“Nonsense.” To his surprise, Bea reached over and straightened his lapels. The way she had when they were children. Her expression open and warm, she said, “You are a good man, little brother. Now go win the hand of the woman you love.”
“Livy, dearest, if you don’t stop pacing, you’ll wear a trench in the rug,” Mama chided.
“What could be taking them so long?” Livy asked. “They’ve been in the study for half an hour.”
“They are probably coming to terms.”
“Or blows,” Livy muttered.
Mama patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit by me, dear.”
When Livy acquiesced, her mother looked her in the eyes.
“Where there is love, there is a way. That was one of your grandpapa’s favorite sayings,” Mama said softly. “Trust me, dear girl. Everything will be well.”
A moment later, Papa strode into the drawing room. Ben was behind him, lingering in the doorway. Papa looked first at Livy, then at Mama.
“You were right, Emma.” He sounded slightly stunned.
“Really, darling, one would think you would be used to it by now,” Mama said.
Livy went up to her father. “Papa…do Hadleigh and I have your blessing?”
“Is this truly what you want, poppet?” Papa’s face had never looked more serious. In a low voice, he said, “While Hadleigh is a fine chap, he is older than you—”
“I want to marry him,” Livy said with absolute conviction.
Her father exhaled slowly. “While I may have doubts, the one thing I have never questioned is that you are a girl who knows her own mind. And you have clearly decided on Hadleigh. You have my blessing, Livy. For what it is worth.”
“Oh, thank you, Papa! That means everything to me!”
She threw herself into her father’s arms, and he held her tightly.
“Be happy, poppet,” he murmured. “That is all I want for you.”
“I will be,” she promised. “As happy as you and Mama are.”
Releasing her, he cleared his throat.
“I believe I’m ready for tea.” He held his arm out to Mama. “Didn’t you say something special was on the menu, pet?”
“I made your favorite Scotch pie. I had a feeling you would need it.” Mama leaned up to kiss his jaw. “Well done, darling. You handled that magnificently.”
“Because of you.” Papa tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, saying in an undertone, “Thank God you prepared me. I might have had a fit of apoplexy otherwise.”
“We’ll be in the orangery,” Mama said cheerfully to Hadleigh as they passed by. “You and Livy may join us when you are ready.”
Her parents exited the room, their heads bent together.
Ben strode over to her, looking bemused.
“How did everything go?” Livy asked.
“It went better than I anticipated. Not only did your papa not call me out, but he also offered me some advice.”
“And that was?”
“A happy wife makes for a happy life.”
“That is exceedingly good counsel,” Livy said brightly.
“In that case…”
Ben went down on one knee. His eyes the warm blue of a summer night, he took out a box and opened the lid. Livy’s vision blurred at the sight of the ring: it was shaped like a delicate golden spider, its body a huge, faceted diamond.
It was a ring that only Ben would give her. A symbol of their love, which had changed over time, yet remained steadfast in its essence. A love between two souls meant to be together.
“My darling, determined Livy, who never gave up on me…will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she said through her clogged throat. “Yes, please.”
He rose, slipping the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.
“I love you.” The words left them both simultaneously.
They laughed. Then they kissed, touched by the wonder of two solitudes joined as one.
40
Ben carried his bride over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him.
“You’re mine,” he said with infinite satisfaction.
Livy smiled at him. “At long last.”
He couldn’t agree more. Although their six-week engagement was one of the shorter ones on record, it nevertheless felt like an eternity since he’d had Livy all to himself. The Strathavens had loosened the rules, allowing him a few private moments with his fiancée; this had resulted in several steamy interludes, including one at an arachnid exhibition. As sweet as those times had been, Ben had yearned for more than furtive snippets of time with his beloved.
Now he had his wish. Livy was his duchess. His.
Wonder expanded his chest…and his cock.
He set Livy down by his bed, marveling at her beauty. When she’d walked down the aisle of majestic St. Paul’s toward him, his breath had stuttered. She’d been a queen in her frothy white gown embellished with lace, her hair a shining coronet studded with pearls. She’d kept her jewelry simple: the crown he’d given her nestled in the hollow of her throat, the delicate spider ring upon her finger. She gazed up at him now as she had then, with adoration in her verdant eyes, reinforcing that he was the luckiest bastard alive.
And also the randiest.
Throughout the wedding luncheon hosted by her parents, Livy had flirted with him, teasing him with sultry looks and naughty caresses under the table. Now the minx was going to pay for her tricks. He took her soft, pink mouth in a demanding kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. Her enthusiasm was all the lovelier for its underpinning of feminine need.
Knowing the cause, he hid a private smile.
He murmured against her lips, “Have you been a good girl for me?”
“Yes.” Blushing, she added, “All week, like you instructed.”
The pout in her voice made him harder.
“Patience makes passion sweeter.” He drew a finger down the column of her neck, feeling her silken shiver in his balls. “And there’s no need to rush. We have all night.”
“I am not going to last all night,” she protested.
