by Ava Stone
“What are you saying?” she whispered.
“I’m going to change your mind, Olivia. I’m going to make you my duchess. Go riding with me today.”
She was staring at him, wide eyed, and Alex gently caressed her cheek.
“Just riding?” she asked quietly.
Triumphant, he nodded. “Riding and lunch. You haven’t eaten yet today, if I’m not mistaken.”
Atop a spirited mare, Livvie followed Alex’s lead into the woods and across a wildflower-sprinkled meadow. He was a powerful man, and he handled his hunter like a master horseman. His sculpted legs hugged the animal’s back and his black hair whipped in the wind. He was magnificent. Strong. Intoxicating.
And he wanted to marry her.
Never in Livvie’s wildest imaginations would she have conjured up such a situation. Most girls, probably every girl she knew in fact, would leap at the chance of being this man’s duchess. The offer was more than tempting, especially when memories of the night before washed over her. She wanted to feel that way again, to have him hold her again, to feel him all around her.
But she couldn’t let that happen. She was engaged and she adored Philip.
Unable to watch Alex’s splendid backside any longer, she urged her mare forward, and overtook him, sprinting towards another copse of trees.
The chase was on, and he was a shadow right behind her. They traded the lead back and forth under the shade of the woods and the brilliant sun of the open meadows and overgrown moors, until he finally burst past her on a straight away and pulled up at the edge of some ruins. Breathing heavily, Livvie pulled up beside him just as he was dismounting.
“Where, did you learn to ride like that?” he asked with an appreciative smile.
“Philip,” escaped her lips before she could stop herself.
Alex easily lifted her from the sidesaddle. Then he lowered her body, brushing it against his, until her boots were firmly on the ground. “Can you ride, astride?” he asked with a devilish twinkle to his silver eyes.
Livvie shook her head as the warmth from his gaze heated her skin.
“Then I’ll have to teach you,” he promised and gently brushed his knuckles across her cheek.
She took a step away from him to compose herself. What had she been thinking when she agreed to this ride in the first place? That was just it. She wasn’t thinking. Being in his presence, she seemed to lose all rational thought.
This was most certainly a foolish an idea. She would just have to regain control of the situation somehow and put some sort of distance between them.
Livvie started towards a slope overlooking the medieval ruins. A crumbling foundation littered the moor that appeared to have been two or three different buildings at one time. A single wall of ivy-covered limestone arches stood as a backdrop against the countryside. Wild orchids of varying colors, cowslips, and bluebells carpeted the floors of what she imagined had once been majestic rooms.
Alex’s arm snaked around her waist and she sucked in a breath as he pressed himself against her back. “Running from me so soon, Olivia?”
She turned in his arms and her heart leapt when she realized his silver eyes were dancing with merriment.
“Hardly.” She pushed away from him and started down a stony path towards the ruins. Then she glanced over her shoulder, smiling coyly at him. “Now, I’m running from you.” With a giggle, she lifted the skirt of her riding habit and quickened her pace.
But he didn’t follow her.
Instead he stood at the top of the slope, with his arms folded across his muscled chest, watching her with an amused look. “I’ll bring lunch down there. I’m certain you’re famished. God knows I am.” Then he disappeared from view.
Livvie reached the arches and ran her fingers along the vines. What was left of the ruins appeared to have once been an abbey. It was probably destroyed during the Reformation. But before then, it must have been thriving. She lost herself in creating a past for the place. Kind monks. Brave knights. Pretty maidens. The make-believe games she had played with Philip and the Averys as children flooded her memory.
“Olivia,” Alex’s low voice rumbled in her ear and she nearly jumped a mile in the air, since she hadn’t heard his approach at all.
Then he chuckled, and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Lunch is ready, sweetheart.”
She turned to face him, smiled softly, and allowed him to lead her to where he’d set up a heavy blanket on the ground near a patch of brilliant yellow cowslips.
“Where did you grow up, Alex?” she asked, looking back to the arches.
“Who says I have?” he replied as he opened a knapsack and retrieved their repast: some pheasant, brown bread, apples, currants, and dates. Then he handed her one of two flasks. “Cold well water,” he informed her.
“Thank you.” Though she was hungry, she was much more interested in the duke who sat next her. He had promised to answer her questions if she came with him. “Where were you raised?”
“Here and there,” he answered around a bit of pheasant.
Odd that he was dancing around her rather simple question. Her curiosity was piqued. “You and Staveley met at Harrow?” she asked, taking a bite of bread.
“Hmm,” he agreed, “along with Carteret and Greywood.”
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He finished his pheasant, dropped a currant into his mouth, and stared out towards the ruins.
Livvie turned her attention to the pretty wildflowers at the corner of their blanket. “Cowslips. It’s rare to see them in June.”
He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”
“Cowslips—the flowers,” she explained, pointing at the patch of bright yellow just a few inches away from his hand. “They usually bloom in April, or at the latest May.”
Apparently flowering schedules where not high on the duke’s list of interests, because he looked at her as if she had uttered something completely nonsensical. “Do you garden, Olivia?”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “No. But there’s a legend about cowslips. Would you like to hear it?”
