And when at last he retired, he couldn’t think of anything but her. And the past and the future. Until at last he rose from his bed and headed to the library. Work had always taken his mind off other matters. Admittedly, for nearly ten years, he had had nothing on his mind but work. He passed her room and resisted the urge, the need, to knock. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair and repeated what was fast becoming as much a motto to attempt to live by as carpe diem.
Patience was a virtue.
Olivia had no intention of retiring for the night after dinner. Instead, she did what she should have done long ago. She finally studied her late husband’s will. She had glanced at it, of course. It would have been irresponsible not to. She had even taken it with her to Egypt and Italy with the very best of intentions but somehow could never quite bring herself to read it with the care she knew she should devote to it.
Now, she really had no choice. It was either study the will or think about Sterling. And thinking about Sterling clouded her mind with thoughts of the future and whether or not she could trust him with her heart. It was a silly debate really; she knew the answer. But was she ready to abandon her dreams of independence for the desires of her heart? Josiah’s comment on the voyage from Italy lingered in the back of her mind. What did she really want, and what was she willing to sacrifice to get it?
Her bags had been unpacked, and the few guidebooks she had accumulated along with the will sat neatly stacked on the lady’s desk in her rooms. She sat down, drew a deep breath, and began to read the document, ignoring the rush of anger that swept through her with every word. Anger would not serve her well. She needed to remain rational and keep her wits about her. Surely there was something in it that would help with the final challenge. Some minor point that might well spell victory.
She read the will thoroughly three times, then studied the section regarding the completion of his collections. Her heart sank. There was nothing unexpected. Still, she read until her eyes burned with weariness, and she was too tired to continue. Perhaps in the morning she would have Sterling look at it. He was far better versed in legal matters than she. At last she set the document aside and fell exhausted into bed, falling asleep almost at once. To dream of pages and pages of words all jumbled together, and dark brown eyes filled with desire and love, and ancient artifacts lost and found and something just out of reach . . .
Her eyes snapped open and at once she was fully awake. Good Lord, the answer was so simple, so very obvious. She should have seen it sooner. Or Sterling should have realized it or Josiah. Triumph flooded through her, and she leapt out of bed, pulled on her robe, grabbed the appropriate page of the will, and headed for Sterling’s room. A light shone under his door. Excellent, he was awake. She knocked softly so as not to wake anyone else, then pushed the door open.
His bed was empty, although it had obviously been slept in. She heaved a frustrated sigh. Damnation, she was tired of not finding him in the bed he was expected to be in. There was no light in the adjoining parlor. Perhaps, he was in his library. It would be just like him to want to see exactly what had transpired in the management of the family’s affairs in his absence. She hurried down the hall, nearly tripped in her haste down the stairs, and indeed there was a light showing under the library door.
She pushed open the door to find Sterling at his desk, in his nightclothes and dressing gown. His head jerked up at the interruption, and he stared at her wide-eyed as if she were a specter. “Livy?”
She laughed. “Of course. Whom did you expect?”
His brows pulled together. “Not you. What are you doing here at this hour?”
She approached his desk. “I might ask you the same question.” She adopted a chastising tone. “Are you back to being the stiff and stodgy lord who has nothing but obligations and responsibilities in his life?”
He stared at her for a moment, then smiled. “No. I simply couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, I am glad you’re here. I went to your room first, but you weren’t in your bed.”
“And for that I shall be forever sorry.” He grinned, then his eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“I want you to look at this.” She set the paper down with a flourish. “What strikes you about this wording?”
He studied the page for a moment, then looked up at her. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Look at it again.”
He did and again shook his head. “I still don’t see . . .”
She came around the desk, leaned over and tapped on the paper. “Read this line, where it says I am to complete the collections.”
“Very well.” He read the line. “It says you’re to complete the collections.”
“And?”
“And?” He shook his head in a helpless manner. “And what?”
“It doesn’t say I have to own the collections; nor does it say I have to be in possession of the collections. Only that I have to complete them.”
He stared at her and, finally, realization broke in his eyes. “Good God.”
“All we have to do is bring the three seals together, and the collection is complete.” Triumph filled her. “The very moment we do that, the seal, and everything else, belongs to me, and I can promptly donate the seal to the society.”
“Livy.” He rose to his feet and grinned. “You’ve won.”
“No, Sterling.” She threw her arms around him. “We’ve won.” A moment later her lips were pressed to his. Triumph mingled with passion, and desire exploded between them. His kiss deepened, and her arms tightened around him.
She slipped her hands under his dressing gown and pushed it off his shoulders so that it fell to the floor. She shrugged out of her robe, and it joined his. He gathered her nightgown in his hands, drew it over her head, and tossed it aside. Then he discarded his nightshirt, and their naked bodies pressed together in need and desire and victory.