At the reversed text, he had to laugh. His bride knitted her brows, looking adorably confused. With her confident ways, he sometimes forgot how innocent she still was. It would be his pleasure to corrupt and cherish her for the rest of their lives.
“That is not something you need to worry about, sweeting,” he said. “Women don’t have to last. As we’ve proven on numerous occasions, you can find pleasure again and again. Whereas men need a recovery period in between rounds.”
She slid an ingenuous glance at the bulge in his trousers. “Even you?”
“Keep looking at me like that, and we shall soon find out.”
“Promise, sir?” She fluttered her lashes at him.
His duchess was becoming an accomplished tease. Since she only flirted with him, he didn’t mind. The sizzling sexual undertones made their banter even more fun.
“Turn around and hold onto the bedpost while I undress you, brat,” he said.
He didn’t miss the way she trembled at his strict command. She obediently wrapped her fingers around the dark post, reminding him of their other encounter in his bedchamber, one he’d spent many long nights fantasizing about. Now she was here, and he would never have to sleep without her again. The notion fired his heart and his loins.
He let her hair down first, relishing the luxuriant glide of her long locks between his fingers. Then he undressed her slowly, unwrapping her like the precious gift she was. He removed all her layers, except for her white silk stockings and dainty, blue ribbon garters. He liked the way they showed off his bride’s shapely legs and drew the eye to her pretty arse.
He slapped one of the creamy curves, enjoying the firm bounce of her flesh and her breathy gasp.
She twisted her head to look at him. “What was that for?”
The twinkling mischief in her eyes told him she knew exactly why she was being spanke
d.
“For making me hard during our reception.” He swatted her other cheek. “Did you think you could tease me, touch my cock in public without consequences?”
“No one saw,” she argued. “After all, I did it under the table.”
Her impudence earned her another smack. This time a needy moan escaped her. He spanked her again, knowing that the heat of her pinkening flesh was adding to her burn elsewhere. Goddamn, he could see the wetness smeared between her thighs; her pussy must be drenched.
His erection tested the limits of his trousers, but he was having too much fun to stop their little game.
“I had to stand to give the toast,” he said sternly. “If it hadn’t been for the breathing techniques I learned from Chen, I would have given our guests quite the show. Is that what you wanted? For the world to see how much your husband desires you?”
At the word “husband,” Livy gave him a dreamy smile. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”
Christ, she was a handful. And she was all his.
“Honesty is never bad, sweeting. I think you know that.”
He bent and kissed her nape. Her back arched as he planted kisses down the ladder of her spine, stopping at the crevice between her buttocks. He took her rosy cheeks in his hands, massaging them but not touching her where she wanted it most.
Clutching the post, she whimpered, “Please, Ben.”
“You know you have to ask for what you want, love. And ask nicely.”
“Please, sir…won’t you touch my pussy?”
He rewarded her sweet request. She shivered when his fingertip circled her pleated rosebud before moving down to her slit. As he’d suspected, she was plump and juicy. A part of him wanted to make her wait: to extend her submission, which was doubly sweet since it happened only in the bedchamber and only for him.
Another part of him couldn’t resist the need in his wife’s pleading eyes. When Livy looked at him like that, he would take down the moon and stars for her, give her anything she asked. Seeing that all she wanted was for him to make her come, one of his favorite pastimes, he could not deny her.
And, as he’d said, she didn’t suffer any limits in this arena. This would be the first of many releases for his duchess on their wedding night. It would be his husbandly pleasure to see to that.
“You may rub this wet little pussy against my hand,” he instructed.
Sighing, she rocked against him eagerly. While he diddled her, he used his other hand to play with her nipples. She was sensitive here, and he knew the exact moment to give those pretty pink tips a hard pinch. She cried out, clenching her thighs around his hand, bathing him in a gush of honey that made his mouth water.
He picked her up, tossing her onto his bed. When his haste made her bounce upon the mattress, she giggled. Those giggles melted into moans as he spread her thighs and dove in for a taste. Holy hell, she was delicious.
“Oh, heavens.” She wove her fingers into his hair, gasping, “Ben.”
He was too busy eating her cunny to respond. He savored her with long, swirling licks. As he teased her pearl with his tongue, he slid his middle finger into her sheath. The snug clasp made him shudder. He hadn’t put his prick inside her since the first time, and she felt even tighter than he remembered. He added another finger to the first, pumping into her while he feasted.
Whimpering, she came again, her rippling culmination testing his self-control. As she lay with her rounded breasts heaving, he stripped off his clothes. He grasped his bobbing erection, so aroused that even his own touch caused a drop of seed to leak from his tip.
Frigging his cock slowly, he bent a finger at his duchess.
“Come here,” he commanded.
She came to the edge of the bed, and he adored the hunger in her eyes. She’d spent twice already, yet she was ready for more.
“I’m going to put my cock in you soon,” he said. “Before I do, I want you to make it wet for me. With your mouth.”
“With pleasure, sir,” she said with a flirty grin.
If only she were this biddable in everyday life.
“On your stomach, then.”
She obeyed, putting her mouth on level with his cock.
He brought the seeping crown to her lips. “Open for me.”
