“That’s how it feels when I kiss you?” Gideon caressed her cheek.
“Well—yes,” she shyly admitted, and then her thoughts drifted to Lord Kempthorn again. “However, your brother disapproved and he threatened to take a horsewhip to me if he ever caught me risking my neck again.”
She omitted the part about the earl spanking her.
Gideon’s caressing hand moved to her shoulder. “Did he frighten you?”
“Of course not,” she lied. “I was angry he stepped in where he was not wanted and ruined—” She took a deep breath. “What are we doing, Netherwood? What are you doing? Here … with me.”
Gideon shifted and leaned against the basin of the fountain. “I worry about you, Olivia. Don’t tell me that you are fine on your own. You haven’t seen enough of the world to comprehend its dangers.” He pinched his nose. “You are so fierce, so innocent.”
The heat his kisses had created within her chest cooled. “So you kissed me because you were worried.” She picked up her wineglass and took a contemplative sip.
Arrogant jackanapes.
His hand fell away from his face and he pulled her closer. She spilled some wine on her dress. “I kissed you because I cannot seem to keep my hands off you. I have no business touching you. It will not happen again.”
“Oh good. I am so glad we have that settled.”
Swine.
Olivia shoved him away and climbed unsteadily onto her feet. Without looking at him she finished the remaining wine in her glass.
“What have we settled?” he warily asked. He gripped the edge of the fountain to pull himself up.
“That I am not the only one who is afraid of your brother.” Olivia headed for the house, leaving Netherwood to find his way home. She did not require the use of his lantern. The light spilling from the interior of the library was her beacon.
“Olivia, don’t run off,” Gideon called after her. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings.”
“Do not worry about my feelings, Netherwood.” She gritted her teeth together. “You never have.”
His arms wrapped around her waist and he dragged her backward a few steps before she left the garden. “I care, Olivia,” he murmured into her hair. “Always have, but it’s not enough. I am not the man you think I am, and you are too damn innocent for someone like me.”
“Then stop kissing me.” She brushed off his embrace. “With a little patience, I am certain I can find a gentleman who will not regret putting his hands on me.”
He shackled her slender wrist and held her in place. “London is filled with them, you little fool! That is why you need a keeper. You are too naïve for the sophisticated flirtations too prevalent in Town life. You should beg your father to send you home to Treversham House. There must be an unmarried squire or clergyman who would marry you and keep you tucked away in the country.”
Olivia’s eyebrows came together in puzzlement. Gideon looked tormented, as if she was the one hurting him. “You have been out of my life for a long time, my lord. I am no longer the girl of your fond recollections. I crave adventure as any other lady.”
“Prove it,” he growled and pulled her into his crushing embrace.
Her entire body hummed with anticipation as his mouth slanted over hers. His lips were hot and firm as he kissed her ruthlessly, a chastisement for challenging him, for testing the limits of his restraint.
Olivia kissed him back, a potent mix of desire and anger. She had provoked him, and a part of her reveled in the feminine power awakening within her. Netherwood was determined to keep her at a distance, but she had the ability to break down his resistance and enthrall him with a kiss.
His hand moved up from her waist and followed the curve of her breast. He squeezed and her breath caught in her throat as he devoured her lips. Her hard nipples ached and she idly wondered what it would feel like if he kissed those tender buds. His hand slid up toward her throat. There was a harsh tug and the sound of ripped fabric.
Olivia gasped against his lips as the night air seeped between them and cooled her flesh. She abruptly turned her face away to end their kiss. “You tore the front of my bodice?”
“A fitting end to your ugly dress,” he said smugly. He stepped back and stared down at the damage. “Have your maid toss it in the rag bin in the morning.”
She glared at him in disbelief. “You kissed me,” she said, the pitch of her voice increasing with each word, “so you could get close enough to ruin my dress?”
He exhaled. “Yes. I told you that you were too naïve to play such games. I will call on you tomorrow. If you behave, I will escort you to Mother’s favorite dressmaker where you can benefit from my advice.”