She leaned back against his desk, and his mouth left hers to explore her throat and breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his shoulders and his back, his muscles defined and powerful beneath her fingers. She let her head fall back and gloried in the feel of his mouth, and his hands and the warmth of his flesh. Her breath came faster, and she wanted him to join with her, to take her, to possess her. He suckled one breast, then the next, and she braced her hands on the desk behind her and arched toward him. His lips trailed lower to her stomach, and she moaned with the sheer sensation of his touch.
“I should lock the door,” he murmured against her.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, but he didn’t, and she didn’t care.
He paused for no more than the beat of a heart and swept the items on his desk onto the floor save for the lamp on the far corner. In the back of her mind, a practical voice noted that the inkwell would leave a nasty stain on the carpet, but she didn’t care. She sank back on the desk, her toes barely skimming the floor. Her legs fell open, and she ached to feel him inside her.
His hands caressed her breasts, and his mouth returned to tease her skin. His tongue traced a trail down her stomach and lower. She moaned and clutched his shoulders. He slid his hands lightly down her sides, then along the tops of her legs until he slipped his hands between her thighs. His fingers parted her, and his tongue flicked over her. Pleasure, pure and strong, shot through her, and she gasped with the intensity of it.
“Oh, God, Sterling . . .”
He toyed with her with teeth and tongue until she thought she could stand no more, and yet she wanted more. And wondered if he could feel her throb against his mouth. She hovered on the edge of bliss, and her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging more.
At last, he raised his head, straightened, and positioned himself at the entrance to her sex. He smiled down at her, stared into her eyes, and slowly slid into her. She thought she would swoon at the exquisite feel of him filling her, at the pleasure of being one with him again. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper and deeper into her. Into her body,
into her soul.
He pulled out of her with an agonizingly measured move, prolonging the pleasure, allowing her to feel every inch of him. He slid out until only the tip of him touched her. And she ached and throbbed and urged his return with the heels of her feet against his back. And when she thought she would scream in frustration, he drove hard into her, and she cried out with pleasure. His thrusts came harder and faster and deeper, and she rocked her hips against him, urging him ever harder and faster and deeper.
“Livy.” Her name was little more than a groan from his lips.
Familiar, lovely tension coiled within her. She gripped his hips and met his thrusts with her own.
Without warning he withdrew, pulled her to her feet, swiftly turned her around, and bent her forward over the desk. For a moment she tensed, then aching need vanquished all reserve. He held her waist and slid into her.
She rested her forearms on the desk and lost herself in the feel of his joining with her. He drove into her again and again, her pleasure growing, spiraling upward with every stroke. She had never known, never imagined . . . And his pleasure was hers.
“Oh, God, Livy . . .” He thrust again and his body shuddered against her and the warmth of his seed flooded through her.
“No, Sterling, please . . .” She fairly sobbed with need and wanting. Wanting that place he’d taken her to before.
He curled around her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and slipped the other hand between her thighs, his fingers caressing her sex. He thrust into her again, and bliss exploded within her. Her body jerked and shuddered against his. Wave after wave of exquisite sensation washed over her, through her, and captured her soul.
He swept her into his arms, carried her to the sofa, and lay down beside her, wrapping his body around hers. Warm and comforting and . . . right.
She giggled. “So much for the stiff and stodgy Earl of Wyldewood.”
He snorted back a laugh. “Well, stodgy anyway. As for stiff . . .”
She laughed and buried her head in his neck.
“Once more you have ruined me.”
“Good,” she murmured against him. She could stay in his arms like this for the rest of her days.
He idly stroked her hair and her back, and they lay together until her heart resumed its natural beat. At last she raised her head and smiled into his eyes. “I should be getting back to my rooms.”
“Yes, you should.” He paused. “We do need to talk you know.”
She sighed. “Yes, I know, but not now. Not until this is all resolved.”
“Very well. But then . . .” A warning sounded in his voice.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Then.”
She slipped off the sofa, quickly found her nightclothes, and threw them on. By the time she turned around, Sterling too had dressed.
He pulled her into his arms kissed her soundly once again then released her and gently pushed her toward the door. “Go, now, or I shall never let you go.”
She laughed and moved to the door, grabbed the handle, and looked back at him. “Do you really think we’ve found the answer?”
“No, I think you have found the answer.”
She met his gaze. “Thank you. For everything.”
He grinned. “It’s the least I can do.”
She returned his smile, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind her, her smile fading with the close of the door.
The least he could do. Because no matter what he said, she would always be an obligation to him, a debt unpaid.
And that was no way to start a future.
Twenty-four
“And that, Mr. Beckworth, is what I propose.”
Livy sat in the director’s office, serene, composed, and confident. She gave no sign of the enormity of the stakes involved and had presented her proposal with a calm authority. This was a woman any man would be proud to call his own. Not merely because she was beautiful but because she was intelligent and had a quiet strength about her. Sterling’s heart swelled.
