"Of course." Cora grinned. "Behave yourself."
"Now where's the fun in that, Miss Cora?" Sir Steven tucked her hand around his arm. "Let's get you that drink, shall we?"
He seemed nice, and this certainly was a relatively safe public environment. Given that Cora was displaying all the signs of being fascinated with her new friend, Livvy strolled away, wondering if there was anywhere she could leave her jacket or if she had to go back out to the coatroom and the maid.
She walked the perimeter of the ballroom, nodding politely to the people who spoke to her as she moved around them. More than a few did, to her surprise, but there was an air of Victorian propriety throughout. Wishing someone "Good evening" wasn't a come-on but a courtesy here. It was different and she found it quite nice.
There were several extremely tall windows along one wall of the room and in each was either a statue or a plinth holding a statue. Groups of people formed, broke and reformed around these objets d'art.
But instead of marble or alabaster, these statues were brass. Some were traditional...a shining Cupid holding what might well have been some kind of lantern. But others...well, there was something that reminded Livvy of a Russian samovar, and beyond that a device which could have been either a telescope or a kaleidoscope or even her favorite--the death ray. Another contraption was huffing slightly, a gleaming piston rising and falling, a tiny funnel of steam emerging from a valve on the side. What it actually did, she could not figure out, even after staring at it for several minutes and listening to it tick along happily. She admired the intricate embossed designs, the tiny gears and levers, read pressure values on the gauges and still didn't have a clue.
"If you can identify what that thing does, you'll really impress everyone here tonight."
Livvy half-turned as a deep voice spoke close to her ear. She'd been so engrossed by the device she'd not heard him approach.
"You mean nobody knows?"
Looking up, her gaze landed on a man's face...and for the next second or two she forgot how to breathe.
He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And he was staring into her eyes as if he could fall into them and never come up for air.
Chapter Two
He couldn't stop watching her. She'd caught his eye the minute she'd stepped into the ballroom--Miss Olivia Medford. Olivia from Medford. That much he knew. She was with another woman, so logically they'd come to a costume party to enjoy the Steampunk experience and perhaps meet men.
He very much hoped so, because she was going to meet him and that would be it. Her life, as she knew it, was about to change.
Dane Lowell wasn't one to indulge in fanciful notions. His friends would have burst out laughing at the merest suggestion of such a thing. No, he was practical and logical to the N'th degree. But when this woman had entered his orbit, every male instinct he possessed went into overdrive. He felt like a pointer sighting a particularly tasty pheasant.
It hadn't taken long for him to realize that the Cosmos, in its infinite wisdom, had provided him with a mate. For tonight, at any rate. Whether it would continue, he didn't know, but it was the first time in years he could remember feeling his cock grow taut at the mere sight of a woman.
She wasn't even particularly beautiful in the traditional sense. Her hair was dark brown, her eyes the same shade. Her body was curved nicely in all the right places and the corset she was wearing did amazingly wonderful things for what he judged were acceptable breasts.
Her skin was creamy, warm-looking ivory silk, and it was probably her best feature since it made his fingers itch to touch it. Up close he was enchanted to see a tiny smattering of freckles here and there. Her nose was straight, her mouth full and her eyes--ordinary brown though they were--sparkled with the light of humor and intelligence.
The fact that she'd been staring at the most puzzling of his Steampunk pieces didn't hurt either.
Now she was staring at him, an expression of astonishment on her face. Some might have described that look as gob-smacked.
"Hullo. I'm Dane. Sir Dane Lowell if you want to be formal about it."
She blinked.
He reached out and let his finger touch beneath her chin, pushing up gently and closing her mouth. "And you are?"
"Umm..." She blushed, her cheeks coloring softly. "Embarrassed. My apologies, Sir Dane. You caught me by surprise. I'm Livvy." She recollected her surroundings. "Miss Olivia Medford."
"A pleasure, Miss...Livvy." Dane lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. Then he turned it over and pressed another to her palm, his eyes lingering on her face as he fleetingly touched the tip of his tongue to her skin.
He smiled at the confusion he saw and the flutter of her rapid heartbeat at the base of her neck. Her pupils dilated and she licked her lips. She was...attracted.
Their private dance had begun and Dane's evening trousers felt snug around his crotch at the thought of what lay ahead for the two of them.
"May I walk with you?"
