by Gill, Tamara
He ground his teeth, hating the idea of Oglemoore marrying the woman standing before him, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. He was a bastard, and he deserved to go to hell talking to her as he had done.
Fool.
"I do not understand the attraction you had for him, my friend or no. He chose another, played you a fool. Do you not want a marriage full of desire and love? An all-encompassing union you cannot get enough of? One that has respect above anything else?"
She sniffed, meeting his gaze. "Of course I do, and I will not accept anyone's offer of marriage unless I have all those things. I want Oglemoore to pay for his treatment of me, nothing more. He has not learned his lesson yet, I think."
Her words sent a frisson of hope to course through his blood. So, she wasn't so set on Oglemoore that she would dismiss him out of hand.
Jasper stilled at his own thoughts. Dismiss him? What on earth was wrong with him? He did not want a wife. If Olivia did not stand before him, he'd smack his own self about the ears.
He pulled her into his arms, running his hands over her back, giving comfort. "I did not mean what I said, Olivia," he whispered against her neck. Her slight nod of acceptance tore at his heart, and he kissed her shoulder.
Hell, she smelled divine, clean. Like a room full of hothouse flowers. They stood so close he could feel her chest rise and fall against his. The slight shiver that stole through her when his lips brushed her skin. Unsated, he took the small lobe of her ear into his mouth and suckled it.
Thankfully she wore no earrings, and it allowed him to tease her, kiss her as much as he wanted.
"You should not be kissing me, Jasper. This is against the rules we've just been arguing about, is it not? Your demand for our fake liaison to be over."
Oh yes, he wanted it over with, but not for the reasons she thought. He wanted her for himself. Having her in his arms again, having spent the past three days thinking of no one but Miss Olivia Quinton told him there was something peculiar about his attachment to the chit.
He knew what that regard was now. He no longer wanted to help his friend keep her away from him, so he may win Lady Athol Scott’s affections. Oh no, holding Olivia now told Jasper that he wanted her in his bed.
The thought of her marrying another, being courted by anyone else, was like a stake to the heart, and he would not allow it to occur.
She pulled back, looking up to meet his gaze. "If you do not wish to continue with my plan, I understand. It does not mean that we cannot remain friends."
Friends? Oh no, no, no, that would never do. He wanted to be her lover and nothing less. "No more talking, Olivia." He dragged her against him, holding her face in his hands. "Kiss me," he begged, brushing his lips against hers. "Just kiss me and erase the memory of me seeing you in Oglemoore's arms."
She gasped, kissing him back. Her arms wrapped about his neck as her mouth slammed against his. It was hot, delicious, and hard. His blood pumped fast in his veins. He bent down, clasping her thighs and picking her up. She understood his motive and hooked her feet about his back. Her core pressed against his cock, hard and aching in his breeches.
Jasper closed the few steps to the wall and pushed her up against the silk wallpaper. She moaned through the kiss as he used the extra support to thrust against her heat. Stars burst behind his eyes, and he wanted to flick open his breeches, free his cock, and sheath himself in her warmth.
She moaned, pressing against him. "You make me want things I do not understand."
Oh, God almighty, she made him want things he never thought to want or need too. "As do you," he admitted, kissing her yet again, determined this time not to leave her longing for more, but to ensure she found pleasure from him and him only.
Chapter 12
Olivia was not herself, nor did she care where she was. Music continued to play somewhere in the house, laughter and clinking of glasses and plates sounded, but she pushed it all to the side, focusing on the man in her arms.
Concentrating on what that particular man was doing to her.
Her body burned, ebbed, and flowed with a need she could not sate. He was doing something to her, but what that was she could not fathom.
She clutched at his shoulders, scoring her nails into his skin as a tremble teased her most sensitive flesh. "I want more, Jasper. Please, help me."
He mumbled words that no well-bred woman ought to be privy to, and then she was standing again on her silk slippers, Jasper breathing ragged and hard before her. He looked like a wild man, unkempt and completely disheveled.
Olivia ran her hand through his hair, pulling it to bring him close for a kiss. "You are too handsome for your own good. Do you know that?"
His eyes burned into hers, and a wicked light shone back at her through his blue orbs. "The same could be said of you, Olivia."
And then she felt it, his hand, sliding up her leg and pooling her gown at her waist. He slipped his fingers between her legs, brushing his hand across her mons. She ought to feel embarrassed at his touch, push him away, mortified he dare touch her there, but she could not bring herself to care.
His fingers softly rolled a particular place, and her legs threatened to buckle. Olivia rested her head against the wall and gave in to his touch. What was he doing to her?
Bliss, utter, decadent pleasure rolled through her as he worked his magic touch against her flesh. Like a wanton she had not known she was, she parted her legs, giving him admittance.
"That's it, my darling. Open for me. Let me touch you."
Oh, she'd let him touch her as much as he liked if this is what he made her feel. Like her body was not her own. Taunting and teasing her toward a pinnacle she imagined quite wonderful, but wasn't for sure certain.
He kissed her, deep and long, all the while his touch never abated. He overwhelmed her, and she clutched at him, her only means of grounding, and then it happened. With each stroke of his hand, pleasure rocked through her body, thrumming at her core and bursting into light.
