are with child.”
Olivia stared at her. “I don’t think—”
Ellie cut her off with a knowing look. “When was your last menses?”
Olivia’s mind spun to calculate the days. They’d made love a week after she’d last bled. “I’m past due.”
Oh God.
“You are with child.”
Her voice broke miserably. “But the duke did not…that is…he did not finish inside me.”
“It is not impossible,” Ellie said. “I’ve known other ladies who have conceived even though men had withdrawn.”
Olivia buried her face in her hands. The one time he’d made love to her on the settee, and taken measures not to conceive, she had still become pregnant? It seemed horribly unlucky.
“Congratulations, sister.” At Olivia’s silence, Ellie continued. “I’m happy to know that things have improved in your marriage.”
Olivia rubbed her brow. “Yes, but we haven’t discussed this lately, haven’t talked about his concerns about starting a family. I need time to think.”
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