Ill-mannered savage.
“I do not require your assistance, Mr. Netherwood,” she said, seething. He had kissed her as if he was dying for her mouth, and he had felt nothing. It was all a game to him.
He hesitated when he noticed her biting her lower lip to quell a slight tremor. The fierce satisfaction in his gaze softened to something appallingly close to pity.
“Ah … Olivia.”
“The hour is late, Netherwood. You should return to your town house before your brother realizes that you are not in bed.”
Leave before I cry, you heartless beast!
“I will call on you tomorrow.” His expression hardened when she did not reply. “Do not behave like a silly goose, Olivia. You could benefit from my advice.” He frowned down at her. “My brother’s as well.”
She preferred death to begging Lord Kempthorn for his help.
“Farewell, Mr. Netherwood. Watch your step in that hedge maze. It would be a shame if you tripped and broke your neck,” she said, unable to conceal the mute anger simmering in her eyes.
Gideon shook his head and muttered something under his breath. He slowly backed away from her. “Don’t forget to get rid of that dress.”
She held her chin high. “I will do what I please.”
“Careful, Olivia. Wear that dress again, and you will not like the consequences.”
“How will you punish me? With a kiss?” she taunted. Her lips still stung from his last kiss.
“Perhaps,” he said, turning away and heading back into the garden. The darkness swallowed him whole. “Or I might spank you.”
Olivia’s mouth fell open in surprise. By the time she had recovered her composure, he was gone.
* * *
Thorn used the servant’s entrance to enter the town house. The house was dark, but he had remembered to collect the lantern he had left near the fountain after he had kissed Olivia Lydall.
I should have never sought her out.
Never kissed her. Again.
There was some comfort in blaming the bottles of wine he had consumed during the long hours at the Acropolis. He had laughed until his stomach had ached while St. Lyon regaled them with tales of his latest conquests. Rainbault spoke of the duel he had almost fought a few days earlier, and Gideon had surprised everyone by sharing a harrowing story about a sea battle and a narrow escape from French pirates.
It had been an enjoyable evening until Norgrave had shown up and demanded to see Chance. Of course, it could have been worse. His cousin could have broken his neck when he escaped out one of the Acropolis’s windows and dropped down into the back alley. Marriage was supposed to tame a man, not make him more reckless.
He could have returned to the Acropolis once he had escorted his cousin home. Eight months had passed since he had bedded a woman. Although his friends would not understand, Thorn savored his periods of celibacy almost as much as he loved quenching his lust. Denial heightened his instincts and proved he was in control of his appetites and his emotions. Food and drink tasted better. He took in his surroundings and studied everything. Intellectual pursuits filled his soul. Music and art became a solace as his carnal needs sharpened and taunted him in his dreams.
Encountering Miss Lydall at Malster Park had reminded him that eight months was a long ti
me to deny himself the pleasure of losing himself in an eager woman. Of savoring the taste and texture of her skin, the scent of her arousal intermingling with his own, and the keening cries of her rapture.
Thorn had not denied himself so long to find brief pleasure in one of the Acropolis’s courtesans. When he took a lover, the affair usually lasted months to a year. There was no jealousy or bitterness when he ended their arrangement. Emotions rarely played a part in his affairs. He chose women who were similar to him in temperament and appetites. Ladies who understood that he was not seeking a wife, and that he was the one in control. He was loving, devoted, and generous with all of the mistresses. He was also the one who walked away when their passions cooled.
Olivia Lydall was too innocent, too emotional to understand his world.
The realization that he was drawn to her was humiliating. It revealed a weakness within him and he resented her for it. Slipping into Lord Dewick’s library while she unknowingly charmed him by flirting with that damn marble bust had been foolhardy.
Luring her into the back gardens so he could steal a few kisses bordered on lunacy.
