A Countess by Chance (3 page)

He stalked closer to her, causing her to retreat farther behind the palm. They were completely concealed from the rest of the guests now, which was sure to raise eyebrows. “Oh, yes you are, love. Mark my words, before the week is out, you will be begging for it.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “That’s where
you
are wrong, my lord. While I’m willing to concede your win, however undeserved, I will offer you this challenge—” When he opened his mouth to speak, she lifted her hand to stop him. He snapped his mouth shut. “If you can get me to ask for it—” no sense in defining what “it” was, they both knew— “Then my virtue is yours.”

She smiled, confident she’d never ask him to take her virtue. Two years ago, she’d been so close to giving him
everything
. Now, she was older, wiser, and knew better than to tempt disaster. “Another challenge,” he said flatly. “To win what is already mine.”

“You must admit, that race wasn’t entirely fair…” She shrugged. It would give her a chance to even the score, or at the very least, buy some time.

He leaned in, close enough for her to smell his expensive cologne and the musky male scent that was entirely his own. The air around them seemed charged somehow. Energy vibrated between them. Her eyes fluttered closed as his mouth slowly descended toward hers.

One breath. Two…

All the air seemed trapped in her lungs as she waited for his lips to brush against hers, waited for that electric charge to shoot up her spine. The memory of his mouth on hers, their tongues entwined, caused her heart to beat wildly. Several seconds passed…

Her eyes snapped open.

He was still dangerously close, his lips curled up into the semblance of a smile. “Very well, I agree to your terms. But be forewarned, Miss Dewhurst, I can be
very
persuasive.”

Yes, she remembered, too late, that he was exactly right about that.

H
e’d gone mad. Somewhere between last night and this morning, he’d lost what precious little sense he had. No, that wasn’t true. He’d been slowly losing his mind for two endless years. But today, this evening, his madness had reached alarming new heights.

Why couldn’t he simply walk away? Why, for God’s sake, couldn’t he turn his attention toward another, less troublesome female? Any woman between the ages of eighteen and sixty would do, and happily. Virgins, widows, ladies’ maids…the ground was thick with them. But it was Olivia alone who caught and held his attention, Olivia that his heart pounded for, and by God, it was Olivia his body craved.

She was turned away, talking to Wood, and Adam allowed himself a long, leisurely look at her. He couldn’t help himself; he drank in every detail—every alluring blemish, every exquisite flaw. Two years away from her company had starved him, and he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away, even if he’d tried.

Simply put, she was alluring. Damn her for that. Although she was the least adorned female in the room, her simple, emerald green gown fit her curves to perfection. Indeed, it clung to her like a length of wet linen that he itched to peel away. He would taste her then. Every smooth, creamy inch of her, every peak and valley, every dip and curve. With his tongue, he’d torment her, bring her to the brink of oblivion, and then back again, until she was writhing, begging for more.

James appeared beside him, pressed a glass of wine into his hand, then took a sip of his own. “Well, how did your little experiment go?”

Adam continued to stare at Olivia, watching idly as she danced with Wood. “Remind me never to listen to you again.”

She hadn’t reacted to the word “curricle” at all, but what did that prove? Only that he was an idiot for taking James’s advice.

“It went that well?” James’s gaze traveled to Olivia. “She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

“Regrettably,” Adam said.

It took every fleck of self-control, but he managed to stay firmly rooted to the spot, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He scowled.

“Well, there is one other way to tell if she is indeed a virgin…”

Adam glanced at James sharply. “My aim is to torment her, not to ruin her—in the stricter sense, at least.”

James shrugged. “She’s ruined anyway, old man. You might as well give her something to remember. It’s a kindness, really.”

Adam tensed. “Scandal sheets cannot be relied upon for the truth, James, and you well know it.”

She was still a virgin. He would bet his entire fortune on it.

At that moment, the song ended and the dancing couples parted. Adam watched as Wood led Olivia across the room, to the French doors that opened out into the garden. He waited for her to pull away, for her to make some excuse. She didn’t. Instead, she flashed the idiot a dazzling smile and curled her hand around his proffered arm.

Stiffly, he excused himself and stormed out into the garden. The air was brisk, too cold for Olivia to be outside, and with a virtual stranger, no less.