“A legend about a flower?” He quirked a grin at her. “I can hardly contain myself.”
Livvie giggled, but continued anyway, “Legend has it that Saint Peter dropped the keys to the gates of Heaven, and when they fell to earth they became cowslips.”
Alex chuckled, pulling a stem of the yellow flowers from the ground. “I imagine they might resemble keys if one was deeply foxed.”
“Speaking from experience, are you?”
He winked at her, and Livvie’s heart flipped. She reached for her flask in an attempt to compose herself.
As she took a sip, Alex asked, “Do you suppose God sacked him?”
She nearly choked on her water.
“I mean how hard is it to hold on to a silly set of keys?” he continued. “Saint or not, old Peter should be sacked. And why is there a set of keys. How many locks are there? Shouldn’t one key suffice? ”
“I’ve never thought about it.” She laughed, thoroughly relaxed. It seemed like forever since she’d enjoyed herself so much, and he did seem more at ease.
“Wherever did you hear such a ridiculous story?” he asked, his silver eyes dancing.
“I don’t know,” she confessed with a shrug. He brushed the soft flower petals against her neck sending a shiver of anticipation racing along her skin.
“Well,” he began and dropped the stem to his lap, “I don’t think Saint Peter will let me in on my own accord. Do you suppose if I hold on to these I’ll be able to unlock the gates myself?”
“I suppose in your case, it couldn’t hurt, lacking in morals as you are. I would imagine you could use all the help you can get.”
Alex threw back his head and laughed. Not many women would dare say such a thing to him. Some might think it. But none would say it.
He was even more enthralled with her, and was very glad that she had agreed to this excursion with him. It was
good to have her away from Prestwick Chase and all the prying eyes there. Good to have her all to himself.
He leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him and appreciating how the sunlight hit Olivia’s cheeks, giving her a warm glow. He should take her some place warm on their wedding trip. Italy perhaps. Or maybe the Azores. “Have you traveled extensively?”
Olivia looked at him quizzically. “Have I traveled extensively?” she echoed.
He nodded.
“I suppose that’s subjective. I’ve been as far north as Yorkshire and as far south as the Dorset coast.”
There were so many things he was going to introduce her to then. “Where would you like to go? If you could go anywhere?”
She giggled and shook her head. “You told me that if I went riding with you that you’d answer all of my questions.”
“Where would you go?”
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
He thought she was enchanting. “Olivia,” he pressed.
“Papplewick. Now, don’t you think it’s my turn to ask the questions?”
Alex couldn’t help but smile. Of all the places in the world she could go, Olivia wanted to go to her childhood home. She was very different, this future bride of his. Almost his exact opposite. Moral. Naïve. Innocent.
And now she was blushing under his stare. No one would have ever believed that he would have a blushing bride. He hardly believed it himself. What a fortuitous turn of events.
“Alex!” Olivia pursed her lips.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“That’s hardly fair. I’ve answered all of your questions.”
“Life is rarely fair,” he responded with a wink.
She narrowed her pretty, hazel eyes on him and then cocked her head to one side. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, since I know all about you anyway,” she saucily bated him.
“Do you indeed?” he asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.
“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “To start, I know that you have dozens of children.”
He’d heard the same thing, of course, for years. But there was only Poppy. The light of his life. The only person whose love he never questioned. “Dozens?” He raised his brow. “I’m afraid the number is a few less than that. Is that the best you can do, sweetheart?”
Olivia gaped at him, but then again she did deserve it. Young women shouldn’t go around asking wicked dukes about their by-blows. He stifled a grin.
“No. I also know that you stole a vicar’s wife from him and installed her in your Mayfair home.”
“Ah. Aunt Mary,” he replied evenly, knowing full well that he was driving her mad and enjoying every moment of it. Then he lay back on the blanket, using his arm as a pillow, staring up at the cloudy sky. “That one there.” He pointed at a large puffy cloud above them. “Don’t you think that looks like a sailing ship?”
Olivia playfully smacked his arm. “What do you mean ‘Aunt Mary’?”
With a wolfish grin, he tugged at the hem of her habit. “Kiss me, Olivia, and I’ll tell you all about my dear old Aunt Mary.”
“You are impossible.” She folded her arms across her middle, making her delectable breasts rise, even in the confining habit. They must be uncomfortable in such an outfit, and Alex began to fanaticize about freeing them, making his mouth water in the process.
He needed to taste her again, especially with the memory of last night’s kiss so fresh in his mind.
In one swift move, Alex hauled her on top of him. Her nose touched his, and her hazel eyes were wide with astonishment. Then just as quickly, he rolled her beneath him, pinning her to the ground, and lowered his lips to the delicate skin at the base of her neck. She tasted like the sweetest honey, and he wanted to devour her, every inch.
“A-Alex!” she panted, squirming beneath him in an innocently seductive way. “What are you doing?”
He dragged his lips from her heated skin and stared down at her, caressing her cheek with his hand. “Changing your mind.”
Then he lowered his head again, this time claiming her mouth.
