From the start, she’d known what they had couldn’t last. It had to come to this. She’d tried to prepare herself. But nothing could ready her for the shock of parting from Julian. It was like amputating a limb.
A gangrenous limb.
She looked him straight in the eye and wrenched her hands free of his. “I’m glad I made you think so. After all, you handed over a fortune to have every fantasy satisfied. Arousing a frigid woman was clearly what you wanted.”
The muscles of his arms bunched and his face went white as parchment. The color even seeped from his lips. For one appalled moment she feared he might hit her. Trembling, she shrank away before pride stopped her retreat.
He placed one shaking hand on the back of the chair near her shoulder. A tiny muscle at the corner of his mouth flickered erratically as he fought for control. “Damn you, you’re lying.”
“If you like to think so,” she said calmly, while feral beasts screamed inside her. “Obviously I lied about something. It’s up to you to decide what was true and what wasn’t.”
“Hell, Olivia. I can’t stay and fight this out now.” He bent his head and shook it. His eyes were stormy when he looked at her. “Stick me with knives tonight but don’t walk out like this.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“I might change it for you.” He lurched to his feet and frowned at her. “I’ll get out of this dinner as early as I can but I can’t let Roma down. I’ve let her down too often.”
Olivia rose too, with the courtesan’s conscious grace. “Good-bye, Lord Erith.”
“Blast you, it’s not good-bye.” He snatched her into his arms and pressed her to his chest. His heart pounded like a mallet wielded by a madman. “Wait until tonight. You owe me that at least.”
She made herself as unresponsive as a doll in his hold although the heat of his hands seeped in to threaten the frozen layer around her cold, cold soul. “You have no right to touch me anymore.”
“Don’t do this.”
“It’s done.” She tried to extricate herself but his grip was too tight.
She wondered if his grip on her heart was too tight for her ever to be free again. She had a doomed feeling it was.
“Like hell.” He grabbed her head with both hands and held her still while he covered her mouth with his. The kiss was hard and unforgiving. Almost insulting in its ruthless possession. But she found herself clawing at his shoulders and responding with every ounce of furious passion in her.
For an endless space they continued their argument with teeth and tongues and lips. Neither would admit defeat. Neither could gain victory.
The fierce heat scorched through her, right to the soles of her feet. She kissed him back but didn’t surrender an inch of her determination that this affair ended now. She was adamant as rock.
Until the kiss changed.
Gradually, tenderness loosened the taut hands framing her face. The lips ravaging hers became less insistent. They wooed rather than demanded. She tumbled headlong into helpless pleasure as his mouth became an instrument of forbidden delight. Her body softened, her bones loosened, heat pooled between her thighs.
She wanted to pull away, to dismiss him, deride this magic. But she was unable to stop kissing him, every slide of lips or tongue a warning of how dangerous he was.
He tore away from her. His eyes were alight with hunger and rage and something she didn’t want to recognize as anguish. A muscle jerked spasmodically in his lean cheek.
“And you toss this away for the sake of pride?” His question was blistering.
“It’s over,” she said rawly. Her knees trembled and she could barely stand. The force of his kiss still pounded through her like a hammer on an anvil. Her hands formed fists and she beat at his chest. “For God’s sake, leave me in peace.”
He caught her flailing hands. “You’ll never be at peace until you come to terms with your love for me.”
“I don’t love you,” she snarled, straining to escape his hold.
“Then why are you so upset?”
“Because you won’t let me go.”
“You don’t want me to let you go.”
“Yes, I do.”
Temper lit his handsome face and made his eyes flare brilliant silver. His hands tightened on hers, although he didn’t hurt her. She wished he would. She’d dearly love some reason to hate Lord Erith aside from the irrefutable fact that she could never be a fit consort for him.
“To hell with you, Olivia. You know I’ve got to go.”
“Then go,” she said stubbornly.
