Lessons After Dark

by Isabel Cooper

  So did his gaze, dark and hungry as it swept from her flushed face and disarranged hair, down to where her blouse fell open and her breasts rose out of her corset. Then he reached for her again, unfastening the little metal hooks of the corset with fingers that fumbled only a little. Medical training, Olivia decided, was certainly worth something.

  Distracting Gareth would have been relatively easy just then. Olivia could tell as much from his rapid breathing, from the way his pulse beat in his neck, from the rigid control he focused on the metal hooks and eyes. He was trying very hard to keep his attention on the task at hand, and if he had to try, she could have sabotaged the attempt easily. The only problem was…she didn’t want to.

  Tactically, Olivia reasoned, it would do her good to let Gareth undress her. It would put her on higher ground if he acted as a servant now. Besides, the layers of cloth and metal, which she barely noticed most days, were now unbearably confining. So she stood and watched and held mostly still until Gareth unfastened the last hook and shoved both corset and blouse off her body. She didn’t notice when they hit the floor.

  Gareth didn’t look either. His gaze lingered for a moment on her breasts, the dark pink nipples already hard and straining. Then, with a sigh of mixed relief and torment, he pulled Olivia back toward him, sliding his hands around her waist and then upward, caressing the skin he’d just exposed. His mouth met hers again just as his hands cupped her breasts, hot and slow and intent.

  Biting her lip wouldn’t work that time. Olivia cried out, unable to help it. She felt Gareth’s satisfied chuckle even as he muffled the sound with his mouth, and she blushed, but she couldn’t make herself care very much. Especially not once he started playing with her nipples, brushing them lightly and then rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Now she was moving her hips with no conscious thought of seduction, with very little conscious thought at all, in fact, simply seeking pressure and heat and sensation.

  It did help that Gareth thrust back against her and moaned. It helped that his grip was harder now and his body rigid beneath her hands. The small section of Olivia’s brain that still thought about games and scores found his reactions immensely satisfying. The rest of her just burned.

  When Gareth drew her down into a chair, she had no idea of resisting. She knew only that straddling him let her rub herself against his male organ all the more effectively. Her legs wouldn’t support standing up much longer, anyhow, and their new position brought her nipples much closer to his mouth.

  Then he took one into his mouth, and Olivia arched helplessly forward against him, lost in desire. She vaguely noticed Gareth was holding himself very still. More importantly, one of his hands was on her leg, pushing her skirt and petticoats aside and sliding upward.

  She let out a rush of breath when his fingers brushed against her sex. Somehow she didn’t scream. Gareth’s touch was light at first, teasing. His hand circled away, down her thighs, and then came back to cup her more solidly. One finger slid inside, then another, exploring, preparing.

  Then guiding.

  At some point he’d gotten his trousers undone. The head of his erection pressed against Olivia’s opening, hot and hard, and, from her limited experience, rather on the large side. She caught her breath and shifted her weight, taking him just a little bit inside.

  “God,” said Gareth.

  His voice came from deep in his throat, and his free hand tightened on Olivia’s hip, but he made no particular move to rush things. Olivia was mostly glad of that. Ready as she was, it had been a very long time. But, she thought vaguely with what small part of her was still capable of thought, it would be nice to provoke him entirely out of his self-control sometime.

  Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, and near the end the slowness was a challenge to her willpower as well as his. The feeling of fullness inside of her, of heat and pressure, was incredible, and the guttural sounds Gareth was making only aroused her more.

  When they were fully joined, Olivia held still for a second. Some sensations took time to fully appreciate. Gareth’s head was back against the chair now, his face tense, and he’d closed his eyes, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Olivia could still read controlled desperation as well in the rest of his expression. Looking down at him, she began to move, one very gradual circle of her hips.

