Tempting the Marquess (16 page)

Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound quite so accusatory.

“I’m not angry with you”—he was bloody well furious—“but I need to know. Who was it? Christ, did he hurt you?”

He reached for her, but she pulled back, shaking her head.

“The only man who has hurt me tonight is you.”

She met his gaze then, and the confusion and pain he saw in those blue depths made his heart clench.

“Me? What the devil did I do? I haven’t spoken two words to you since the guests began arriving.”

“Yes, I noticed. As soon as there were other women around you—Oh, why do you even care? Just let me go. We both know you would rather be with Lady Vernon.”

He frowned. Something was definitely not right.

“Why would I want anything to do with that harpy?” he demanded.

Her eyes blazed with indignation. “Then you deny that you are planning to make her your mistress?”

“Hell, yes, I deny it. Who told you such a thing?”

“I overheard her in the retiring room. She seemed quite certain of your intentions. She told the woman she was with that she had proof of your desire.”

Jason groaned. Callista had always been a brazen hussy, but she had gotten worse since she’d married old Sir George. She had managed to seat herself next to him at dinner, and when he had ignored her suggestive whispers, she had decided, under the cover of the table, to make a very literal grab for his attention.

She had indeed found “proof of his desire,” as she put it, but it hadn’t been for her. He had been bored past bearing during the meal. Callista disgusted him, and the woman on his other side, a Mrs. Griggs, had been so awed at finding herself next to a marquess, her dialogue was limited to repeating, “My lord,” after every single bloody thing he said.

Was it any wonder his thoughts had strayed to Olivia, whose clever, cutting remarks elevated conversation to an event akin to a fencing match? He found her remarkably agile brain every bit as fascinating and lust-inducing as her lush body. A verifiable pocket Venus sent to tempt this poor mortal. He didn’t know how long he would be able to hold out, especially if his son persisted in bringing up matters of the flesh.

Edward’s questions had brought an uncomfortably arousing image to Jason’s mind. He envisioned Olivia lying beneath him, her lips parted and her face flushed with exertion. He imagined thrusting into her over and over, hard and fast, their bodies slamming together as they both reached for release. Her hips would rock up to meet him, forcing him deeper. In his mind he heard her breathless pants against his ear, and then little mewling cries when the pleasure finally overtook her. Her hot sheath would contract around his cock and he would forget everything, losing himself in her as he planted his seed in her womb.

Heaven help him, he’d nearly come there at the table just thinking about it. Unfortunately Callista had heard the small moan he’d been unable to suppress and had attributed it to her crude innuendoes. He had thought, however, that he had made his lack of interest in her clear when he’d removed her hand from his crotch and warned her never to touch him again. The lady was persistent, he would grant her that.

“And this is why you’ve practically thrown yourself at every man here tonight?” he asked incredulously. “You were trying to pay me back in my own coin?”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t need to stand here and listen to you insult me.” She started to walk out but he caught her arm.

“Christ, Livvy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’re driving me mad. I wanted to smash in the faces of every man in there you danced with and smiled at. You needn’t torment me by flirting with other men. Whatever desire Lady Vernon may have noticed, I swear it was only for you.”

He could see she didn’t believe him. He ought to leave it there. To walk away. He shouldn’t be telling her any of this, but the raw pain in her eyes compelled him to press on.

“I have been aching since the moment I walked into your chamber and saw you in that damnably low-cut gown. No, longer than that. I’ve wanted you since you fell at my feet your first day here.”

“I did not fall at your feet. I merely landed there after your dog tried to kill me,” she corrected him, her reserve beginning to melt. “Did you truly desire me then?”

“I am only a man, and you are quite lovely. As much as I didn’t want to want you, I should have been worried for the health of my, er, manly self if I had not.”

“It’s my sister who is the great beauty in the family.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So you say.”

It amazed him that she didn’t recognize how beautiful she was. It was true he’d never seen her sister, but he could not imagine her looks held a candle to Livvy’s inner light. At first, he had thought her merely pretty, but the word didn’t do her justice. She reminded him of a wood nymph, able to blend in with her surroundings when she wished, but the magic about her—the spirit she could not dim—gave her away. And once you noticed Olivia Jane Weston, it was difficult to forget her.

