A Scandalous Pursuit

by Ava Stone

  She glowered at him and swiped at her tear-stained cheeks. “I said, ‘Go away’.”

  Gently brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumbs, Alex flashed her a roguish smile. “Yes, but I’m Kelfield and I do as I please.”

  “Don’t.” She choked on a laugh and hugged her knees tighter to her chest. “Don’t be charming. I’m angry with you and am determined to stay that way.”

  “Are you also determined to stay cold?” he asked and then draped her pink wrapper over her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you really should have a care. As much as I enjoy seeing you in only your chemise, the house is fully staffed now, and I’d hate to have to sack all the new footmen for falling in love you.”

  A gurgled laugh escaped her. “Please go away. You’re being charming.”

  “Well, I can’t help it,” he replied, taking one of her delicate hands in his, softly kneading it with his thumb. “It’s a curse.”

  She laughed again and Alex’s spirits lifted with the sound. “I do wish you’d stop. You’re making it very difficult for me to remain furious with you.”

  It was now or never. Better to get all the cards on the table. Alex sighed, staring deeply into his wife’s shadowed face. “Olivia, why exactly are you furious with me?”

  She sobered instantly, and began to tick off the reasons with her fingers. He soon wished he hadn’t asked at all. “Well, first of all, you were a perfect beast just now in my room—bellowing at Molly and acting like a selfish lout. But before that I was angry because you let me sit in that box without telling me what was going on. I had to hear about Miss Kane from that lecherous wastrel Haversham, when you should have told me. All night I sat and watched Miss Kane, without having any idea who she was to you. Do you know how foolish that makes me feel? Then I looked around at the other boxes. Everyone was looking at us, and I realized they were all looking for my reaction to the situation.”

  “I doubt everyone was. Women don’t really know those sorts of details, sweetheart. Caroline didn’t, and she’s generally well-informed.”

  “That does not make it better, Alex. If you’d told me, we wouldn’t have gone tonight. Do you think I want to look at a woman all evening and know my husband has shared her bed?”

  Then she’d need to go around Town with a blindfold on to avoid them all. “Olivia,” he started cautiously, “I’m not going to give you a list of every woman I’ve bedded.”

  “Not enough foolscap?” she asked tartly.

  “Not appropriate,” he answered.

  She scowled at him. “And then there was the charming conversation between you and the marquess about that actress. You just gave her to him, like—”

  “I most certainly did not. Sarah makes her own choices. Though she can do better than Haversham, she can have him if that’s what she wants.”

  “She makes her own choices? Well, isn’t that novel for a woman?”

  All of Alex’s muscles tensed at her less than subtle reference to her own lack of choice in marrying him. “I didn’t make society’s rules, Olivia, and I rarely live by them. So don’t blame me for your predicament. You were the one to sneak into my room, after all.”

  “That wasn’t what I was saying.”

  “Wasn’t it?” he asked challengingly, as his face heated up.

  “I’ve just never considered that sort of woman had more freedom than those who lived respectable lives.”

  He shouldn’t have taken offense at her words. They were the truth by society’s standards. But he didn’t seem able to help himself. “Respectability is subjective, which you should well know with the way people have treated you since we’ve married. Sarah Kane is a kind soul, her choice of profession notwithstanding. Don’t ever disparage her.”

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open and she blinked at him in astonishment. “You love her.”

  Alex shook his head. There was no way to explain it. She was too unworldly to understand. “Not in the way you mean. Sarah is—was—a very good friend, and I wish her the best of luck.” He gently touched her tear-stained cheeks. They were red and puffy. The sight tore at his soul. He’d never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to bring tears to her eyes. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry about tonight. I suppose I could have told you the reason I didn’t want to attend the theatre, but…” He sighed. “Well, I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not something a man can easily say to his wife.”

  “She’s not your m-mistress anymore, is she?” Olivia sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

  He shook his head. “I don’t need a mistress. I have a very pretty wife that makes me lust after her all the time.”