  She couldn’t stay slow for long. Not with Gareth’s body pressed against hers while his manhood throbbed inside her. Certainly not when he leaned forward and sucked at her nipple again. By the time he gripped her hips and urged her into an ever-quickening rhythm, she was more than glad to go where he led. Olivia let her head fall back, closed her eyes, and let go.

  Pleasure didn’t so much build as break like a storm. Everything blended: Olivia’s increasingly frantic motions; Gareth arching beneath her, forcing her to take him deeper and harder; heat and sweat and lights flashing behind her eyelids.

  Olivia had barely enough presence of mind to scream into her hand when her climax hit. Gareth wasn’t far behind. One more powerful thrust forward and up, a long breath escaping through gritted teeth, and then a spreading warmth within her that matched the aftershocks of her own release.

  A moment or two later, she opened her eyes reluctantly.

  The world was still there.

  This was going to be a slight problem.

  Chapter 30

  Thought followed far too quickly on the heels of satisfaction. Gareth would have welcomed a little more time before certain realizations sank in: that he’d just given way to lust on a library chair, for instance, or the woman he’d given way with was, Olivia Brightmore. Particularly the latter.

  Briefly, he indulged in a wholehearted wish that his recent activity hadn’t burned off the rest of the magical energy. A little intoxication would have been quite welcome.

  Gareth forced himself to look up at Olivia. Flushed and disheveled, with her bare body rising up from her dark skirt, she was enough to quicken his pulse even then. Nonetheless, it took an effort for Gareth to meet her eyes. It didn’t help either that Olivia’s were still a little dazed.

  Gareth cleared his throat. “Well,” he said and stopped, having come to the end of his store of speech.

  “Well,” said Olivia. She looked around, glanced down at Gareth, and rose quickly. Gareth’s body protested the loss of her warmth, but he resolutely ignored it. “We’d better get back before someone comes looking.”

  Her voice was crisp now, if not entirely steady. As Gareth watched, she plucked her corset from the floor and began to undo the laces, fingers moving quickly and precisely.

  After a moment to rearrange his clothes, Gareth sat up, looked at the wall, and braced himself. Honor demanded certain things from him. Obligations he’d never thought to have toward a confidence woman, granted, but…

  He had known Olivia’s past when he’d kissed her. He had known it when he’d undressed her and drawn her down onto the chair. Gareth couldn’t pretend he’d been under any illusions about her then.

  When he looked back at Olivia, she was hooking up the front of her corset, her dark head bent forward. Locks of her tumbled hair fell against one cheek, obscuring Gareth’s view of her face. Perhaps that was just as well.

  “You must permit me to apologize,” he began. “My conduct was—”

  “I don’t.”

  Her voice was quiet, and the words were a little muffled by the position of her head, but Gareth heard them well enough.

  Still, he asked, “Sorry?”

  Olivia sighed. “I don’t permit you to do any such thing.” She sounded exasperated, hardly flattering at such a time, and she jerked hooks into place as she spoke. “You took no advantage. If anything, I was in more control than you were. I’d less power affecting my mind, and I’m more used to it.”

  What she said was true, and Gareth couldn’t deny it was a relief to hear. He hadn’t really expected tears or recrimination, not from Olivia, and yet, a man could never be certain. Especially since he hadn
’t bedded any respectable women before, not even one with Olivia’s nebulous claim to the title.

  Nonetheless it left him floundering a little. “Ah…”

  The last hook clicked into place. Olivia lifted her head and met his eyes, her gaze as steady as her voice. “You haven’t ruined me. I was married before, if you’ll recall. And…” Then she did break off and bit her lip. Color rose up her neck. “I’m in no danger of…I know how to keep from…”

  “I am a doctor, you know,” he said and then frowned. “But most methods of preventing children aren’t very reliable.”

  “The magical ones are.” Olivia turned away and reached for her blouse. The corset didn’t fit at all well now, but it would stay on, or it looked like it would. “Or they’re supposed to be. I’ll let you know if there’s any trouble.”

