Beth bent her legs and pressed her feet to the mattress, holding Oliver’s hips firmly between her knees. His mouth claimed hers urgently. Their tongues tangled as her desire for more rose. He shifted suddenly and hooked her legs about his body, falling against her as if he’d done so all their lives. The rub of his hot flesh against the inside of her thighs did terrible things to her patience. She clawed at Oliver’s back, digging her fingers into his skin as he rubbed against her. But it wasn’t close enough. She wanted him inside her and she whispered her demand into his ear.
The next moment, the head of Oliver’s erection pressed against her opening. Her back arched as he possessed her in one slow thrust. His mouth descended on her throat and he kissed and nipped hungrily until they were joined completely. Beth burned as he held still inside her. She waited for him to withdraw and plunge again. Despite his earlier urgency, he waited as if he too was savoring the moment she’d wanted all her life.
Yet if he didn’t move soon, she’d have to. There was a greater urgency to their coming together than she’d ever experienced. It was as if her whole life had been empty until this brief moment in his arms. Perhaps it stemmed from her reckless love for him. Beth wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on. What a fool she was to believe her emotions should be shut away at a time like this. She’d never stopped loving Oliver for one single moment since she’d fallen for him all those years ago.
Beth forced herself to find some control over her feelings and loosened her grip, half afraid she’d blurt out the state of her heart or beg him never to leave her. As with everything, Oliver could not be rushed unless he wanted to be, but eventually his hips retreated and thrust against her in a slow dance that took her breath away.
He leaned up on his hands and stared down at her.
On a usual day, Oliver’s silent scrutiny disturbed her. But tonight, knowing he was making love to her at the same time, provided a much more satisfactory reaction. A tight ache formed where they joined. A need demanding to be fulfilled. Oliver caught her right breast in his hand and gently cupped it. “As I suspected. Perfect,” he murmured, his voice so deep and warm that her heart skipped a beat.
Beth tightened her legs about his waist, caught his head between her hands, and smiled. He might not make conversation well but he made love so much better and said exactly what she needed to hear most. She tugged until he lowered and pressed his lips to hers. Beth wrapped herself tightly around him, little caring if her behavior was too needy. She wanted him to touch her everywhere.
Oliver moaned and the pace of his thrusts increased. His grip tightened until they were wrapped as tightly together as was possible and still be able to move. Beth ran her hand up and down his damp back, threaded her fingers in his hair, and kissed any part of him she could reach. Just a little harder, deeper, a little faster to ease the unbearable ache. Oliver bucked against her, pressing deeper with each thrust until she cried out and shuddered too quickly. Before she was ready to let him go, Oliver fought to be free of her embrace and he turned aside, spilling his seed on the mattress with a deep, shattering groan.
Disturbed by being presented with his back, Beth laid her hands on him and traced his spine to his waist. Oliver rolled back a touch and trapped her hands beneath him, his breath coming in a harsh, desperate rush. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Beth tugged her hands free and slid one over his chest, brushing his nipples in her need to remain connected, to retain their intimacy. When Oliver remained where he’d fallen, Beth shifted closer and cautiously placed her arm around him. He picked up her hand and kissed her palm before pressing it back to his chest.
A small sigh left Beth as she snuggled against him. He’d surprised her. He was a passionate man, but only in private. It was a pity she couldn’t have more than this. The thought saddened her momentarily but she was resolved. Just once. Just one brief moment in his arms to last her a lifetime.
She relaxed, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm and her own lassitude from his intense lovemaking.
“Marry me,” he said suddenly.
Although her heart raced at his surprising proposal, she knew better than to accept at a time like this. He’d given her great pleasure and proved what she’d hoped for all along. She wouldn’t marry someone who couldn’t love her. She hadn’t loved her husband and regret still tormented her. She kissed Oliver’s shoulder as sadness filled her. “Absolutely not; there’s no need.”