  Alex expected her to blush, but instead she buried her head against the back of the chaise and fresh tears started to fall. The sight was almost too much for him to bear. He leaned forward and scooped her into his arms, then settled himself on the chaise with her on his lap. “Olivia,” he began, cradling her against him. “What’s the matter now?”

  She shook her head and burrowed closer into his warmth. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

  “I won’t,” he promised, gently smoothing her hair with his hand.

  Quietly, Olivia played with one of the buttons on his shirt, staring at his chest. He thought she wouldn’t speak at all, but then she said in a very tiny voice, “I don’t like to think about you with other women. I know you’ve been with them. Everyone knows. But I don’t like to think about it.”

  Alex’s heart swelled with hope. Was it possible she had feelings for him that extended outside of the bedroom? He’d hoped that someday she could grow to care for him, despite not having had a choice in their marriage. It seemed too good to be true. “Watch what you say, Olivia,” he said with a self deprecating laugh, “or you’ll have me believing you’d actually choose to be my wife.”

  “Alex, I…” She placed her hand on his heart and stared into his eyes. “I love being your wife.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle with disbelief. “Despite the fact that you’re raising my daughter and that you’re not allowed to see your best friend?”

  She nodded. “I adore Poppy, though I’m not so sure about my mothering skills. And Cordie…well, talk will eventually die down. Someone else will do something that will capture the ton’s interest. I’m sure Lady Avery will come around in the end.” Then she rested her head against his chest, touching him softly through his shirt, making his heart pound rapidly. “But you, Alex...surely, you know what you do to me. The intimacies. The way you make me feel.”

  His naïve wife. Not that he was surprised. Olivia didn’t realize that men and women pleasured each other all the time. Love didn’t have anything to do with sex. Her feelings were simply confused. If they’d not married and Philip Moore was in London, she would have chosen the Major. He didn’t have any doubts about that. Still, the idea that she loved being his wife was an intoxicating one. Alex sighed. “Oh, sweetheart. What am I to do with you?”

  Olivia hid her face in his shirt, avoiding his gaze. “I knew you’d think I was silly.”

  He tilted her head back to look at him. “I don’t think you’re silly. I think you’re delightful.”

  Then he kissed her.

  It was a tender kiss. One that, like so many of his, made her toes curl. When Livvie opened her mouth, a moan escaped her. Alex chuckled against her lips and then swept his warm tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers. She slid her hands up his chest, all muscle and sinew, to settle on his strong shoulders.

  “Olivia,” he rasped, moving his hands along her curves until he plucked at one nipple.

  Spirals of desire raced through Livvie and she pressed herself closer to her husband, reveling in the feel of his aroused manhood under her bottom. She wanted to feel him all around her, inside her, pushing her slowly to the edge of insanity.

  Livvie shifted on his lap, causing a groan to escape his lips. Then she ran her hands through his inky hair, twirling her fingers through the short curls at his neck. “Make love to me, Alex.”

/>   He grunted his answer, sliding her chemise up over her hips. Alex squeezed her thigh, sending a shiver of anticipation straight to her core. Livvie’s head fell against his chest, and one of his clever fingers parted the springy hair at the apex of her thighs. When he touched her sensitive nub, she thought she would completely unravel.

  Slowly, methodically, he stroked her in and out, over and over. His touch, his ministrations, drove her wild. “Please, Alex,” she begged him for more, which he freely gave.

  Just as Livvie was certain she would expire, he chuckled, soundly kissed her, and opened his trousers. “Get on top of me, sweetheart.”

  “On top?”

  He stroked her cheek and even in the dim light she could see his grin. “It’s just like riding astride.”

  Livvie looked down as his engorged manhood and swallowed. “You haven’t taught me how to do that yet.”

  “Consider this your first lesson,” Alex rasped, reaching for her. “Straddle me. Put your knees on either side of my legs.”

  She did as he asked but felt strange doing so. None of their other couplings had been like this. “You’re certain?”