  “Yes,” said Gareth, trying to get his thoughts into some kind of order. She had magic to keep from getting pregnant? He should have expected as much. He felt rather like the floor was moving.

  When he reached for some sort of mental handhold, the lessons of his youth came back again, damn them. “I really think I should—”

  Olivia snapped her head up. Her hair fell in dark curls against her bare neck. Glaring at him, she looked like some Olympian goddess faced with a presumptive mortal. “Well, don’t,” she snapped. “It happened, there’s no going back, I’m really quite aware of all your regrets, and I give…I’d lose as much as you would if the Grenvilles found out. More, probably. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I wasn’t,” said Gareth, who truly hadn’t thought of the possibility until then.

  Some of the flame went out of her eyes. Not all, though. “Then stop apologizing, and stop trying to work yourself up to whatever offer you think you have to make.” Olivia pulled her blouse up onto her shoulders. “I assure you I don’t find the idea any more enticing than you do.”

  While she fastened up the remaining buttons, Gareth stood silently, trying to find some words that were appropriate ones she wouldn’t see through as lies. Not that she was repulsive—far from it—or even that marriage would necessarily be unpleasant, though he hadn’t thought of the prospect in some years. But to let anyone so intimately into his life, and especially a woman with Olivia’s past…

  It would have gone against all sense.

  Therefore, it must be a relief to hear there was no need for such an offer, to have Olivia reject it before the words had even crossed Gareth’s lips. She was certainly a woman of the world and would understand, or should.

  Yet Gareth found he couldn’t simply say so.

  After a little while, she looked up at him with a softer gaze, one hand full of the buttons that had tumbled onto the floor. “Really,” said Olivia, “trying to live up to your name is all well and good. But I’m not a damsel in a tower, and this isn’t Camelot. We both know anything that…came from this…would be horrible. As for the rest…” She shrugged. “You’re a grown man, I’m a grown woman, and we had a moment of weakness after a very trying event. It’s hardly the end of the world.”

  “One can only hope,” said Gareth, seeking refuge in wryness. “Hard to know for certain around here.”

  Olivia laughed quickly. “I think one of the books would have mentioned something,” she replied. She slipped the buttons into her skirt pocket, tugged at the front of her shirtwaist, and glanced over at him. “Do you think I can get back to my room without scandal?”

  Gareth eyed her, trying to keep his gaze clinical and dispassionate. The missing buttons wouldn’t be too obvious unless someone stood very close. Her hair might be a bit of a problem, though. He personally wanted to run his fingers through it, just before trailing them down her neck…

  “If anyone asks,” he said, “tell them you had a headache after everything upstairs, and I said your hairpins were making it worse. Other than that, I think you’ll do.”

  She flashed him a smile, quick and almost impersonal. That was probably wise, Gareth told himself. “Thank you,” she said and headed for the door.

  At the last moment, her hand on the knob, Olivia turned back. “Really,” she said. “Don’t worry. I don’t blame you, and there won’t be consequences. These things happen. Now that we know, they won’t happen again.”

  “Of course not,” said Gareth, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

  ***

  On any other day, Olivia knew her appearance would have drawn attention then questions then probably outrage. Even Gareth’s reassurance had been halfhearted, and reasonably so. Her loose hair was blatant, and once someone noticed that, they’d almost certainly be looking for other things amiss.

  Take the headache a step further, she told herself, keeping to a swift but decorous pace as she climbed the stairs. She wanted to run, but that would have looked suspicious and she wasn’t entirely sure her legs were up to the challenge. I felt faint, I had to loosen my laces quickly, and I tore some buttons in my haste. Gareth was in the room with me, but he is a doctor. There’s some advantage to that.

  She repeated the story in her mind a few times, couldn’t find any noticeable holes, but still wasn’t sure it would hold up. People found scandal in the most innocent things. Her mother had been very clear on that point, long ago, and there was nothing innocent in what she’d just done.

