Stephanie James (12 page)

Her body shivered, but she was not cold. She knew kissing a man who was not her husband was wrong, but she loved the way his mouth moved over hers, the way his beard-roughened skin felt against her face. She knew lying atop a man who was not her husband was
very wrong
, indeed, but she was intrigued by the strong and solid feel of his body. He felt so different from the softness that comprised her own body that the very thought sent chills down her back. It was exhilarating.

Her heart was beating thunderously and she had the oddest, yet most pleasant, sensation pulling in the pit of her stomach where hunger usually raged, but it did not feel like hunger at all. It was more like a shocking pang, but it felt as if it needed to be fed. It made her feel restless somehow. What did it mean?

Surrounded by the forceful waves of these new sensations, Olivia forgot about everything. She forgot about herself, propriety, and how she had decided to hate this man forever, along with how eager she had been to escape him earlier this morning. All the hatred she had declared to possess for this man had somehow been changed in an instant to desire with the first touch of his lips. None of it mattered now in light of the passion that he had managed to ignite within her.

Each movement he made was thrilling. Olivia felt his fingers tangle themselves in her hair and pull. She opened her mouth slightly in response and gasped in surprise when his tongue glazed over the crease of her lips, and then she moaned her pleasure when the offending tongue seized the opportunity to slip past her parted lips. She had no idea kissing could be this invasive.

But she liked it. And so she kissed him back again and again as best she could, using his movements as a template for her own unpracticed technique.

Philip’s hands untangled themselves from her hair and began moving seductively up and down her back. His thick wool coat was still wrapped around her body, preventing Olivia from feeling the heat of his touch. She wriggled her arms free of it, suddenly feeling too restricted within its bonds.

He must have realized her desire to be free of the coat because as soon as Olivia freed her arms, he finished the job for her and yanked the garment away from her body completely. She moved her newly freed hands to the collar of his shirt and pulled. Though she did not mean for it to happen, her action caused the first two buttons to pop off. Without thinking, Olivia slid her hands inside Philip’s shirt and over the skin of his shoulders. The muscles there were tensed and solid and gloriously masculine. She dug her nails into his skin when he began kissing her jaw and then her neck.

His hands were moving over her body again — up and down her back and then finally over the curve of her buttocks. He squeezed her roughly before rolling over so that their positions were changed, and he was the one lying atop her now, between her legs.

But now the sensations were too much for Olivia.

Her chemise was pushed up past her knees and she was wearing only thin undergarments beneath. She could feel, with the most sensitive and sacred part of her body, a curious hardness pressing against her, and she did not like it. Was it part of his clothes? Was it part of him? Whatever it was, it was far too foreign and frightening for comfort.

Olivia pulled her mouth away from his and tried to push him away with her hands. “Stop,” she said as she gasped for air, but he did not hear her. He kept pressing his body against hers. Olivia’s passion was changing quickly now to fear. He was being far too rough with her now. “Stop,” she said again, this time at a higher volume, and Lord Philip stopped moving at once.

His breathing was very heavy for a few moments before he whispered: “Good God, what have I done?” But he did not move.

Olivia dug her feet into the ground and tried desperately to push her body out from under Lord Philip’s. What did he mean by “What have I done”? Was she with child now? Olivia had no way of knowing exactly how a woman conceived, but she imagined what she and Lord Philip had just finished doing was part of the process. But at what point during all the petting and kissing did a woman fall with child?
Oh God,
she begged in silent prayer,
please don’t let me have got with child!

Once she was free of Lord Philip’s embrace, she made a mad dash for his coat. “Stay away from me!” she yelled.

• • •

Philip was sitting back on his knees, his head spinning from the reality of what had just happened. He had kissed and touched a woman with whom he did not have the right to such liberties. And worse: that woman had been Miss Olivia Winter, the daughter of his business partner. Good God, how could he have abandoned his senses so thoroughly?

Because she was wet and warm and willing,
he thought.
Because she smelled wonderful and felt wonderful and looked wonderful.