“I go and you mightn’t be here when I come back.” He hooked one hand behind her neck and forced her head up so she met his burning gaze. “If you have an ounce of feeling for me, stay.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Well, give me a chance to say nothing, then. I owe Roma tonight. It’s my fault she took this stupid risk. She’s acted like a ninnyhammer but she’s my daughter and I can’t abandon her.”
“Julian…” she started, then stopped, unsure how to continue.
“I’m ready, Papa.” Lady Roma hovered at the door.
Olivia expected Erith to jump away from her in embarrassment. After all, his daughter caught him clutching his mistress in a torrid embrace.
“The carriage is at the back gate.” He didn’t shift his intense stare from Olivia and he only slowly lifted his hands from her. In spite of everything, she mourned that he let her go. He would never touch her again, and his touch had become so very precious to her. For one brief deceptive moment he’d made her feel cherished, alive, clean. “I’m sure Miss Raines will lend you a veil and a bonnet.”
“I brought one.” Roma went across to the chair where she’d left her coverings. She seemed remarkably unfazed by her father’s flagrant flouting of convention.
“Good-bye, Lady Roma,” Olivia said with a regret that surprised her.
The girl glanced up and, astonishingly, sent her a smile of surpassing sweetness. “Good-bye, Miss Raines. I’m grateful for your kindness.”
“I wish you every joy in your marriage.” Her voice was choked and she avoided Lady Roma’s curious stare.
“Roma, come along,” Erith said impatiently. He turned as he ushered his daughter ahead of him out the door. He sent Olivia a stern look. “Don’t you dare think of going anywhere. We’re not finished.”
“Oh, yes, we are,” she bit out, raising her chin and directing a glare at him that in any just world would leave him bleeding on the floor.
“Not in this lifetime.”
He wheeled on his heel before she could argue and left with the fast, decisive walk that was his alone. She heard the door close sharply behind him.
He was gone.
Chapter 26
Erith returned to the house on York Street, earlier than he should, later than he needed to. Ostensibly nothing was different. His heart racing with foreboding, he dashed up the staircase to the decadent bedroom. He flung open the heavy oak door to the empty room.
The scarlet silk robe Olivia had appropriated from him was still draped across the bed. Her cosmetics were arrayed on the dressing table. He knew without checking that the armoire bulged with the opulent wardrobe he’d spent a fortune buying for her.
Just as he was certain she’d left him. After threatening so often, at last she’d gone. He had pushed her too far. The fact that she left her belongings meant nothing. She’d abandoned him to a life as barren as a desert.
Confound his blasted impetuous temper to Hades.
Regret turned his blood to ice. He’d had hours to rue the damage he’d done with his furious reaction to discovering Roma here. He’d give his right arm to take back the accusations he’d flung at Olivia. He understood the delicate balance of pride and sensitivity that sustained her. He also knew what courage she’d needed to overcome both and admit her love. His thoughtless words were a callous attack on everything she was.
After what he’d said, he could hardly bla
me her for running. God help him, he had no excuse for his tirade. In his heart, he’d always known she wouldn’t encourage Roma to visit.
With no life in the dead garden of his heart, he wandered through to the salon. Of course, she wasn’t there either. He felt hollow, numb, bereft.
He trudged back to the bedroom. The room that had witnessed desperate emotions, transcendent moments, a connection beyond anything he’d ever known.
The bed. The door. The floor. The walls. Every inch imprinted with the memory of Olivia shuddering her release in his arms.
After all those women during all those wild, empty years, only these few weeks with Olivia had marked his soul. Indelibly.
She’d still left him in the end. Damn it all to hell.
He snatched up her robe from the bed as if it could tell him where she’d gone. The garment released a drift of her evocative, haunting scent. Under the robe, the extravagant ruby collar lay in glittering splendor on the bedspread.
The message was unmistakable.
She wanted nothing more to do with him.
His bleak numbness snapped in an instant. With a strangled groan, he buried his face in the slippery red material. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and tried to convince himself Olivia would return to him.