She spilled over into the castle, her delight in the place forcing him to view his home in a new light. In
her
light. Her scent lingered in the rooms, that tantalizing combination of soap and roses and Livvy.

He hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t want to desire her. After Laura’s death, he hadn’t thought he would ever want another woman. He’d begun to believe, had almost hoped, that part of him had been buried with her.

But he hadn’t counted on Livvy, with her sunny smiles and her way of coaxing him out of a foul temper. Not that she didn’t have a temper of her own, but he only liked her more for it. There was no point in denying she affected him. She pestered him during the day and plagued his dreams at night.

It wasn’t just lust, either. Pure, simple lust he could handle. No, he cared about her, and he knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let her get any closer. She was too close as it was. Dangerously close. It would be better—safer—for both of them to maintain a distance. But she kept inching closer and, God help him, he didn’t have the strength to keep pushing her away.

As long as he kept it to caring he would be all right, he told himself. Caring and wanting. That was where he drew the line. He would not cross over into loving or needing.
Never again.

He looked into her eyes, and then drew her up against him.

“I want you. Only you, Livvy.”

“Truly?” she whispered.

“Truly.”

“I want proof.”

She wanted proof? He imagined Livvy’s fingers on his cock and was instantly hard.

“Livvy—”

“Don’t ‘Livvy’ me. If that Callista woman saw some proof of your desire, and you claim that desire is for me, I should be able to see the proof as well.”

Christ.

She was going to be the death of him.

“The proof is there,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re just too innocent to know it.”

She pouted.

The sight of those full berry pink lips was his undoing.

He took her hand and held her palm over his pounding heart, then guided it down over the buttons on his coat to the falls of his breeches. His erection jerked and leapt against her palm as if it could break through the fabric barrier separating them.

Jason dropped his hand.

By some miracle, hers stayed put.

“Is that proof enough for you?” he demanded hoarsely.

“This means you want me,” she breathed.

It was part statement, part question.

If he answered her truthfully, there could be no going back.

He closed his eyes, praying for the strength to push her away yet again. It would be for the best.

But when he opened his mouth, he found himself saying,
“Yes.”

Olivia Jane Weston.

It was almost too much to believe. And yet the proof was in her hand. Lord, but she felt wicked. It didn’t feel bad, either, this wickedness; it felt glorious.

She ran her hand up the hard length of him, marveling at what lay beneath the fine wool of his breeches. Unaccountably, touching him seemed to affect her body as well. She could feel her nipples jutting out, pressing against her corset. And the place between her legs throbbed.

Jason stood as still and stiff as a marble statue. He seemed scared to move for fear she would stop touching him. Foolish man. She did remove her hand, which made him groan in disappointment, but she wanted to touch the rest of him. She smoothed her palms over his shoulders, feeling the heat of his body through the layers of clothes. She began sliding her hands down over his chest.

“Olivia,” he rasped.

“Livvy,” she instructed.

“Livvy, you need to stop.”

She didn’t listen. Her hands trailed lower, deliberately avoiding the hard ridge of aroused masculine flesh, to play on his muscled thighs.

“Olivia, stop!”

Her arms dropped to her sides, and she stepped away from him, stung by his dismissal.

He caught her hands in his.

“No, love, you misunderstand. I want you to touch me. I want it more than I want to breathe, but this is too public.”

Love.

How was it that a casually uttered endearment could be so thrilling?

Love.

How many times had she read, heard, said the word without thought. On his lips, those four simple letters combined to form something new.

Something holy.

Something she prayed was just a little bit true.

“You—You don’t think I was too brazen?”

He looked like he was in pain, but he managed a chuckle. “Despite what tales you were told in the schoolroom, I cannot believe there are many men who object to brazen women. So long as that brazenness is restricted to one man, that is.”

“I suppose, as I have already begun, I shall have to restrict it to you, my lord.”

“Jason,” he corrected her.

“Jason,” she sighed in agreement. “You know, I don’t think I want to touch you after all.”

“Have you decided to be sensible, then?”