  He nodded, slid his hands back under her chemise, and grasped her hips with his long fingers. Then he lowered her to him, slowly impaling her on his staff. “Dear God, Olivia,” he whispered appreciatively.

  He stretched her and filled her and made Livvie see stars when she closed her eyes. “Oh, Alex.”

  “Now move on me, Olivia. Ride me up and down.”

  The suggestion sent delicious shivers across her body. She leaned forward, holding on to his shoulders and moved over him. It was enthralling and she slid back and forth, watching his face as he neared his pinnacle.

  The scent of rich sandalwood teased her and sent her spiraling to her own edge. Alex’s hands tightened on her hips as he thrust upward over and over. Then he lowered one hand between her legs and again very lightly grazed her throbbing, sensitive nub.

  Livvie lost all consciousnesses and was only vaguely aware of him spilling himself inside her with a primitive growl. She collapsed atop him, panting, tying to catch her breath.

  Alex wrapped his arms around her, holding her close for what felt like forever. Then he finally kissed her brow. “We’d best go back upstairs, sweetheart.”

  “Must we?” she whined. She was so comfortable, so sated, she hated to move.

  “You don’t want poor Gibson to find us like this. Besides, this chaise is not comfortable enough to spend the entire night. You can trust me on that.”

  When she frowned in response, Alex chuckled. “Be a good girl, Olivia, and I promise we can christen all the other rooms later.”

  Good heavens! He was brash. She loved that about him. He was so unrepentant and confident. Arrogant, that’s what she used to call it. But she no longer minded that quality in him. In fact it was intoxicating.

  Livvie rolled off him, staring blankly at the darkened library. She would blush whenever she entered this room in the future.

  Alex quickly righted himself and then scooped her up in his arms. She’d never felt so safe, so protected, so cared for. He carried Livvie back up the stairs to her chambers, her sated body limp against his. He placed her on the counterpane, apparently prepared to tuck her in for the night, but she held on to his neck, forcing him to fall on the bed beside her.

  “Sweetheart, let me put you in bed,” he whispered across her lips.

  Livvie frowned in response. “No, because then you’ll leave me. Please, Alex,” she begged, holding tighter to him, “stay with me tonight.”

  He paused a moment, looking into her eyes and Livvie thought he’d agree, but then he shook his head. “You wouldn’t want me to stay all night.”

  “But I do,” she tried to assure him.

  Alex kissed her softly and traced her jaw with his fingers. “Olivia, it’s late. Get your sleep.”

  He pulled back the counterpane and slid her under the covers. Livvie pouted when he started to leave her. She hated being separated from him and longed to spend the night in his arms, feeling his strength, this warmth, his love.

  His love? He’d never said those words.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered as he opened the door that led to his room.

  When he was gone, Livvie blinked up at the canopy above her. His love? Did he love her? At times she thought he did. The look he often had in his eyes when they were alone. The way he touched her, filling her with desire. The way he whispered her name during their lovemaking.

  She knew for certain that she loved him. Her heartbeat quickened when he was near. Her breath would catch whenever he met her eyes. When he wasn’t around, her thoughts were only of him. She didn’t doubt that she’d loved Philip—she probably always would—but those sweet feelings paled in comparison to for what she felt for Alex. The intensity of her feelings for her husband were so strong, there wasn’t another word for it but love.

  And she hated being cut off from him at night.

  Livvie awoke with a smile on her face. The memories of Alex’s seductive touch were fresh on her mind. She knocked on their adjoining door but received no answer. So, she pushed it open only to find the room empty and already cleaned. She heaved a sigh, wishing she’d caught him before he’d left for the day. He’d had another bad dream the night before. She had been sorely tempted to go to him, but she hadn’t the courage to do so.

  After Livvie’s bath and morning ablutions, Molly dressed her for the day in a fashionable robin’s egg blue dress with tiny, white rosebuds. She quickly broke her fast and started for the music room. Haydn was racing through her veins.

  Then she stopped in her tracks.