"What?" She blinked again, obviously fighting some distracting thoughts.
"Let's stroll, shall we?" He held out his arm.
"Oh. Yes, that would be lovely."
Cautiously she placed her hand on his sleeve, imitating the gestures of other women in the room. They moved in tandem, avoiding other knots of guests.
"I believe there will be dancing soon." Dane glanced at a small dais where musicians were assembling to replace the recorded sounds of the calliope.
"Wonderful." She smiled. "I would hate for all those dancing classes I suffered through in school to go to waste."
"You waltz?"
"I do. Does that surprise you?" She peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes.
"A little, yes. These days the waltz seems relegated to the attic along with antimacassars, daguerreotypes and elixirs of various kinds."
"And yet we still have furniture covers, photos and amoxicillin in suspension."
Dane chuckled appreciatively. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
She chuckled back, the husky sound delighting him and stirring even more attraction deep in his loins. He prayed the period-appropriate trousers came with erection-appropriate stitching.
"Yes. Actually I am. I've probably read far too many historical romances for my own good, but this entire evening--the Victorian influence, the clothes, the manners--it all seems familiar and comfortable." She shrugged. "I can't explain it."
"Don't try," he advised. "Just be enchanted."
"Oh--that's a lovely way to describe it." She nodded emphatically, a few tiny feathers trembling in the jumble of doo-dads perched on top of her head.
"Look, if we walk over there you can take your jacket off and leave it with the footman. Then we can waltz together, if you'll agree?"
Dane was already steering her to one corner of the ballroom, where a man was gathering ladies' accoutrements and hanging them correctly on a rack behind a discreet and beautifully painted screen.
He helped her slip the snug garment off her shoulders and when her back came into view, he manfully refrained from running his tongue from her nape to her laces. It was quite a struggle though. When she turned around, it was even worse.
Her breasts mounded softly, thrust by the corset into position, making him yearn for a taste of them. He was fascinated by the shadow between them and found himself curious as to whether her nipples would be dark and enticing or pale and delicate. Either way, he knew he'd have to get his mouth on them soon or explode into tiny gobs of Victorian male, mixed with pieces of silk cravat.
She wasn't hesitant about making her opinion of his survey clear. "Yes, they are quite nice, aren't they? A matched pair." Her drawled comment drew his gaze back to her face where he saw a mildly amused expression accompanied by one raised eyebrow.
"Are they sensitive?"
"What?" She floundered, her sophisticated amusement slipping away like melting ice.
He moved closer and slipped his arm around her
waist, ostensibly leading her to the dance floor. "Your nipples. Your breasts. I'm wondering how hard I'll have to suck to make you tremble. Or if just a quick lick or two would work."
"I...uh..." A tiny shudder coursed through her, one he could feel where their bodies touched.
"I want you, Livvy from Medford. The minute I laid eyes on you it was all over for me."
"You did?" She stared at him, a blend of apprehension and confusion in her eyes. Mixed, he hoped, with more than a little excitement.
"I did. May I ask if you would be interested in dallying with me awhile tonight?"
Her lashes lowered as she hid her gaze. "You are blunt, Sir."
"I know what I want, Miss Livvy."
"What do you want?"
The music began, the strains of a waltz luring the dancers onto the floor. Dane eased them together, holding her close, delighting in the way their bodies melded so naturally. She moved easily, confidently, accepting his lead and following his steps as if they'd danced together all their lives.
He took a breath and drew her even closer so that he could keep his voice for her ears alone. "I want you. Naked. I want my hands on you and my lips on you. I want to taste you everywhere a man can taste a woman, from your toes to your eyebrows. And I want to linger in between, in places I'm going to make hot and wet and aching for my touch. I want to lie on top of you with my body crushing your soft breasts. I want you to lie on top of me, with your pussy pressing down on my cock, making it ache fiercely and need only one thing. To be inside you."
He heard her breath catch, then rasp deep in her lungs, as if she'd run a long distance instead of accomplished a few leisurely turns of a restrained waltz.
"I want to tease your clitoris, Livvy. I want to play with it, lick it, suck it, make you cry out and beg me to finish you. I want to make you come while my tongue's inside you, feeling and tasting you explode around it. And then I want to do it again, only with my cock this time."
"I..." Her breasts were rising and falling wildly, her fingers crushing his as she gripped him. "I don't know...I don't..."