Philip rose to his feet and noticed that as he pulled himself up from the ground, Olivia backed away from him.

“Olivia,” he pleaded, and stretched out his hands in surrender. “Olivia, please. We need to discuss what just happened.”

Olivia’s grip on Philip’s coat tightened as though she believed it would protect her against him.

“I do not wish to discuss anything with you,” she said hotly, and walked backwards towards her discarded clothes. “You disgust me! You are the most disgusting, arrogant — ”

“Man you’ve ever met in your entire life,” he finished. “Yes, yes, I know. But, Olivia, please, we really must talk.”

“No!” she shouted. “Leave me alone, you … you … beast!”

Philip suddenly spotted a log behind Olivia, directly in her path. “Olivia, stop,” he said, before she tripped over it. But she misunderstood his meaning.

“I will call you whatever I wish, you braggart!”

“Olivia, turn around,” Philip said sternly and pointed to the ground behind her. “There is a — ”

“I dare not turn my back on you! You would only try to attack me again, you bru — ”

Olivia tripped over the log. Philip saw her left heel catch the log first, and, as she fell backwards over it, he rushed to her aid.

She turned her body, apparently trying to catch herself with her hands instead of landing on her backside, and as he reached her, he tried to prevent her fall by grabbing her arm. But unfortunately, he pulled a bit too forcefully and too quickly. Olivia’s now-wedged foot twisted, and her ankle made an audible crack.

• • •

Olivia collapsed at once from the pain. “Oh, no,” Philip said as he helped her to sit on the ground. “Oh, no, I am so very sorry, Olivia. Are you hurt?”

Olivia looked up at him as she rubbed the offended leg. Her face was bright red and her eyes were full of tears. Yes, Philip realized, she was in pain.
Silly question, you fool.

“Is it your leg?” he asked.

Olivia shook her head.

“Your ankle?”

Olivia nodded as tears began to drip from her eyes.

God, where would it end? Would he ever stop bringing pain upon her? He should leave her now before any more harm befell her as a result of his presence. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he should learn to avoid her forever. But before he did that, he needed to tackle the problem of dressing her and getting her back to Whistler Manor, from where a doctor could be summoned to tend to her ankle.

“Wait here,” Philip ordered.

“Where could I go?” Olivia asked mockingly, the pain of her ankle as evident in her voice as her sarcasm.

“Right,” Philip said. Of course she couldn’t move. “Well, then don’t
try
to move. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed over to her discarded clothes and riding boots and scooped them up into his arms.

“Can you dress?” he asked after he crouched down beside her and deposited her clothes on the ground next to her.

“Yes,” she said curtly and reached for her high-collared shirt.

“Do you need me to help at all?”

Olivia looked up at him instantly, fury burning in her eyes. “No, I do not require your help! You have done quite enough already. Go away.”

“I cannot leave you in such a state to find your way back to the Manor.”

“I will manage without you, my
lord
.”

So they were back to formalities, Philip noted. So be it.

“Miss Winter,” Philip said gently when he noticed her face twisting in pain as she moved her arm through its corresponding sleeve. “I apologize for what has just transpired between us. We shall discuss it when your ankle has been tended and you feel more comfortable. For now, however, we must focus on getting you back to your home as quickly as possible. You cannot walk, that much is clear, and you cannot possibly hoist yourself into your saddle. You may not want me to help you dress, but you need my assistance getting back.”

She must have conceded the point because she did not refuse his offer to act as escort back to Whistler at once. Instead, she was silent for a moment before yelling: “Then turn around!”