Perhaps he should follow St. Lyons and Rainbault’s example and work off his lust for Olivia Lydall between the fleshy thighs of a skilled courtesan.
“Where were you?”
Thorn had reached the main hall and discovered Gideon sitting halfway up the staircase. He had an empty glass cupped in his hands. His twin had discarded his evening coat, but he still wore his waistcoat. His cravat was tied, but the knot was loose and hastily retied.
He paused at the bottom step. “How long have you been here?”
Gideon shrugged and squinted at the ceiling. “Slightly less than an hour.”
“I assumed you wouldn’t return until morning.”
His twin grimaced and rubbed his chin. “There was little point in staying. Lust like a paphian’s love fades once a man spends his seed into the rumpled bedding.”
Thorn did not know how to respond. His brother had the demeanor of a well-pleasured man, but there was an air of melancholy in his posture. As if he had regretted not leaving with Thorn and Chance.
Thorn climbed up the stairs until he was standing in front of his brother. “How drunk are you?”
Gideon groaned. “Exceedingly.” He gave Thorn a considering glance. “You?”
“Somewhat, but less than I should be.” He thought about his next words. “How long has it been?”
His brother lifted his head. “For what?”
Thorn simply stared into Gideon’s eyes and waited. Sharing a womb had tied them together in ways unlike other siblings. He refused to believe their time apart and his twin’s stubbornness had destroyed their unique bond.
Understanding flashed in Gideon’s bloodshot eyes. “Ah, that.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Must we discuss this? Out loud?”
Thorn grinned at his brother’s reluctance. “We could use hand gestures but that seems a bit vulgar and confusing since neither one of us is at his best.”
Gideon scratched at the beard stubble along the line of his jaw. He stared ahead, unable to look at Thorn while he spoke. “Let’s just say that it has been a long while since I—uh, have been close to a woman. It wasn’t that I didn’t have opportunities over the years. Was tempted a time or two.” He shrugged as if at peace with his choices. “When Rainbault arrived with those women, I thought it was time. I have spent so many years driven by my anger, by my demons, that it has made me a very rich man. I saw the greed in those wenches’ eyes and I figured I had earned the right to take. I was certainly willing to pay for it.”
Thorn reflected on his own bouts of celibacy, and the needs unfulfilled. “You were disappointed.”
“No, she was rather extraordinary.” Gideon glanced over and grinned. “Of course, it has been a long time and my expectations were very low.”
Thorn punched him on the arm.
His brother sobered. “Afterward, the wench was curled around me and whispered that she loved me. I felt nothing but a hollowness in my chest.”
“The wench wasn’t interested in your heart, brother. She enjoyed your cock and the notion of you filling her reticule with gold.”
Gideon did not seem to hear him. “A coldness washed over me. The silky flesh I had savored thirty minutes earlier repulsed me. The scent of what we had done curdled my stomach. I left the bed without a word. I was so angry I did not trust myself.”
Thorn braced his hands on his knees. “At yourself?”
His brother made a slicing motion with his hand. “At me … at her. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t the one I wanted, but it didn’t stop me from shagging her.”
His hand moved from his knee to his brother’s. “There is no need to feel guilty.”
Gideon expelled a sound of weariness. “That’s the problem, Thorn. I don’t feel any guilt. Not about her anyway.”
“You said that she wasn’t the one. Who is?” Thorn asked, dreading his brother’s response. If he mentioned Olivia Lydall by name, then his suspicions would be confirmed.
Gideon stood up. “There is no other woman.” He rolled the empty glass between his two hands. “Are you heading to bed?”
Thorn was happy to change the subject. “I have had enough adventure for one evening.”
His brother snorted in agreement. He and Thorn climbed the stairs. He abruptly halted. “Wait. You never answered my question. Where were you?”
He contemplated lying to Gideon. However, if his brother spoke to Olivia, she would innocently reveal Thorn’s deception. “I saw a light in Lord Dewick’s library and decided to check on Miss Lydall.”