She did, and he pushed inside. Devil and damn.
The moist heat of her mouth swept fire up his spine. During their engagement, they’d practiced this skill; Livy had become somewhat of an expert. Fisting the satiny streamers of her hair, he watched his thick shaft disappear between her lips, stretching that delicate entryway. Undeterred by his size, she took him into her deepest recesses, her throat muscles squeezing a groan from him. As he withdrew, she swirled her tongue along a knee-weakening groove. Chest heaving, he pulled out before he unmanned himself.
She peered up at him through her lashes. “Are you wet enough, sir?”
In answer, he rolled her onto her back and crawled atop her. Parting her sleek thighs, he notched himself to her opening and drove home. They both sighed at the moment of joining. For Ben, the incredible pleasure of being inside his wife was enhanced by something he’d only felt with her: a sense of rightness. From the moment he’d saved her life, she had saved his. And destiny had only strengthened their unique bond by forging it in the hottest fires of love.
“I love you, Livy,” he said hoarsely. “Until my last breath and beyond.”
“I love you, Ben,” she whispered back. “Always and forever.”
Gazing into his beloved’s eyes, he began to move in a rhythm that was ageless yet full of discovery. With Livy, everything was new and special. Urged on by her panting cries, he plowed her faster, deeper, his control unraveling. His stones smacked her dewy folds as he hilted himself in her snug sheath, over and again, needing to own her as fully as she owned him.
When Livy went over the edge again, he went with her. Pressure shot up his shaft, pleasure exploding from him in endless bursts. Groaning, he emptied himself into his wife’s generous keeping, and she took it all, giving him pure bliss in return.
He collapsed beside her, gathering her close. Lying skin to skin with Livy, their hearts beating in unison, he knew he’d found his absolution. She had given him peace…given him everything. And what did he have to give her in return?
He gazed into her eyes. “Livy, is there anything you would like?”
She smiled. “You already gave me a wedding present. The wedding trip to Italy, remember?”
He couldn’t wait to travel with her. To have adventures with his duchess. Which meant the present was for him as much as for her.
“I would like to give you another gift,” he insisted. “Something just for you.”
“You’ve supported my work with the Angels. What is that, if not a gift?”
With Charlie’s blessing, he had assisted the Angels on a few missions. He had enjoyed working with Livy and felt proud of her prowess.
“Supporting your calling isn’t a gift,” he said dismissively. “That is just common sense.”
“You are the best of husbands.” She beamed at him. “Come to think of it, there is something I would like.”
“Name it, and it’s yours.”
“It’s not a thing. More like a certain, um, variation I’ve been curious about…”
Blushing, she whispered her wish into his ear.
They each made further discoveries that eve. Livy learned that she did indeed like the position in question and moaned her approval into the pillow...twice. For his part, Ben found that when he was with his new duchess, recovery periods were, in fact, unnecessary.
A fortnight later, Livy and the other Angels accompanied Pippa to the opening night of the Royal Academy exhibition. Although she was in mourning, Pippa had been adamant that she wanted to see Longmere’s entry in the show, and Livy wanted to support her friend. Ben had escorted the group and now stood at a distance, examining a landscape.
Livy knew he wasn’t particularly interested in the art. He was g
iving her and her friends space to talk, and she adored his thoughtfulness. Adored everything about her new husband, in truth.
Pippa led the way over to the painting. “Here it is.”
Longmere’s piece had been hung at eye level, a place of honor on the crowded wall, yet it would have stood out even in an obscure position. Frankly, Livy was astonished by the painting: its quality surpassed that of his others by leaps and bounds. The glowing oils portrayed a woman, modeled after CeCe, staring out a window. The mix of sensuality and sadness in the lady’s eyes captivated the viewer. One wondered what she was thinking as she looked into the beyond.
“How lovely,” Fiona breathed.
Other visitors stopped to gaze at the painting, their murmurs appreciative.
“It is a fitting memorial to the earl,” Glory said sincerely.
“Longmere would have been pleased,” Pippa said in quiet tones. “All he wanted was recognition for his work. That is the irony of life, I suppose: now that he has his greatest desire, he cannot enjoy it.”
Privately, Livy thought that Longmere had been a bigger fool than she realized if his wife had not been his greatest desire.
She touched Pippa’s dark sleeve. “How are you faring, dear?”
“Some days are better than others.” Pippa’s blue eyes darkened with grief…and some other emotion that Livy couldn’t quite name. “I will get through this.”
“I know you will,” Livy said. “Perhaps some distraction will help?”
“Charlie said the same thing,” Pippa replied.
Livy lifted her brows. “You have been talking to Charlie?”
“Yes, and she proposed a rather intriguing diversion.” The spark that lit Pippa’s eyes banished some of the shadows. “I may just take her up on it.”
Epilogue
Strathmore Castle, Scotland
A few months later
As Livy surfaced from sleep, she drowsily reached for Ben. Instead of her husband, she found a folded note on his side of the bed; it was labelled “A Riddle for Livy.” Yawning, she sat up and read it.
Olivia and the Masked Duke Page 31