A deep rumbling sigh left him and for a moment she wondered if he’d argue his case. When he didn’t, she settled again, content with this one brief moment of intimacy with the man she’d always loved. His heart returned to a steady rhythm, his breathing settled quickly. The moment she’d longed for all her life was perfect. She closed her eyes, at peace with her life at long last.
“Don’t fall sleep, Elizabeth,” he warned a moment later.
Beth pressed one last lingering kiss to his skin, knowing that their time was over too soon. “I won’t. I must leave.”
“Not yet though.” He wriggled free of her embrace and rolled her onto her back. The smile he bestowed took her breath away. “We’ve only just begun.”
Given the urgency of the kiss that followed, Beth concluded Oliver might not be finished with her for some time yet.
Chapter Seventeen
OLIVER HAD TRIED not to think about last night seventeen times before he gave up and returned to his memories of Elizabeth’s glorious body held firmly against his. His wicked thoughts and plans for further encounters were so much more interesting than the cold hard facts in his book about Italy or his plans to leave Romsey. Not that he’d let on exactly when he would go. The less his family knew, the better. They couldn’t punish his ears with their pleas or wound his eyes with their stricken expressions. Without their disapproval dogging his every moment, he could consider how to lure Elizabeth in his arms once more and hear her sob his name as passion claimed her.
And if he didn’t think about leaving, he wouldn’t be considering what life might be like if he stayed.
He closed the book and tossed it with the other discarded tomes, sure he was on the verge of making an ass of himself. Elizabeth had been very clear that she’d come to him for one night and that was all he could reasonably expect. Reason, however, had disappeared with the first sight of her beautiful body. He longed to locate her and do something incredibly rash and irrevocable right now.
“What has you so out of sorts?” Leopold grumbled, paper rustling between his hands as he turned the pages. “You’ve not stopped huffing since I found you here.”
He focused on his brother. He couldn’t possibly tell him the truth—Elizabeth would not like that, so he scratched around in his mind for a likely excuse he could utter that would prevent further discussion. “A calculation about the length of my trip.”
As hoped, Leopold rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his paper.
But Oliver wasn’t so easily appeased. Several nights, if he could persuade Elizabeth of the necessity, might not be long enough to satisfy his hunger for her kisses and her perfect body. He’d come undone, all his carefully considered opinions that passion was something he could live without were under threat.
He stood and left the room without a word to Leopold, wandering aimlessly into the drawing room to cool his ardor. He had never believed he needed intimate relations to be content with his life. The path of an adventurer was one of determination and purpose. Surely one night with Elizabeth had been enough to last a lifetime.
But then he heard Elizabeth’s voice ahead somewhere and his body hardened all over again as lust gripped him. He followed the sound of her voice until he reached the long hall. She stood outside a chamber, arm moving as she described what she wanted done. Wedding plans for the duchess by the sounds of it. Given her enthusiasm for the subject, she’d likely be busy for hours.
He approached slowly, admiring the body snugly hidden beneath a demure dark wool gown. She faced him and her eyes wid
ened, her breath catching in surprise. Desire sparked in her eyes and then quickly vanished, hidden by wariness and modesty. She dipped into a curtsy. “Good morning, sir.”
He eased closer, eyes dropping to the neckline of her disappointingly modest gown and then lifting to her soft lips. His pulse raced anew. One night had not been sufficient to banish his need.
Eamon Murphy’s head poked through the doorway and into the hall, immediately halting Oliver’s plans to touch and kiss Elizabeth. He schooled his features to show only curiosity and expressed his question to his oldest friend. “What do you do here?”
Eamon lips quirked. “Candelabras. We’re on the hunt for several large ones, gold, that her grace remembers from years ago.”
“The east wing attic has two, the closet attached to the ballroom has three, and there are more elsewhere should they be required,” Oliver supplied quickly, keen to send Eamon off on an errand that would take some time.
