Sara Bennett

by Lessons in Seduction

  “I want to know, Oliver. You said the other day that you wanted to avenge your brother. I want to know everything that happened that night. Tell me.”

  Upon the stage the curtain had risen once more. The orchestra in the pit struck up, and Act Two opened inside a taverna, where a wedding celebration was taking place.

  “Yes,” Oliver said softly, “I kissed her, and yes, I touched her. I was drunk and confused, but I don’t claim that as an excuse. I should have pushed her away—she was Anthony’s.”

  “And then he found you both.”

  “Yes.” He looked at her through his lashes, and his mouth curled in a smile that held no humor. “She was wrapped around me like ivy, her dress half off, her hair down. She’d pulled off my cravat and my shirt was hanging out of my trousers. Yes, Vivianna, you wanted to know!”

  She had looked away, but she forced herself to turn back. “You didn’t consummate your…eh…”

  His eyebrows lifted again. “Are you an expert on copulation, too, Miss Greentree?” he asked her with an edge of anger.

  “No, of course not. There…there was a booklet I read once, and it showed illustrations of men and women.”

  His lips quirked. “Oh?”

  “It was an instruction booklet, on how to prevent children. There was a Latin term…”

  Oliver looked as if he wasn’t sure he was having this conversation. “Coitus interruptus.”

  “Yes!” She smiled, relieved he knew what she was talking about.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. Oliver swallowed and shifted in his seat. “Vivianna, as much as I am enjoying talking with you about connection, I think we have strayed from the point.”

  “Oh, of course.” She flushed. “W-what happened then, when Anthony came into the room?”

  “He just stood there. Celia started to scream, saying she didn’t love him. The inference being, I suppose, that she loved me. I sat down and started to laugh. I was drunk and it was all so absurd—like this opera. Anthony turned around and left. The next time I saw him…”

  “He was dead.”

  “Yes. I tried to persuade her to marry me, you know. Do the right thing. She wouldn’t. Didn’t want me. It was all a game to get out from under her father’s thumb. I can’t blame her, I suppose. I don’t blame her; I blame myself.”

  Vivianna felt her heart swell with compassion for him, and relief that after all he had not been so very bad. “It’s not so terrible,” she said gently. “You were foolish, but the scene was not engineered by you. Probably, in time, your brother would have forgiven you, and you would have been friends again. You should not think he hates you from beyond the grave—I do not believe the dead would hate the living for one simple mistake. Surely they are past such petty concerns.”

  Anthony’s death had destroyed all chance of a reconciliation between the brothers. It was no wonder Oliver spent his days and nights trying to forget. And yet what was it he had said in the coach? I hope to avenge my brother, Vivianna, not placate his restless spirit. Avenge him in what way? By hurting Celia? Vivianna did not believe it. There must be something else….

  She turned to ask him further questions, but he was smiling at her, his gaze sliding over her face like a caress, and the words flew from her head.

  “You are a very unusual woman, Miss Vivianna Greentree.”

  “Is that a compliment?” she asked frankly.

  “Oh yes.” He nodded slowly. “You’ve forced me to reveal something to you that I had not intended to, and I actually feel a sense of relief. Are you my confessor now, Vivianna? I warn you, you would not like to listen to all my sins.”

  “Are they very numerous?”

  “Very.”

  Vivianna sensed the return of desire between them. The heavy liquid weight of her limbs, the lazy thud of her heart, the tingling tightness of her skin.

  His lips brushed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes. The opera continued, but Vivianna neither saw nor heard the agonies of Adina and Nemorino. Her own feelings filled her to bursting, and at last, with a soft groan of surrender, she lifted her face to his.

  His mouth was hot, barely controlled.

  A mistake, she told herself. This is a mistake. Everyone will see…

  Evidently he knew it, too. In the time it took Rubini to draw breath for his next note, Oliver had propelled her to her feet and back, into the shadows to a small anteroom, offering privacy and hiding them from the eyes of the audience. Oliver had earlier explained the anteroom had been built at Lady Marsh’s request, because she often had to recline when the pain was too great, and she did not wish people to see her.