Olivia gasped his name, riding his hand like a woman outside of herself. All she knew was that she wanted more of what he had given her. Was not ready for this to end.
Where had Hamlyn been all her life, and why on earth had she taken so long to find him?
She slumped against the wall and knew she had a silly, self-satisfied smile on her lips. Olivia did not care. Jasper kissed her neck while he righted her gown.
"You're so beautiful. I shall never forget you coming apart in my hands, Olivia. You're truly magnificent."
Olivia opened her eyes, leaning forward to wrap her arms tighter about his neck. "I had no idea that such a thing was possible between a man and a woman. Can I do something similar to you to bring you joy?"
His eyes scorched her at her words, and she knew the answer to her question before he replied. "Oh yes, you certainly can, but not here. I should not have touched you in such a public place where anyone could have come across us. It was foolhardy of me."
She grinned, brushing her lips against his. "But so very worth it." And now that she'd done this once, she would do it again. Something told her there was more to know and enjoy in a man's arms, and she couldn't wait to find out what.
* * *
The following evening Jasper stood beside Oglemoore and fought to keep his patience with his friend. The man was becoming a menace, and not only that, a gentleman who he doubted knew his own mind.
"I thought you were going to ask Lady Athol for her hand in marriage? You're now saying that you're unsure who you want to be your wife?"
Oglemoore shrugged, sipping his wine. "Lady Athol, rumor has it, has been seen taking the air in Hyde Park with Lord Dormer. You know the fellow, the one who wanted to bloody my nose back at Eton." He shook his head, his lips thinning into a displeased line. "I'm unsure what her feelings are toward me now that we're both back in London."
Jasper schooled his features and bit back the words of telling his friend that karma was an unfortunate mistress and one that Oglemo
ore had obviously suffered from. He'd played Olivia last Season, threw her aside for her friend, and now had the same happen to him. Jasper ought to feel sorry for him, but he could not. After treating Olivia with so little respect, he could not help but be glad Oglemoore had missed out on both the women.
"I think you should stop our game with Miss Quinton. That will allow me the opportunity to court her during the last weeks of the Season. I'm certain she will be amenable to my interest, and should I ask her, I think she will marry me."
Jasper massaged his temple, trying to stop the incessant ache that thumped there. "You no longer want me to distract Miss Quinton away from you as I have been these last few weeks. What if someone else catches your interest in town, and you throw her over yet again? I do not think you should court Miss Quinton a second time."
Oglemoore gaped at him, clearly affronted. "And whyever not? She is not engaged or attached. You do not see her in a romantic light. The only reason you speak to her at all is because of my bidding. Do not tell me you've grown a conscience since I asked you to help me. That is unlike you, Hamlyn."
It may have been what he was like before he'd grown to know Olivia, but the thought of her being hurt for a second time by Oglemoore would not do. He would not allow his friend to play Olivia the fool no matter how many years they had known each other.
"Miss Quinton deserves better than being your second or third choice. Move on and find another to marry."
Oglemoore frowned, sensing Jasper's ire, which was simmering to a boil. "I will not play her a fool again. I promise you that, my friend." Oglemoore clapped him on the back as if all were forgiven, and Hamlyn was merely playing a protective father. He was not. In no way would he allow Oglemoore to change his mind on a whim and think everything was perfectly well.
"I see Weston has arrived. I need to speak to him about his gelding he means to auction at Tattersalls. I may be interested in him if the price is right," Elliott said as he moved away.
Jasper watched as his friend moved off into the throng of guests. He narrowed his eyes, not caring for his words or his plans for Olivia. Jasper may have started out keeping Olivia distracted enough that she would not grow too upset about Oglemoore's attention toward her friend, but things had changed now. They were close, most certainly friends, even more than that.
He spied her across the room, smiling and chatting with the Duchess of Carlton. Oglemoore moved past her, certainly within her notice, and she did not glance his way or proceed to wish him a pleasant evening. Had Jasper been a betting man, he would have laid money she had not noticed his friend at all.
The thought pleased him, and he finished the last of his drink, a quiet calm settling over him that Olivia would not be so foolish as to allow Oglemoore another chance at winning her hand. Surely his time with her, even if she thought that time false due to their understanding, would make her see that not all men were the same. That there were men in the world who would like her for who she was, her kindness, sweet nature, pleasant self… Not simply because she was available, and it was time for the gentleman to choose a bride.
Olivia deserved to have a marriage of love. Anything less would be a waste of her life.
Later that night, he caught up to her as she was entering the supper room, thankfully on her own. He sidled up to her, dipping his head to ensure privacy. "Would you care to take supper with me, Miss Quinton?" he asked, reveling in the pleasure that bloomed on her handsome features.
"Of course," she gushed, coming to a stop behind the line of guests already waiting to choose their meal. "I did not know you were going to be here this evening. Did I not hear that you best Lord Lindhurst in a sparring match at Gentleman Jacksons, and he still has not forgiven you?"
Jasper laughed, remembering the day well. "Ladies are not supposed to know details such as those. Who told you?"