Beth and Murphy’s brows creased in unison. “There’s a closet off the ballroom?” They said it at once and then suddenly looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Confused by their sudden camaraderie, a closeness he had not detected earlier, Oliver nodded slowly. He held his hand out to Elizabeth. “I can show you the ballroom closet if you like.”
Instead of taking his outstretched hand, Beth faced Eamon. “Get the ones in the east wing attic and have them polished properly. I’ll see what else this closet Oliver mentioned contains and if it could be of any use. We haven’t much time.”
When Eamon hurried off, Beth looked at him expectantly, one brow rising. “This place needs a map drawn and a proper accounting taken of its possessions. The things we have stumbled across today in the strangest places boggles the mind. Thank you for your offer of assistance.” She smiled suddenly and his whole body tightened in anticipation of any small moment he could share with her.
“My pleasure,” he said, thinking of her body flush and warm against his last night and her hands tugging at his hair, urging him on. “This way.”
He briefly touched her back and then let his hand drop away. “Why are you scouring the abbey in search of candelabras? I thought you were no longer housekeeper.”
“The duchess has graciously allowed me to render what help I can.” She smiled up at him. “I don’t mind. Every woman enjoys weddings.”
“Ah,” he murmured as he opened a door and allowed her to pass before him. But her comment brought a question to his mind. Had she enjoyed her own wedding to Turner? Had Turner been a good husband and lover? When he glanced at her again, he decided he’d rather not know. If she missed Turner then he would be viewed as a paltry replacement and Oliver rarely liked to be second in anything.
He led her deeper into the house. Listening to the soft tap of her slippers beside him brought a smile to his lips. He almost had her alone, but rather than act intimately in the hall where anyone might see, he elected to wait until they reached the ballroom before he touched her again. The closet off the ballroom was private, secluded from casual observation. He could kiss her there and no one would ever know.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty ballroom, their shadows danced across the floor to the beat their feet tapped out. He looked ahead and caught their reflection in the mirrored wall ahead. His steps slowed. Beside Elizabeth, he appeared ancient and his chest tightened. He’d lost his youth because of the duke’s treachery, but he’d lost the path to Elizabeth as his wife all by himself. For the first time ever, he doubted the life he’d chosen for himself. He’d spent all morning wishing to be alone with Elizabeth and it was unlike him to be so obsessed by lust.
His enthusiasm for seduction waned. What had he been thinking yesterday? Making love to Elizabeth, becoming involved in her concerns, was not the way to live an independent life. She continued ahead and the gap that grew between them in the reflection gave him pain. What had changed in him since yesterday?
Elizabeth swung around to see what kept him. “Oliver?”
“Forgive me,” he murmured as he hurried to open a discreet panel set in the wall and revealed the closet, shaking off the disconcerting confusion gripping him.
Beth hurried inside the six-foot-square room, smiling happily at the contents surrounding her. Candelabras, silver platters, and crystal wineglasses filled every conceivable space. She clutched his arm and bounced on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I never would have found this. I doubt anyone here now even knows this room exists. The contents of this room fill several other needs on my list, as well. Thank you.”
He smiled down at her, wondering why her joy in such a discovery moved him. “There are many such places concealed about the abbey.”
“Like the Duke’s Sanctuary?”
Her question ended his pleasure in the day. He crossed his arms over his chest. “The sanctuary is gone.”
Her brow rose as she stepped closer, hands sliding over his folded arms in a soft, beguiling caress. “It’s not like you to give up so easily.”
Oliver’s heart raced. Had George said something about the model, after all? If so, he was deeply disappointed in the boy. He’d have to answer Elizabeth carefully lest she become even more interested in the subject. It was better that she knew nothing and if she persisted with the topic, he’d distract her until she forgot all about the treasure hidden beneath their feet. “There’s nothing to be found.”
Her smile fell away. “I suppose there is a good reason you’ve not disclosed the location for the second entrance.”
Her observation surprised him even as he captured her hips and dragged her flush against him, marveling in the pleasure of being able to do so. Yet his unease remained. “What makes you think there is another way down?”