  Tonight it hid Oliver and Vivianna, and she was in his arms.

  “I’ve thought of this for days.” He kissed her face, and then his mouth was against her throat as she arched it for his pleasure. She could feel his chest to hers, the frill on his shirt tickling her skin, and only the width of her skirts defeated her ability to feel his legs and his hips.

  Protect your heart.

  That was all very well, but what about this burning, aching need? How did she protect herself from that and at the same time use it to her advantage?

  His hands stroked over her ribs, and upward, to cup her breasts through her stays and chemise and the silk of her bodice. The feel of his palms on them, even through so many layers of cloth, reminded her of his fingers against her bare flesh, and Vivianna moaned aloud.

  He covered her mouth with his, and he reached back, his fingers working on the hooks that held the back of her bodice together. A tug, the lined silk bodice loosened, and in a moment he had drawn it down. He lifted aside the soft cup of her stays and the thin chemise, and bared her breast. Her nipple was already puckered against the dark aureole, and Vivianna gasped and touched herself in wonder.

  “It is as if I am ready for you,” she murmured. “Wanting you to kiss me there.”

  Oliver groaned at her words, and then he stroked her, covering both her hand and her breast with his own hand.

  Vivianna gasped at the warmth of his palm, and then his mouth was on hers. He was rolling the stiff peak of her breast between his fingers, tugging gently at the nipple in a manner that made her want to scream at him. Not to stop, though, never that. But the sensation jolted her right down to her toes, though mainly it was in the place between her legs. She ached for him, and pressed her thighs hard together to try and ease it.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. He stroked her again, and then he stooped and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently upon it. Beyond them, out in the theater, applause erupted, and laughter as something upon the stage caught the audience’s attention.

  Vivianna was oblivious to everything but Oliver.

  “You make me feel…” she began, her voice strange and husky. “I feel as if I have drunk too much champagne.”

  He laughed softly and, holding her face in his hands with tender care, kissed her mouth again, opening her lips, using his tongue. “You’re drunk on desire,” he murmured. Then, holding her still and looking down into her eyes, “I want to kiss you.”

  “You have,” she breathed, and reached up to touch his lips with her own.

  He smiled against her mouth. “Not there. I want to kiss you between your legs.”

  “Oh.” Aphrodite had not mentioned that sort of kissing, but Vivianna knew by the tremble in her knees that already she was longing and eager for him to do it. She told him so, meeting his gaze. “I would like that. Will you let me kiss you, too?”

  His eyes blurred, as though the vision she had created in his head had temporarily scattered his thoughts. “You can kiss me another time,” he said huskily, “and I would like it very much.”

  And then he knelt down at her feet and began to pull up her bulky skirts and petticoats. Vivianna clasped the many folds in her hands, holding them for him, until he had exposed her stockinged legs. Cool air brushed her most sensitive places. Oliver swallowed and looked up at her, his eyes
black with desire.

  “You aren’t wearing any drawers,” he said as if he couldn’t believe it, although the evidence was there before him.

  Vivianna smiled. “I know.”

  Slowly, with extreme concentration, he reached out and stroked her thighs above the ribboned tops of her stockings. His palms curved over her hips, then down, molding to the rounded curves of her bottom. His warm breath stirred the soft curls at the apex of her legs.

  Vivianna felt her body tense in anticipation. She leaned her head back against the wall and wondered if she would be able to stay upright much longer.

  His fingers eased between her thighs, sliding down through the curls that hid her outer lips, searching the delicate folds, to the slickness within. He made a sound of satisfaction in his throat and then…good Lord, and then he bent forward and…

  A bolt of sheer pleasure rendered Vivianna momentarily speechless, and then she gave a deep moan. She lifted her wrist to her mouth and bit upon it, muffling her cries. His tongue circled her swollen nub, sending more quakes through her trembling body, and then he proceeded to suck upon it, gently but firmly. Vivianna arched her back, and at the same time her knees gave way a little more.