Hot and cold danced along Livvie’s skin, leaving a delicious tingling sensation in its wake. A delicious desire raced through her, like fingers of lightning warming her from the inside out. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t protest. She could only breathe in the scent of leather and heat that filled her senses and hope that he never stopped kissing her.
His tongue mingled with hers and stole her breath. Heat flashed along her legs his knee slide between her thighs and left her panting with need. Then his talented fingers trailed along her body, softly brushed against the side of her breasts, and reluctantly settled at her waist.
Livvie was in heaven. A heaven she didn’t know existed until now.
His lips were soft but firm as they teased and melded with hers.
“I can make you want me, Olivia,” he whispered across her lips.
She arched against his knee unconsciously. She already wanted him. If he did anything else, she’d lose her mind entirely.
He chuckled against her mouth. “Eager, are you?” Then he rose up on his elbows, just gazing into her eyes. “How about if we play a little game?”
“I’m certain your games are dangerous” she whispered.
“Ah,” he responded with a wink. “That’s the glory of this particular game. You’ll be in complete control, Olivia.”
“Complete control?” she asked skeptically. After all, he’d taken control of everything, ever since he’d found her in his wardrobe.
Balancing on one arm, Alex trailed one hand up her belly then let it hover right above her breast. “Whatever you ask of me, I will do it. And if you don’t ask, I won’t continue.”
Feverish and out of breath, she shook her head. His silver eyes twinkled as she arched her back, wanting his touch, but not wanting to ask for it.
“Say, ‘Touch me, Alex.’”
This was not a good idea. She had lost her mind to even consider doing what he asked. “Touch me, Alex,” the words were barely audible.
A seductive smile spread across his face as he lowered his wicked fingers to her breast. The contact was exhilarating, like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
He stroked her, rubbing his fingers across her swollen nipple, making her wish that riding habits were made of a far thinner material.
After a while, he stilled his hand and gazed into her eyes. “Would you like more, sweetheart?”
She nodded her head.
“Or would you like to try something different?”
When she stared at him quizzically, he laughed, rose up on his knees, and placed his hands on her jacket buttons. “Because you see, I would like to taste you, Olivia. But the decision is all yours. You’re in control. You can stop now, or have me simply touch you as I was before, or you can ask for my mouth.”
Her eyes must be wide as saucers and she hated feeling like a silly child. Livvie swallowed and closed her eyes, remembering when she saw him take the maid’s nipple into his mouth. Even then she’d wanted to know what that felt like. “Taste me, Alex,” she whispered again.
“My pleasure.”
By the time she’d opened her eyes, he’d unbuttoned her riding jacket and was tugging the bodice of her blouse and chemise to free one breast from its confines. She sucked in a surprised breath when he dipped his head and took her peaked nipple into his wet, warm mouth.
Instinctively, she ran her fingers through his hair, relishing in the amazing intimacy. He did more than just taste her. He suckled her. He licked her. He nipped at her very tip. Livvie thought she would come completely unraveled from his ministrations. Then she moaned when his knee inched higher between her legs, causing a maddening pressure to build inside her. Alex simply chuckled against her breast.
A rumble sounded in the distance, but Livvie paid it no attention until the first drop of rain hit her cheek. Her eyes flew open, and Alex raised his head, a self-satisfied sm
ile curved his lips.
He quickly pulled her blouse back into place. “Sweetheart, much as I would love to fondle you all afternoon, we’d best start back or risk being washed away.”
Disappointment crashed over her, even though she knew he was right. She breathed heavily, staring up at the darkening sky above them and wished that they had met in a different life. It would be incredibly easy to fall for Alexander Everett.
From where she was strolling the Prestwick Chase gardens on Captain Gabriel Seaton’s very powerful arm, Cordelia Avery noticed dark clouds off in the distance. A feeling of foreboding washed over her and she shivered.
Gabriel noticed her reaction and stopped, his warm, brown eyes focused on her. “What is the matter, my dear Cordelia?”
She smiled up at him, wondering how she had been so lucky to have discovered him—or rather that he had discovered her—at this tedious affair that pretended to be a House Party. “Nothing,” she lied, and they quietly walked on, listening to the nearby skylarks.
She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell anyone. However, she was terribly worried about Livvie and the approaching storm echoed that concern in her soul. Not even a fool could have missed the heat radiating between Olivia and Kelfield that morning. The air nearly crackled when they were together. In all her twenty years, Cordie had never known Livvie to look at anyone that way.
Not even Philip.
He’d been gone too long, leaving Livvie alone. That was the problem. She silently cursed the entire city of Toulouse to the devil. Philip, along with her brothers, Russell and Tristan, should be home already. Many others had returned from the continent’s battlefields. It was unfair that they were still in France.
Unfair and now dangerous, or at least the duke was dangerous.
Kelfield was an imposing man—sinfully handsome, charming when he wanted to be, and extremely powerful in every sense of the word. It only seemed natural that Livvie would be swept up by his attention. Cordie was certain she would have felt the same if the duke was demanding her company, and if she hadn’t started to lose her heart to Gabriel.