He looked up to find Latham watching with very unbutlerlike compassion from the door. Without embarrassment, Erith lowered the robe. “Where is she?”
“Madam didn’t say, but she left about an hour after your lordship.”
Sudden hope surged. “Did she take her carriage?”
He could question the coachman when he returned. Perhaps discover some clue to her whereabouts.
Latham shook his head. “No, my lord. She left on foot.”
On foot? Where could she have gone? Then the solution struck him. It would be laughably obvious if he hadn’t been so close to shattering.
With a smothered curse, he flung the robe aside and strode out of the room.
Erith forced his way past Peregrine Montjoy’s butler into the candlelit salon where he’d made his heartless bargain with Olivia. He’d been a different man then. He hoped she’d been a different woman.
She’d told him she loved him. However unwillingly. He’d bet his life that hadn’t been a lie, even if she’d tried to wound him today by denying it. And if she loved him, he’d undoubtedly win her back. He had a weapon she couldn’t fight against.
Damn it, he just had to find her first.
At Erith’s brusque entrance, Montjoy looked up in shock, but only slowly withdrew the arm he’d draped around the willowy boy at his side. Erith immediately saw that the small circle playing piquet near the fire didn’t include a gorgeous tawny-haired siren.
“Lord Erith,” Montjoy said, clearly at a loss. He rose to his feet and flung his cards onto the table. Like his three companions, he was in shirtsleeves. He obviously hadn’t expected visitors at such an hour. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Where is she?” Erith asked urgently, not caring that his wild chase after his mistress would be the talk of London tomorrow. More scandal for Roma to eavesdrop on from behind closed doors.
“She?”
“Don’t play bloody games with me, man.”
Montjoy frowned. “Olivia?”
“Of course Olivia. I need to see her.”
Montjoy spoke to his friends as he moved away from the card table. “I’ll be back in a moment. Freddie, don’t peek at my hand.”
“Don’t interrupt your cards.” Erith’s fists closed and opened convulsively at his sides. He was only an inch away from choking Olivia’s whereabouts out of her elegant friend. “Just tell me where she is.”
“My lord, we can’t have this conversation here.” Montjoy ignored Erith’s impatient huff and air of incipient violence and gestured him out into the dimly lit hallway.
Once they were alone, Erith turned on Montjoy and spoke in a rush. If he didn’t find her soon, she could slip through his fingers completely. She had money and resources. She could go anywhere. “Is she upstairs? I swear I only want to talk to her. You must know I won’t hurt her.”
Even in the poor light, Montjoy’s troubled look was visible as he shut the door to the salon. “Of course you won’t hurt her. You’re in love with her.”
Erith stiffened with horrified shock, hating the sudden vulnerability that assailed him. He felt mortified color flood his face. Damn it, had she relayed their pillow talk to Montjoy?
“Good God, did she tell you that?”
“No, of course not.” A faint smile curved Montjoy’s full lips. “But only love could bring an earl famed for his arrogance to apologize without hesitation to a notorious cyprian.”
Erith’s bristling hostility subsided. Montjoy was right. Anyway, what point denying how he felt? “I’m not the only man who has loved her.”
Montjoy’s smile became reflective. “Yes, but you’re the only man she’s loved back.”
Montjoy understood her better than anyone. Any niggling doubts that had plagued Erith about her feelings retreated. He spoke more normally. “I know about your father and how you and Olivia united against him.”
Montjoy’s face, handsome enough to be called beautiful, paled with shock. “She’s never told anyone that. You realize I’m not her paramour, then.”
Erith shrugged. This wasn’t getting anywhere. “I guessed long ago.” He saw by Montjoy’s face that the man understood what else he’d guessed as well. He didn’t care about the fellow’s sexual tastes. All he cared about was finding his beloved. “For pity’s sake, man, stop tormenting me.”
“And now she’s left you.” Montjoy didn’t sound triumphant. He sounded worried.