“At this late hour?” He gestured at Thorn’s informal attire. “You look like a carriage rolled over you and smell like the floor of a tavern.”
“We promised the marchioness that we would look after her,” he said, pushing by his brother to continue his ascent. “Lord Dewick isn’t scheduled to arrive for a few more days so when I saw the light in the library, it seemed wise to investigate.”
Gideon followed him up the stairs. “She must have appreciated your concern.”
He thought about how her mouth felt against his. Shy, sweet, and wholly off limits. Of how he tore the front of her dress and allowed her to believe the kiss had meant nothing to him.
Miss Lydall believed it was Gideon who had deceived her. If she figured out that she had kissed Thorn, she would be furious with both of them.
“Perhaps I should call on her tomorrow,” his brother said, interrupting Thorn’s thoughts.
“She won’t be at home.” At Gideon’s look of askance, he explained. “She told me that her days will be filled with errands as she prepares for Lord Dewick’s arrival.”
“I see,” his brother murmured. “I know you and Olivia have had your differences, but I appreciate that you have been watching out for her in my absence. In truth, I have not been a very good friend.”
Neither have I.
“Don’t worry about Miss Lydall,” Thorn assured him. “The lady herself tells me that she can take care of herself.”
Since she unknowingly kept ending up in Thorn’s arms was proof that she was ripe for every fortune hunter and rogue.
“In London?” Even Gideon sounded unconvinced. “This is Olivia.”
“Then for our mother’s sake, we will continue to watch over her.” Ignoring his twin’s look of astonishment, he added, “The sweet lady is practically family.”
Chapter Thirteen
Perhaps she should have one of the servants place a sturdy lock on the gate in the back gardens. According to Lord Barthorpe, the current owner of the town house she and her father were renting, the original owner, Mr. Verdon, had installed the gate at the border of the property so he could discreetly visit his neighbor. The lady in question had married well, but it had been an unhappy marriage. Her only solace had been her gardens, and that was how she had met Mr. Verdon. Every afternoon, the gentleman took a walk in the garden at the
same hour as his neighbor. The couple walked together with the stone wall separating them as they discussed gardening, her children, and the latest gossip in the papers.
Five years later, Mr. Verdon commissioned the iron gate.
Lord Barthorpe could not confirm if the couple eventually became lovers, but it seemed likely. Their friendship spanned forty years until the lady’s death. Mr. Verdon lived another eight years before he succumbed to a longstanding illness. During those final years, the gardener had a standing order to oil and repair the gate as if Mr. Verdon expected his dear love to return to him one day.
When Lord Barthorpe had told Olivia the tale three years earlier during one of his visits to Treversham House, she had declared it a rather sweet testament to Mr. Verdon’s devotion to a lady he could never claim as his own.
Olivia pursed her lips as she thought about how furious she had been when she had returned to the library and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror with her hair disheveled and the front of her dress torn.
Curse it all, Gideon had been correct. The dress she had been wearing was ugly. It just infuriated her that he was a better judge of what was fashionable than she was.
I will not ask for his help!
“It would be too humiliating,” she muttered. “I will not do it.”
Olivia started at the sound of a knock.
She turned away from the window and cleared her throat. “Yes? You may enter.”
The butler opened the door and stepped inside. “Miss Lydall, are you receiving visitors this afternoon?”
She immediately thought of Gideon. He had told her that he would call on her today.
Probably to make certain I got rid of that ugly dress.
Olivia moistened her lips. “Is it a gentleman?”
“No, miss. The footman waiting downstairs presented me with five calling cards.” The butler glanced down at the silver salver in his left hand. “A Lady Felstead and her companions, which includes the Duchess of Blackbern, Lady Fairlamb, Lady Arabella, and Lady Fiona. Are you receiving?”
Had Gideon sent them? Lord Kempthorn? Lady Felstead had already been so generous with her time. Olivia had no intention of imposing on the lady so soon. “Yes. You may send them up right away.”
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 13