  He held her up, his fingers pressing into her bottom and opening her thighs at the same time, while his mouth and teeth and tongue did their wonderful work. Vivianna gasped and moved against him. His fingers were inside her, she could feel the pressure, thrusting as his tongue teased her toward the precipice. She bit into her glove, but what she really wanted to do was scream. It was almost too much to bear.

  She felt herself erupt, and her legs gave way.

  He caught her, holding her up, and the next thing she knew she was in his arms, his skirts rumpled up between them, as she sobbed and gasped out her pleasure in the warm crease between his shoulder and neck. His heart was thudding as loudly as hers, and his chest was rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

  Vivianna took several deep breaths of her own, trying to calm herself, but it was as if her feelings were all confused and jumbled up inside her. Surely what he had just done was not typical of a rake? She had always believed rakes cared only for themselves, for their own selfish pleasures. What he had just done to her was for her pleasure alone, wasn’t it?

  She murmured something of the sort into his cravat.

  Oliver’s breath warmed her ear. “You’re beautiful, Vivianna. Pink and sleek and beautiful. It was for my pleasure, too, believe me. Next time I am inside you it will not be with my tongue.”

  Protect your heart!

  Her head was spinning with what he had said, but worse than that, her heart was melting. He had given her such joy, and denied himself release, and now he spoke of the next time. Vivianna knew he would not hurt her, not physically anyway. He would not hurt any woman. There was such goodness in him. Surely he would not deny her her request if she asked him now…?

  Yes, ask him to save the shelter. This is your chance. You have him in your control, in your power. Do it now. Now!

  He was kissing her again, his mouth feeding on hers, his hands hot against her breasts. He pushed against her, against the place he had just been kissing, and with each movement a new jolt of hot pleasure went through her. And then he turned so that his body was hard against hers and she felt him, the hard urgent length of him, against her belly.

  “Vivianna,” he groaned, “come with me now. We can go somewhere private. We can make love in safety.”

  A warning sounded in her head. And then what? it demanded. Will he call you a hackney and send you home? Why not, once he has what he wants from you?

  And yet he had been so unselfish. He had lavished all his care and attention upon her, given her pleasure such as she had never before experienced. Surely he would not abandon her?

  Vivianna tried to clear her head.

  The shelter. Save the shelter. That was what this was all about, wasn’t it? Aphrodite had said she would know when the moment was right. Was this it now? Had the right moment come? He wanted her, that much was clear. If he really wanted her, if she was really important to him, he would say yes. Simple. Just ask him….

  Again his mouth was on her breast, and he ran his tongue over her nipple, making her flesh jump and squirm. His fingers brushed her inner thigh, stirring the desire he had only just sated, making her think of being in his bed for an entire night.

  The image made her dizzy.

  Ask him now, before it is too late….

  “Oliver,” she managed. “How much do you want me?”

  His hand cupped the hot moist core of her, and his mouth stilled against her skin. “More than life,” he said.

  “More than Candlewood?”

  It was said. The words hung between them, and she knew. As soon as they were said, she knew. This wasn’t the right moment, this wasn’t it at all.

  Vivianna had just made a most dreadful mistake.

  Chapter 13

  He looked up at her, his dark eyes blurred. He was stunned. His dark hair tangled and untidy, his necktie askew, his face flushed with passion. One hand was still upon her breast, the other cupping her between her legs. He blinked, slowly, regaining his composure.

  “The shelter. Of course.” He shook his head. “Of course.”

  And then he stepped back from her and left her cold.

  The applause in the theater was growing, and she realized that Act Two must be over. With shaking hands she began to straighten her clothing. The hooks of her bodice were a problem, but she could use her shawl to cover herself. She may look somewhat less well turned out than she had before, but in the crush beyond the door, no one would notice.