Hundreds of lanterns were lit, dangling from the trees, illuminating the garden in a warm amber glow. Gravel paths veered in every direction, cutting between neatly trimmed shrubberies, forming a sort of maze—the perfect setting for a seduction. He darted to the right, then to the left, always coming up against yet another gravel path.

Then he heard it. Her laughter.

It floated on the breeze, light and musical. Every protective instinct in him clawed to the surface. She was alone with Wood, and he’d made her laugh.
Christ
. Adam usually considered himself a patient, reasonable man, but just now, he wanted nothing more than to shove his fist through Wood’s face.

He followed the lilting tone of her laughter, and found them together, sitting side by side on a stone bench, half concealed by a tall, cone-shaped shrub. They glanced up in unison as Adam approached.

Wood jumped to his feet instantly. “Huntington,” he said quickly. “I was just showing Miss Dewhurst the constellation Andromeda.”

Adam looked down at Olivia, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “Is that so?”

Olivia smiled sweetly—
too
sweetly. She had a teasing glint in her eye. “Indeed. The subject is quite fascinating. Mr. Wood is very knowledgeable.”

Adam glared at her. “Forgive my intrusion—” He turned to Wood, who seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of anger surrounding him. “Mr. Leventhorpe has been looking for you. It appears there is some debate about…” He searched his memory for a topic of significance. “…the legitimacy of
Ceres
as a planet. Perhaps you can settle the argument.”

As anticipated, Wood’s interest was instantly aroused. He bowed, made his apologies, and darted toward the house, eager to impart his extensive knowledge on the subject, no doubt.

“Well, that was uncalled for.” Olivia stood up with an indignant huff. “He was nearly ready to play me at a game of Whist. And lose dismally, I might add.”

She was so enticing when she was angry—her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink, her eyes were bright and lively…and
glaring
at him.

Before he knew himself, he reached out and slipped a hand around her waist, pulling her flush with his body. His mouth swallowed her gasp of surprise, his tongue twining with hers. The kiss was rough, hot, passionate—two years’ worth of hunger and desire.

Skimming his hand down the small of her back, he cupped her backside through the fabric of her dress. She was exquisite, so beautiful, and he loved the way she felt beneath his fingertips—soft, lush,
ripe
…  

As his mouth devoured hers, he pulled her more firmly against his erection, rocking gently. She arched into him with a moan, her softness melting into his hard length. Sliding one hand up, he cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her tight nipple through the fabric of her dress and chemise.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered harshly. “So damn tempting.”

Pulling back slightly, he tugged her neckline down a fraction, freeing her swollen breast from the confines of her gown. Lowering his head, he sucked her left nipple into his mouth. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips, fueling his arousal. She gripped his shoulders to hold herself upright.

“God, you taste sweet,” he murmured against her breast, teasing her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Then he opened his mouth and sucked her deep.

“Yes,” she panted, rubbing against him restlessly. “Please…”

She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, her body begging for more.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby.

Adam broke away, stepping back, putting an arm’s length between them as she quickly righted her bodice.

Christ
: how had he lost control so quickly? All he’d wanted to do was talk to her, ask her what exactly had happened between her and Whitmore. As usual, a quarter of a minute in her presence, and he was lost, reeling…

Raking his hand through his hair, he sucked in a long, steadying breath. With his heart pounding, he could feel heat swirling through his veins like a raging tempest. Every instinct demanded he pull her back into his arms and finish what he’d started.

Voices drifted on the breeze, reminding him that they were still out in the open, exposed to the whole goddamn house.

“Meet me in the conservatory at midnight.”

She blinked up at him and licked her lips, her countenance unreadable. For once, he couldn’t detect the direction of her thoughts.

“Olivia.” His tone was harsh, abrupt. “The conservatory. Midnight.”

Hesitantly, she nodded. Then he turned and walked away—the hardest thing he’d done in two years.

Midnight came and went with little fanfare. Olivia stared at the gilded timepiece on the mantel in the parlor, watching as the hands slowly, painfully ticked past the twelve.

Meeting him would be a costly, regrettable mistake. One minute alone with him and she’d be offering herself up on a silver platter…with all the trimmings! She was nothing if not weak—when it came to him, at least. She wasn’t wanton or easily persuaded—since the unfortunate incident with Whitmore, most gentlemen had tried, and failed, to take liberties. Her father had taught her how to effectively gouge an eye, which had spared her on more than one occasion.