“In this place?” Elizabeth laughed, lifting her hand to gesture at the room around them. “If there wasn’t one I’d be highly surprised. I can probably guess why you chose to say nothing. There’s been enough trouble in the past without confiding in someone who isn’t a Randall. Keep your secrets, Oliver. I’m not the one you should share them with, anyway.”
She left his arms and faced the shelves behind her, rummaging through a heap of tarnished silverware. Damn but she was a clever woman. She knew him, saw through his lies, faster than he’d anticipated. He moved behind her and slid his arms about her waist, pulling her against him tightly.
A soft sigh left her mouth as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Oliver inhaled deeply of her scent and slid his hands over her gown to cup her breasts, wishing he could feel her nipples hardening. But she was properly dressed; corset and layers of warm wool covered her body. He moved his hand down to her hips and then lower still, splaying them over her upper thighs, delighting when her breath hitched at his caress. He slowly inched her gown higher. What he wanted was her bare skin and warmth against his fingers.
“Ollie, the door,” she whispered suddenly.
Oliver quickly took care of their privacy and spun Elizabeth so she could lean against the wall. He fell to his knees, raised her skirts again, skimmed the stockings encasing her slim legs with his hands, and pressed a kiss to every patch of bare skin he could reach. With her fingers tangling in his hair, offering encouragement, he dared kiss higher. Her thighs trembled as he urged them to part and pressed a fervent kiss to her curls. Frustrated by the awkwardness of her position, he eased one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her stance and revealing everything he needed right now. Oliver dipped his head, hungry for the taste of her.
He teased her mercilessly, licking her lower lips with long strokes of his tongue, delighted by her soft moans and how her nails dug into his scalp, keeping him exactly where he wanted to be. She came quickly. A choked cry muffled by her hand. When her tremors had ceased, he rose, freed himself, and slid inside her welcoming warmth with a sigh of relief. He’d needed her all day.
He shifted Elizabeth until she was completely off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist, arms twining about his neck. He moved within her, recklessly
pumping his hips with no thought for the next moments or the future. God, she felt good about him. Her passion inspired him to increase his own.
Her lips caressed his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He turned his head and claimed those wandering lips, stifling his own satisfied sigh as her tongue skimmed his.
He propped her back against the wall and placed his hands to either side of her head. He wanted to see her expression as he filled her with each slow thrust. There was nothing like her passion in his experience and he couldn’t get enough.
She bit her lip as his thrusts slowed. Their eyes met. “Good?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered and then closed her eyes. Oliver shifted until he held her hips in his hands and slowed his pace even further, prolonging the pleasure and holding off his own release. He wanted Elizabeth to come once more before he did. He wanted to see the expression he’d missed when he’d been kneeling at her feet.
He released her hip and tangled his fingers in her curls. She moaned, a soft complaint that had no real substance, and opened her eyes. Her slit was damp and her clitoris swollen. He rubbed his fingers against the needy flesh. Elizabeth’s back arched as she pushed onto his cock, burying him inside her unexpectedly.
The added friction sent a surge of lust straight to his groin. He surged into her and retreated, each time a little faster and harder than the last. His hand became wedged between them, fingers pressed to her clitoris and unable to move. Elizabeth didn’t seem to mind. Her hands clutched at his waistcoat, pulling him deeper with each thrust. When she tightened around his cock, coming with a quiet sob, Oliver lost all control. He slammed into her, roughly holding her against the wall as he took her body fast and hard. Elizabeth met his gaze with sated languor, a soft smile spreading over her lips at his aggression.
That smile brought pleasure within reach. His balls tightened, his loins throbbed and, at the very last moment, he wrenched himself free of Elizabeth’s clinging arms and legs as he came. He struggled to catch his breath, fighting the need to plunge back inside her once more. Instead, he dropped his head to her shoulder and kept her body at a distance. “Did I hurt you?”
Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) Page 14