She shook her head. “Not unless you have. That wasn’t quite what I meant to say. I do want to touch you, but first I want to draw you.”

He inhaled sharply.

She rose up on her toes and whispered in his ear. “All of you.”

His hands tightened on hers.

“Are the guests leaving yet?”

“Not for a while. It’s not yet midnight.”

He swore. “Now will you admit that guests are a nuisance?”

His impatience made her feel like the most desirable woman alive.

The thought gave her pause. Why had she felt the need to add the bit about being alive? Was she trying to remind herself that she would never be able to compete with Laura?

She strove to keep her tone light. “I should be insulted. You will recall I am a guest.”

“Very well,” he agreed. “All guests are a nuisance except those who want to draw me.”

“I don’t know. I think most of the women here would draw you, given the chance.”

“You are a provoking minx. I amend my statement. All guests are a nuisance save those who want to draw me and are named Olivia. Are you satisfied?”

She shrugged. “If you are.”

“I am not satisfied in the least, but we must return to the party. If we have not already been missed, we soon will be.” He wound her arm through his and they began walking toward the Great Hall.

“Will you dance with me?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight begging note in her voice.

He shook his head. “I don’t dare. I might lose control and ravish you right then and there. And even if I somehow managed to restrain myself, everyone in attendance would know in a moment that I wished to do so.”

“I don’t think my aunt would be pleased by that.” She laughed.

He didn’t join her. Instead, a pensive frown clouded his face.

Oh, there went her stupid mouth again. Why had she brought up her aunt? She had been so close to a marvelous adventure, and now she had given Jason the perfect reason to back out.

She knew he didn’t care for her in the way she had come to care for him. It hurt, no denying that, but he still had a long way to go in terms of opening his heart again. And as much as she’d wanted to be the magic woman who healed all his hurts and helped him love again, that was the stuff of romantic dreams.

Jason was real. He was not one of the perfect men in her novels. And yet, in many ways, she thought he was a hero.

She could easily see why Charlotte and Edward—and even Charles—looked up to him. He was strong, but he was kind and caring, too. He tried to hide these noble qualities, of course, but he likely believed showing emotion was a sign of weakness. She knew from observing the men in her life that they were often possessed of such ridiculous notions.

She dug in her heels.

“Jason Traherne, if you are having second thoughts, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. His hand moved to toy with one of the curls at her temple, twisting it around his fingers. “I passed second thoughts ages ago. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve fantasized about you and the equal number of times I’ve told myself not to.”

“As the female in question, second and all other numbers of thought are my prerogative. If I am not having them, neither can you.”

“If you say so, it must be true.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “In any case, you still have time to change your mind.”

She shivered with pleasure at his touch. “I am quite resolved. I plan to draw you until you are satisfied with the results.”

He groaned. “Now look what you’ve done. I can’t possibly go back to the party like this,” he said, gesturing at his tented breeches.

She giggled at the sight, and he swatted her backside in retaliation.

“You are a cruel, lusty wench,” he bemoaned, “but it is probably all to the good for us to go in separately. You go ahead. I’ll rejoin the party shortly.”

“But what about our plans?” she asked.

“Our plans? For what?”

In addition to being ridiculous, men were also infuriatingly dense creatures with memories in proportion to the smaller size of their brains. It was fortunate they made such excellent drawing subjects.

“For tonight,” she hissed at him. “Where are we to meet? And when?”

“You seem to have forgotten that our chambers adjoin. We shall have little trouble locating each other. Come to me once you have dismissed your maid.”

“In your chamber?” she squeaked.

No, no, no. She refused to share his bed with a ghost.

“I suppose I could be troubled to walk the few steps to yours, if you wish,” he offered.

In Laura’s room? That would be even worse! She thought quickly. “A bedchamber just seems so . . . so ordinary.”

He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Heaven forfend we should be ordinary! Where would you prefer, my little adventuress? The library?”

He was joking, she knew, but it sounded perfect to her.

“Yes, the library. What time?”

“Once the guests have gone, I will wait there for you. Come to me when you are able.” He pushed her forward. “Now take yourself off before I decide to challenge myself to a duel.”