Merrill Beckworth, the director of the Antiquities Society studied her carefully. His wife, a lovely woman some twenty years younger than Beckworth, sat in a chair behind and slightly to the right of her portly husband. Sterling and several other board members had long suspected it was Caroline Beckworth who truly ran the society. Not that it mattered. The London Antiquities Society had an excellent reputation and was indeed one of the preeminent organizations of its kind in the world.
“I find your proposal most interesting, Lady Rathbourne,” Beckworth said, his words measured. “Your late husband was a valued member of the society with a fine eye for antiquities. While few have seen his collections, their distinction is unquestioned.” He paused. “I should tell you as well that we are aware of the odd stipulations of his will.”
Livy smiled politely. “I daresay, by now, there are few in London who are not.”
“No doubt.” Beckworth nodded. “You are to be commended on your success thus far.”
Livy’s smile remained, but she held her tongue. And indeed it was her success. Sterling had provided the means and had been instrumental in acquiring the canopic jar, but it had been her idea to barter the Titian, and it was she who had recognized the loophole in the will. Even at this meeting, he had said little save initial greetings. No, this was her triumph alone.
“Your opinion, Lord Wyldewood.” Beckworth addressed Sterling. “As a member of the board, that is.”
“Obviously, as I accompanied Lady Rathbourne today, I am in complete support of her proposal,” Sterling said coolly. “The seals in and of themselves are priceless but to have all three, well, it’s an archeological accomplishment of unparalleled significance.”
“To have the seals that might hold the key to the Virgin’s Secret would greatly enhance the society’s stature,” Mrs. Beckworth said quietly. “And I daresay, increase our donations.”
Beckworth sighed. “Funding is always a problem.”
“I am well aware of that.” Sterling’s gaze slid from Beckworth to his wife and back. “Any number of donors I know would be quite impressed by the society’s possession of such a prestigious collection.”
“Quite right.” Beckworth nodded. “I think Lady Rathbourne’s proposal will benefit all concerned. And while I certainly have full authority in this matter, there is the question of having Lord Rathbourne’s name on the collection to consider.”
Livy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I,” Sterling added in a hard tone.
“If this collection were being donated as a whole, that is, if the set of all three seals already bore Lord Rathbourne’s name, there would be no difficulty whatsoever. As it is, you are asking us to name a collection, two-thirds of which already belongs to the society.” Beckworth shook his head. “It is most irregular.”
“One would think, given the importance of this collection, the name on it would not matter,” Livy said.
“One would think,” Mrs. Beckworth echoed under her breath.
“Especially as my late husband was a member, and I believe patron, of this organization.”
“Nonetheless,” Beckworth said firmly. “I shall have to have the approval of the board.”
“I cannot imagine any board member’s objecting given what the society has to gain,” Sterling said pointedly.
“Nor can I. However.” Beckworth shrugged. “This is not a decision I can make without the board’s approval.”
“Then we shall simply have to get the board’s approval,” Livy said with a pleasant smile.
“I would suspect few of them are in town at this time of year.” Sterling stared at the director. “Is it necessary to have the approval of all fifteen board members?”
“If we had them all in the same room a simple majority vote would suffice but . . .” Beckworth shifted in his chair, as if trying to find a comfortable position that obviously had nothing to do with how he was seated. “Lady Rathbourne, may I speak candidly?”
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br /> “Please do.”
“Your late husband was not, I’m not sure how to phrase this, well liked. To have his name on a collection of this magnitude—”
“I understand completely. We shall simply have to hope the prestige of the society’s possessing all three seals will overcome any distaste at naming the collection after my late husband.” Livy nodded. “I assume a simple letter of agreement from each board member will suffice in this matter?”
“Yes, indeed, that will serve,” Beckworth said with relief.
“We shall proceed with that at once then and contact you when we have the approval of the board members.” Livy rose to her feet, and the other men followed. “Good day, Mr. Beckworth, Mrs. Beckworth.”
Sterling studied the director. “I must say, I did not expect you to be such a stickler for rules, Mr. Beckworth.”
“My lord.” The director peered at him over the rims of his glasses. “You would have it no other way.”
“No, I suppose not.” Sterling nodded and bid the couple good day. A few minutes later, he and Livy were in a carriage returning to Harrington House.
Livy was remarkably quiet on the return drive as she had been all day. Initially, Sterling had assumed that the gravity of their mission had occupied her mind. Now, he wondered if there was more to it than that. He pushed the thought away. After last night, what could possibly be wrong?
They found Josiah waiting in the parlor for them.
“I have spoken to Mr. Hollis about your discovery, and he agrees that your plan will indeed meet the stipulations of the will.” The young man paused. “He has also instructed me to continue to assist you in whatever way possible. I believe he has had an attack of conscience regarding his failure to disclose the time constraints although he claims it was an oversight on his part.”
Sterling chuckled. “I suspect it was not an attack of conscience as much as financial considerations and his hope that Olivia will continue to employ his firm.”
Josiah nodded. “That is my impression as well.”
A thought struck him, and he studied the solicitor. “How did you know about this?”
Desires of a Perfect Lady Page 28