  As had happened when she’d come to Englefield, a memory rose up to give her comfort: Hawkins, when she’d first started working for him. She’d asked a similar question, though not about anything carnal. He’d laughed and pulled the ends of his ginger mustache. Human nature, my dear, straining at gnats and swallowing camels. Lie boldly enough, and a man will believe whatever you tell him. Look nervous, and nobody will believe you if you say the sky is blue.

  Remembering that helped. Regardless, as soon as Olivia made it back to her room, unseen, thank God, or so she thought, she sat heavily on the bed and let herself go weak with relief.

  She knew she had been astoundingly lucky. Lucky she wasn’t seen, lucky she had a handy excuse, and lucky she’d lived by herself and her clothes still reflected as much, although the idea of Gareth assisting her was diverting on a few levels. Lucky, horribly enough, the Grenvilles’ return and distress had kept the household’s attention.

  Lucky she knew how to lie well, if it came to that.

  Quickly, she stood up from the bed and began to repair the damage to her appearance. It really wasn’t too difficult, not now that she was back in her room and not trying to talk with Gareth at the same time. Not being distracted by his attempts at propriety.

  Although the apology had been a bit exasperating, and the halfhearted approach to a proposal more so, Olivia had to admit most men wouldn’t have bothered with either. Not for a widow who’d been quite enthusiastic about the whole process, not for a woman who they knew had been on the stage in any capacity, and certainly not for a woman whom they held in less-than-high regard. Gareth was more civil these days, but Olivia was certain his feelings toward her were decidedly mixed, at best.

  Despite all of that, she hadn’t been surprised when he’d spoken. Irritated, but…Of course he’d apologized. Of course he’d felt he should offer. Anything else, from Gareth, would have been like sprouting wings or growing a second head. Perhaps even less probable, given their surroundings. Olivia knew him well enough by now.

  And even though she’d meant it when she said nothing would happen again, she couldn’t find it in her to regret what had already passed between them.

  Chapter 31

  For a man who had been so obviously close to death a few hours before, Mr. Grenville looked remarkably well when Olivia saw him again. That wasn’t saying a great deal. He was still lying in bed and very pale, but his eyes focused when he saw her, and he smiled. Joan was actually sitting in the chair by him rather than pacing.

  She still looked like she wanted to hit someone.

  A bouquet of pink roses lay in her lap, wrapped in several layers of white cloth. “I didn’t touch
it bare-handed,” Joan said when she saw the direction of Olivia’s gaze, “and I don’t think anyone else did. It was still on the floor of the carriage. Have a look.”

  With most of her remaining magical strength, Olivia invoked her sight again and peered at the flowers. To her surprise, she saw nothing overtly sinister there—nothing like the light that had attacked Simon—but the roses didn’t look normal either. In the aether, they were gray shadows of themselves, bleached and drained of all vitality. When Olivia looked at them again in the normal world, the blossoms were already beginning to decay.

  “They were…wrapping,” she said, reaching for a metaphor. “Concealment. The spell was the package.”

  “Bloody good package,” said Mr. Grenville, his voice hoarse. “The thorn went straight through my glove.”

  “Should I—?” Olivia started to rise, thinking of defenses. “All the students are indoors and being watched, but if there’s more someone should do…”

  Mr. Grenville shook his head. “Not just now. The wards hold. Anyone who could get past them wouldn’t have bothered with roses.”

  The door opened again. It could have been a maid, it could have been one of the students, but Olivia knew it was Gareth even before she glanced backward and met his eyes.

  Any hopes she’d had about their attraction dying out now that they’d acted on it had clearly been vain ones. The time and place quelled some of the energy Olivia felt when she looked at Gareth, and so did her exhaustion, but it was still there, like a faint but constant whisper.

  She looked down quickly, and Gareth looked past her, letting his breath out as he approached the bed. “Simon…my God, you’re a quick healer.”