But Adam was different. Her heart fluttered when he walked into a room; all her senses instantly attuned to his presence. Her thoughts were cast back to that morning, to the sharp flick of his crop against her backside, to the intense pleasure that followed.

Licking her lips, she glanced at the timepiece. Quarter past.

She could still go to him, she reasoned.

Taking another sip of her wine, she tried to push the laughable thought out of her head. Go to him—ha!—as though she would just scurry off and allow him to claim his “prize.” Though, to be sure, the thought itself was anything but laughable. Her blood heated at the mere thought of his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs slowly caressing her nipples through the fabric of her dress and chemise.

Shifting, she squinted, trying hard to grasp what Annabelle was driveling on about. A reclusive duke was due to arrive, or some such. Whatever she was saying, Olivia hadn’t the patience to care. In the conservatory, a dashing, titled, entirely delicious man was waiting for her…and she was foolish enough to be in this room, chatting about dukes she didn’t give a whit about.

She wanted
Adam
. More than that, she needed him. It prickled her pride to admit it, even to herself, but it could no longer be denied.

Abruptly, she excused herself and rushed down the hall, her slippered feet moving quickly beneath her. Undiluted anticipation swept over her. The conservatory door was open, just a crack. Slowly, she pushed it open and slipped inside. The room was cold and black as pitch. Her heart galloped.

She swallowed and stepped deeper into the room. “Hello?”

Cold, empty silence.

Well, she certainly felt foolish, standing alone in the dark. Perhaps he’d already come and gone, or perhaps he’d never come at all. She stood there a moment, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Some distance away, a tall, imposing shadow loomed.

Adam.

Her heart raced as she inched forward.

Perhaps he’d forgiven her after all. She hadn’t dared hope for it, but with him here, tonight, hope began trickling in.  

Smiling, she inched closer, reached out one hand…and felt the smooth, leafy texture of a fern. A
fern
!

She bristled. “Oh! I’m going to
strangle
him.”

Any anxiety she’d felt had melted into shame, humiliation, and anger—but it was anger that sparked to life in her chest. With an undignified huff, she turned and swept out the door.

She’d almost reached the parlor when she saw him.

Leaning against the doorframe, talking to Annabelle.
Of course
. Worse, there wasn’t any way to sneak back into the parlor unnoticed. He stood at the threshold, guarding it, almost as though he
wanted
to catch her slinking back into the room like a naughty child.

For half a second, she contemplated escaping to her bedroom. But the Dewhurst pride wouldn’t allow retreat. No, she would brush past him and rejoin the party as though nothing had happened—as though she hadn’t just tried to seduce a plant, for heaven’s sake.

Straightening, chin up, she moved toward the door. Breath held, she brushed past the couple, only to be stopped short by Annabelle’s lilting voice. “Miss Dewhurst!” Annabelle’s dainty hand reached out and caught Olivia by the wrist. “Come, you must help me persuade Lord Huntington to dance. He’s being quite obstinate.”

“Oh, I…” Olivia’s gaze shifted to Adam, who looked rather amused by her flustered response. Damn him! “I’m afraid it’s a useless cause. I don’t believe Lord Huntington dances.”

He’d once confessed to Olivia that he’d never had the patience to learn.

He spread his arms out. “You see? A hopeless case. Miss Dewhurst is wise to concede.” He emphasized the last word, his eyes flicking down the hall, from where she’d emerged, then back toward her. “Taking a stroll, were you?”

He’d left her standing in the conservatory, alone, on
purpose
.

A self-satisfied smile twisted his lips, making him look even
more
handsome, if that were possible—a fact which filled Olivia with hot, explosive fury. How dare he smirk at her, and then have the audacity to look
irresistible
while doing so.

She clenched her hands into fists, resisting the urge to slap that smug look off his face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d riled her. She turned to Annabelle. “No, in fact; I was just looking for your brother, Annabelle. Our earlier conversation was
rudely
interrupted, and I find I am still quite curious about the constellations and what have you.”

Adam’s smirk instantly melted into a scowl. That was more like it.

She smiled sweetly and left in search of Mr. Wood.