  Oliver stood a moment and watched her make her repairs, his hands loose by his sides, and then he laughed without humor, and began to jerk his coat back into shape and smooth his cravat.

  “I thought…” He shook his head. “My mistake, Miss Greentree. I have long suspected where your real passions lay, now my suspicions have been confirmed.”

  Vivianna licked lips that were suddenly very dry, but she had gone this far. It was too late to back out now. “You say you want me, and in return you will not reconsider extending the lease on Candlewood? You cannot want me very much.”

  He smiled, a polite mask through which Oliver’s eyes glittered. “I am surprised you have stayed a virgin so long, Vivianna. Or perhaps you are not? Perhaps some Yorkshire worthy has got there before me?”

  She slapped him.

  The sound of the blow was hidden in the applause, but Vivianna saw his head swing to one side with the force of it, and the red mark bloom upon his cheek.

  She had never struck another person in her life, and now she felt sick. Wretchedly sick with anger and hurt. Protect your heart. It was too late, too late….

  Vivianna made her voice flat—if he could play a part, then so could she. “You’re just like Toby, aren’t you? A rake who cares nothing for anybody but himself.”

  He looked at her, and then he smiled. That lazy, reckless smile that struck her to the soul. “And you are just like Aphrodite, aren’t you? Selling yourself for gain.”

  “The shelter isn’t—”

  “It may as well be an emerald or a ruby.”

  “Believe what you like,” she hissed.

  “Oh, I will,” he said grimly. “Believe me, I will.”

  She marched toward the door and wrenched it open. Vivianna exited the box into the crowd.

  The audience was spilling out from their boxes to chat and sip champagne. Supper was being served. Although the opera was finished, there was a ballet to be performed for those in the crowd who wanted to maked the most of this “occasion.”

  But Vivianna knew that, for her, the evening was over.

  She felt as if her life were over, too, but it could not be that bad. No, she told herself bleakly, she would rally. A few weeks ago she had not even met Oliver Montegomery. He could not possibly mean so much to her in so short a time.

  Oliver follow
ed her down the staircase, not touching her, but never too far from her. Once she would have thought he was hovering protectively, but now she knew he hated her.

  Perhaps some Yorkshire worthy has got there before me…

  She had wounded him. Who would have thought her words would hurt him so much? And yet Vivianna understood now. You are just like Aphrodite. He had put her on a pedestal, and she had fallen off it with a bang.

  Well, that was his mistake, surely, not hers? She could not help it if he had thought her an angel and she was mere flesh and blood!

  Or was it not so simple?

  Oliver was a mystery to her, all mazes and complications. He had secrets, too, and he had made mistakes. He felt responsible for the death of his own brother, and he refused to give in when it came to Candlewood. But those things did not stop her from liking him, being attracted to him.

  Sometimes she thought she was attracted to him despite herself.

  And now that was all over.

  “Oliver!”

  The loud deep voice startled Vivianna, but it shocked Oliver. For a moment his face was blank, and then in another moment he seemed to consciously relax, his eyelids lowering, his mouth curling in that lazy smile, his body turning fluid. He was like an actor taking on a role, she thought in amazement.

  He turned and faced the man behind him. “Lord Lawson.”

  Lord Lawson was a gentleman in his fifties, tall and lean, his hair more gray than brown, and with an energy about him that spoke of the ability to get things done. But his eyes were as cold a blue as Vivianna had ever seen.

  “The worse for drink again I see,” Lawson said with a smile, but the note in his voice was not amused.

  “Alas, yes.”

  “You are leaving early?” he asked Oliver. His icy gaze slid to Vivianna and back again. He was still smiling, but it was a meaningless gesture—his eyes weren’t.

  “Yes, a prior engagement,” Oliver said, blinking sleepily, in a manner she had seen before, as if he had drunk too much brandy. And yet she knew he had not drunk any at all.