She shrugged, taking a plate from a footman and studying the selection of food laid out before them. "I forget who relayed the gossip, but he is, from what I understand, still quite put out. I'm surprised they allowed you entry."
"I'm the Duke of Hamlyn, there are few who would not admit me." Jasper picked up two crab cakes and a lobster tail. "He has asked for a rematch, and perhaps I shall let him win that bout, merely to keep the peace."
She turned with a plate laden with her selections. "That is very kind of you. I doubt I would be so charitable. I dislike losing as well, you know."
They made their way over to a table for two, seating themselves. "Is that why you asked me to help you with Oglemoore? Simply because you wanted revenge so desperately?"
She threw him a sheepish look. "In part, it was wrong of him to court me only to throw me aside when he deemed me not actually what he wanted. However, I do think that our ruse has paid off. He was questioning me at last night's ball, similarly to how he was toward me last year. I cannot help but think that Athol's disinterest in him since her return to town and your marked attentions toward me have reminded Oglemoore what he's thrown aside." She chuckled. “The poor man is wasting his time with me, I’m happy to report.”
Jasper chewed his lobster, taking his time to cool his annoyance at Oglemoore’s renewed attentions. "For what it is worth, I do believe you can do better than Oglemoore. He is my friend, yes, but even I am not blind to his faults. He should not have treated you the way he has. I'm sorry he hurt you."
A smile touched the corners of her lips. Her gaze bored into him, and he hoped it was interest for him he read in her eyes and not Oglemoore.
Heat licked his skin, and he had the overwhelming desire to reach out, touch her, anywhere, her hand, her cheek, a lock of hair, just so long as he was touching her.
"I no longer want Oglemoore, Jasper," she whispered, holding his gaze.
He took a calming breath, his heart pounding. What did that mean? "May I escort you home this evening?" To ask such a question was scandalous. He ought not, but nor did he want to leave her side. Jasper told himself it was to ensure she arrived home safely. She had no living parents and a questionable chaperone, so a gentleman ought to step up at times.
"That is kind of you, but you need not do that. I can catch a hackney home. It is not far in any case." She smiled, taking a sip of her champagne. "I could probably walk from here, all told."
He shook his head. "No, I could not allow that." Just the thought of her walking home sent a chill down his spine.
"When did you wish to depart?" she asked. "I am ready to leave whenever you are."
His body tightened at the thought of having her alone in his carriage. Five minutes or five hours, he would take whatever he could. "When you've finished your meal, we can leave. I'm at your service."
She raised her brows. "How delightful that sounds. I shall hold you to that, Your Grace."
He almost groaned. Oh, please do.
They finished their meal and separately made their goodbyes to their hosts, before coming together on the front steps of the London home. His black carriage, pulled by two gray mares, rolled to a stop not long after.
A footman opened the door, and Jasper helped her up into the carriage. He called out the address before joining her. He sat opposite, waiting for the carriage to lurch forward before closing the blinds. If he had minutes only, he wanted to make full use of them.
Her eyes glistened in the dark, and it was only every now and then when they passed a street lamp that he saw her pretty face. He untied the blinds, letting them down.
"Why the privacy? Are you planning something, Your Grace?"
He opened the small portal near the driver's chair and told his man to drive about Mayfair. "If I were," he said, turning back to face her, "would you think bad of me?"
She shook her head, a small curl bounced across her shoulder. "No," she whispered, her attention snapping to his lips. She bit her own, and his body roared with need. Although uncertain what was happening between them, the game they started to play had morphed into something so much different.
So much more.
Chapter 13
The carriage rumbled down the street, the driver taking pains not to take the corners too sharp. Olivia did not feel like herself. The look in Jasper's eyes left her feeling as if there was something in the air, something about to happen.
Between them.
For herself, she wanted Jasper to take her in his arms, to touch her, kiss her, be with her as he was the other night at the ball. His steely gaze did not shift from her person, and by the time he did speak, she was squirming on the leather squabs.
"Thank you for letting me take you home this evening, Olivia. I will admit to wanting to be alone with you all evening."
Olivia bit her lip, having watched him all evening, wanting to be alone just as they were now. Never had she wanted to be with anyone as much as she had wanted to be with Jasper. Oglemoore was nothing but a figment of her past imagination.
She patted the seat at her side and smiled as he came to sit beside her without a word. Her breathing increased, and she all but sizzled with a longing for him to touch her. Unable to wait a moment longer, she closed the space between them, taking his lips in a searing kiss and giving herself what she'd coveted since supper.
He kissed her back, clasping her face and tipping her head to deepen the kiss. His hands moved over her body, where she could not say until they clasped her breast. She sighed, loving his touch. He kneaded one, rolling the nipple between his fingers.
Olivia pushed herself into his hands. This was what it was like to be adored, to be wanted. She could get used to being with a man in such a way, and not just any man, but Jasper.
"You drive me to distraction," he gasped, kissing her jaw, her neck, swift nibbles toward her ear.
"I want to feel you. Let me touch you, Jasper," she whispered. He slipped the bodice of her gown down, taking a moment to admire her. His eyes burned a path across her body before he dipped his head and paid homage to one nipple.