“Temporarily.” He hoped to heaven that wasn’t just overweening optimism.
Montjoy shook his head with grim finality. “When she leaves a keeper, he tends to stay left.”
“I have an advantage—she loves me. I honor that you’ve protected her so long and faithfully. I know you don’t like me, but I beg of you—and I beg favors from no man—send for her. It’s my turn to look after her now.”
Montjoy regarded him with thoughtful eyes before he gave a brief nod. “I believe you really do love her. But I don’t know what the hell you can do about it.”
“Let me talk to her.” Erith caught sight of his face in one of the mirrors lining the hallway. He looked wild, frantic, half mad.
“I would, my lord. I’m as sentimental as the next fellow. The prospect of a woman bringing the all-conquering Earl of Erith to his knees touches my heart.” He paused. “But she’s not here.”
“So where is she?”
“I have no idea.” Montjoy’s frown deepened. “I hope she’s all right.”
Erith’s temper, barely held in check since she’d deserted him, snapped. He grabbed Montjoy by the shirtfront and lifted him to his toes. “Tell me where she’s gone.”
“Believe me, old man, I would. But she didn’t confide in me.” Montjoy appeared unconcerned to be suspended from Erith’s clenched hands. “She’s been remarkably close-mouthed about your affair. I should have realized earlier that meant trouble.”
“If you’re lying, old man, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“Beat me to a pulp, Erith. It won’t get you any closer to what you want.” Montjoy still sounded unruffled. “She’s gone to ground somewhere. She’s done it before. You won’t find her unless she wants to be found. I suspect in this case, she most emphatically doesn’t want to be found.”
Erith realized he made an utter fool of himself. With an apologetic gesture, he released Montjoy. “I’m acting like a blockhead.”
“I find it rather reassuring.” Montjoy straightened his clothing with admirable sangfroid. “The man I met in my salon a few weeks ago was a dashed cold fish.”
“Would she have gone to Leo?”
“Good Lord, you really have found out a lot, haven’t you? She doesn’t tell anyone about Leo. Leo is the last bastion.”
�
�No, her heart is the last bastion,” Erith muttered, then flushed as he realized what he’d said.
“Yes. And it’s a fortress that has never fallen. Bonne chance, mon ami.” Montjoy bowed his head as if acknowledging a point in a fencing match. He spoke more seriously. “She might go to him. I would have thought she’d come to me before Leo, if only to avoid a scandal. Perhaps she thinks I’d try and talk her into returning to you and fighting for what she wants.”
“That would be outstandingly generous,” Erith said, astounded.
Montjoy shrugged. “She deserves to be loved. If your reckless air is any indication, you definitely love her. Go with my blessing. She’s been alone too long. Do you know where to find Leo?”
“Yes.” Erith started to go then stopped. He turned to face Montjoy. “Thank you.” He extended his hand to the decorative young man.
Montjoy frowned. “You know what I am yet still you’re willing to give me your hand?”
“Of course.”
Montjoy accepted his hand in a brief clasp whose strength surprised Erith. The man might look like a damned poodle, but there was character there. And unmistakable love for the woman Erith adored above all others.
Erith strode out of the overdecorated mansion. Now it seemed charmingly eccentric instead of oppressive. He truly had changed from the man who marched in here weeks ago with no objective but to claim London’s most prestigious bit of muslin as his prize.
On such seemingly unimportant decisions, a life could change forever.
A fine dawn broke as Erith rode up to the stone rectory that sheltered Olivia’s cousin and her husband and the child his beloved could never acknowledge. Erith knew how that ate at her. She’d had to endure so much in her life. And she’d done it with grace and courage and style.
He hoped to Hades he could get her to embrace a future with him in similar spirit.
He reined in his tired and dusty horse, Bey, the same animal Leo had admired so extravagantly, and leaped to the ground. Dear God, let him find her here. Let this be the happy end to his precipitate chase.
Tempt the Devil Page 28