  She could play the piano and lose herself in the music…but it suddenly seemed a much better idea to spend the day with Poppy. They’d enjoyed a daily tea party ever since that first day, but she should spend more time with the child. Her decision made, Livvie turned towards the stairs and made her way to the nursery. Mrs. Bickle was patiently listening to an outlandish story, while Poppy waived her arms wildly. “And then the princess rode the unicorn up to the castle, and…”

  The child stopped talking when she noticed Livvie in the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account, Poppy.”

  But her step-daughter paid her request no notice and rushed towards her. “Do you want to have a tea party?”

  Livvie shook her head, taking in the tattered blue dress that the girl always seemed to wear. An idea hit her. She couldn’t go shopping with Cordie, but she could certainly go with Poppy. “Is this your favorite dress?”

  The girl nodded her head. “Papa says I look like a princess in it.”

  “Ah,” Livvie replied, understanding completely now. “Would you like to go shopping with me today, Poppy? We can order you some new dresses.”

  Poppy frowned. “But Papa likes this one.”

  Livvie tapped her nose and smiled. “I’m certain that we can pick out some new ones that he’d like just as well. The blue is pretty on you, but I think pink might be even prettier. Oh, and green will make your eyes sparkle.”

  “Really?” her step-daughter asked, her silver eyes wide.

  “Absolutely. We can look at fashion plates and pretty silks and muslins.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s!” Poppy gushed, her raven curls bouncing up and down.

  Livvie smiled at the child then turned her attention to the nursemaid. “Mrs. Bickle, will you see to it that Poppy is ready to leave in half an hour?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Madam Fournier’s small shop in Bruton Street was both exclusive and high priced. The tiny French modiste’s talents were well sought after, and while an appointment would normally have been necessary, Livvie was warmly welcomed for two reasons. The first was that Caroline had been a patron of Madam’s for many years and had helped the woman build her clientele. But the second reason was that Livvie was now a very wealthy duchess and regardless of the ton’s view of her, shopkeepers would welcome her with o
pen arms.

  “Your Grace!” the small dressmaker gushed when Livvie and Poppy entered her shop. “You do me such a compliment coming here.”

  Livvie smiled in response. “Thank you, Madam. This is my step-daughter Poppy, and we would like to look at some fashion plates.”

  The modiste’s smile faltered. “For the child?”

  “Yes, and for me, of course, as well. Lady Staveley is hosting a large ball next week, and I know it is short notice, but I would like something new.”

  “Something that speaks to your new—what is the word—exalted station?”

  Well, that was one way of putting it. Livvie nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you shall have it, Your Grace.”

  In no time, Livvie and Poppy sipped tea and flipped through Madam’s fashion plates. Poppy was measured, poked and prodded, but she giggled nearly the entire time, thoroughly enjoying herself and the attention. One would think that after living with her actress mother, Poppy would have been accustomed to costumes, gowns, and fabrics, but the child was mesmerized by the entire event.

  It was surprisingly enjoyable to experience mundane activities through the eyes of a cheerful five-year-old. Livvie’s heart swelled as the girl flipped through swatches of fabric and asked the modiste all sorts of questions, which the dressmaker and her assistants happily answered in a rapid, French-English mix.

  “She is adorable, no?” the seamstress, Amelie, asked of the others.

  “Oui,” Madam answered with an indulgent smile. “Elle est délicieuse.” Then she turned her attention to Livvie and rubbed her chin. “Now I am thinking of your dress, Your Grace.”

  “Have you an idea?”

  After squinting her eyes and tapping her lips, Madam shouted, “Copper!” from across the room.

  Livvie nearly jumped out of her skin. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Copper,” the Frenchwoman repeated. “That is your color, Your Grace. Your eyes, your hair. Copper for the gown for Staveleys’.”

  She didn’t think she’d ever worn that color before. But since it wasn’t scarlet or something equally daring, Livvie smiled at the modiste. “Cousin Caroline raves about your genius, Madam. I willingly put myself in your capable hands.”