And so Philip gave her his back. He could hear her sniffling and whimpering as she fumbled with her clothes. And he could tell she was trying to contain herself. In all his life Philip had never felt so low. There were countless times in which he had felt pathetically sorry for himself, but this was the first time in his life in which Philip truly despised himself. He had behaved absolutely disgracefully. And not only that, his actions were entirely and eternally unforgivable. He had touched Olivia and kissed her in ways that most respectable men would never think of doing with their wives. He had submitted to his lust for her and treated her like a common whore. Olivia was not a whore. Her birth was not as esteemed as his, and her behavior might at times be that of an insufferable hoyden, but she was still a lady in the most basic sense of the word. She was also an innocent, and therefore untouchable outside of marriage. And he was not her husband.

But she had kissed him back; her response to his touch was undeniable, but he was older and much more experienced with physical relations, and so he should have stopped it all. He should not have kissed her to start with, but she had felt so tempting lying over his body. Once he had caught his breath from his fall, he had become aware of her breasts pressing against his chest, her thighs touching his, and her soft, wet-heavy strawberry hair against his arms.

He remembered what he had thought in that moment of weakness before he took her mouth:
Why not?
It had all seemed so uncomplicated on the cusp of arousal. All of their fights, her hateful words, and her status as untouchable to him had mattered precious little in that moment before he kissed her. And so he had thought,
why not?

He had given himself over completely to the lust he had felt in that moment like some kind of animal. All the years of etiquette lessons from his mother and tutors on how to be a proper gentleman had meant nothing in light of how Olivia’s body felt against his own. He had never behaved in such a manner with a respectable woman. God, what she must think of him now!

“I am dressed,” Olivia announced.

Philip turned to see Olivia standing with her left ankle raised, sans riding boot, next to Emily and holding on to the horse’s bridal for support.

“When did she arrive?” asked Philip, astonished to have been so lost in his own thoughts that he missed the animal’s return to the scene.

“I suppose she heard me crying,” said Olivia.

Philip didn’t bother apologizing. He had imagined that a spoken apology was ineffective before, but when he compared all of his past offenses against her to this moment, he feared nothing short of selling his soul would put things right this time. There was of course one way, Philip knew, to right the wrongs of today, and it would bind him to Olivia for the rest of his life. But he would not think of that now. He had to get her home.

Philip searched around for his coat. He found it a short distance away from where Olivia stood … in the mud. He deduced that Olivia had made a point of throwing it there as it was spread out, with the inside touching the wet earth.
That is fine,
thought Philip as he pulled the coat up from the ground and shook it out. He rather thought she was entitled to such theatrics after what he had done to her. Putting the coat on was out of the question, so he rolled it up and secured it to the back of Stephen’s saddle. Then he returned to Olivia and helped her onto her horse — after overcoming much resistance on her part to his having to touch her to do so.

He took the lead on the trail back to Whistler Manor without much protest from Olivia. In fact, she said nothing at all on the way back, and Philip did nothing to encourage her to do otherwise. He knew full well that he was quite possibly the last person in the world with whom she wanted to converse. Why bother? But one thing did need to be said …

“Olivia,” Philip said when they were nearing Whistler Manor. “I believe your father shall inquire at some point as to how your ankle came to be injured.”

He waited for her to respond, but she remained silent, so he continued his speech. “If you choose to tell him the truth, then I shall not object and face the consequences I deserve. But if you choose to tell him differently, I shall not contradict you in that circumstance either. You are the one who will be most harmed by … what has happened today. Therefore, I leave you to decide what to tell your father.”

After a few moments of more silence from Olivia, Philip was convinced that she had given up talking to him altogether, but then she said: “I shall tell him I twisted my ankle on my own. You found me in a state of pain and incapacitation, and rescued me.”

“The truth would bring me as much pain as it would you,” she explained. “Though I would dearly love to see you suffer for all that you have done me, I do not wish to suffer with you.”

So that was that. She would lie to save herself only. The fact that it would save him was just a consequence of her story. It was more than he deserved.

Philip despised himself ever so much more now that he knew he was to get away with what he had done. Mr. Winter would never know that Lord Philip Ravenshaw had almost ravished his daughter on a riverbank. And Olivia, the man’s own daughter, was fabricating the very story that would see to Mr. Winter’s ignorance.