"Neither do I." He stopped her, knowing somehow that she would want to deny her sexuality, her desires, to a man she'd only just met. "And yet tonight, with you, I want to. And I hope you want to as well."
He whirled her then, turn after turn, making them both dizzy. "Say yes, Livvy. Say yes. Be wild. Be free. Be a Victorian heroine taking the ultimate step with a lover while a waltz plays in the background and machines shine around you."
They finally came to a halt in a corner of the ballroom and stared at each other, Dane waiting--waiting with bated breath for her answer. "Let me pleasure you, Livvy. Life's too short to waste time on things that don't matter. This does."
"How can you be so sure? It's against everything I was raised to believe in." Her gaze met his squarely, asking for his understanding. And perhaps his persuasion...
"I know. I can't explain how I know. I just do. When you walked in here tonight it was like a blow to my heart. And what my heart wants...it's real." He touched her cheek in a soft caress. "Tell me you didn't feel something. Tell me you don't want me to touch you and I'll leave." He stepped back then, feeling the emptiness in his arms as he let her go. "Word of a gentleman."
She swallowed, a gentle undulation of the silky throat he longed to nibble on. The passing seconds seemed like eons to Dane until he saw her breasts rise with an indrawn breath.
In spite of his intention not to touch her, he couldn't resist moving closer so as not to miss what she was about to say.
He was glad he did.
She spoke quietly. "I can't lie, Dane. I want you too. So my answer is...yes."
*~*~*~*
What the hell am I doing? I've lost my mind. I could be killed. He might have just buried three other women in the basement...did I shave my legs? Why didn't I wear a thong instead of pantaloons?
Insanely inappropriate and unconnected thoughts ran through Livvy's mind as she let Dane take her hand and lead her to the very corner of the ballroom, where he pressed a piece of elegant paneling and a door swung open.
She wanted to exclaim, to stop and look more closely at the cleverly concealed exit, but he would have none of it.
"This way, my sweet." With a determined step he tugged her down some steps and along a carpeted hallway, lit only by a couple of lovely crystal sconces high on the paneled walls. "Here. In here."
With a quick whisk of her skirts she was inside--and once again gasping at the truly lovely library in which she stood. It could have come right out of some English country house magazine. There were deep green leather pub chairs, tufted and softened with age and wear, inviting a weary bottom to rest a while in them. A matching sofa ran the length of one wall, the floor was covered with an oriental rug, also in muted tones, and against the window stood a desk.
A fire crackled in the handsome fireplace, topped by a mantel with more brass on it, but this time smaller decorative pieces...almost fragile in appearance.
All these things registered on Livvy's consciousness but were quickly shoved aside by the sheer wonder of the books surrounding her. There must have been thousands of them. Some in glass fronted cabinets, others on open shelving. All gleaming, all looking as if they'd been read several times by someone who enjoyed them.
"Ohhh..." She breathed out the word and managed not to drool down into her cleavage. But it was close. This room, to a bookworm like Livvy, was the Valhalla of the afterlife. The Xanadu of her dreams. The whatever of whatever...her brain ran out of similes and just yearned.
A click behind her drew her back into the moment and she turned to see Dane extract a large key from the shining lock and hold it aloft. "The room is ours, Livvy. Our privacy is assured." He gestured at the massive sofa and the chairs. "We have our creature comforts if we need them, and a roaring fire for warmth." He neared her. "Although I don't think heat is going to be a problem."
She had to agree as his finger caressed her collarbone, bared by the revealing corset. His touch sparked a trail of fire that shot to her breasts and then arrowed down to land between her legs. Awkwardly, she shifted from foot to foot.
"Dane, I'm...I don't know what to do." She bit her lip. "This is not anywhere near what I've ever experienced."
He smiled, a gentle look of pleasure. "Do you have any idea how glad I am to hear that? To know I'm the first man to sweep you off your feet?"
"I'm not a virgin." Livvy's head snapped up. "Don't be thinking I'm untouched."
"I'm glad to hear it." He grinned. "Deflowering virgins isn't something that appeals to me." His finger wandered down to her cleavage and stroked. "You, on the other hand, do."
She caught his errant fingertip. "Do what?"
"Appeal to me."
His eyes were warm, shining bright blue in the light from the fire and the one lamp on the desk that provided illumination. His hair was longer than most men she'd met, just long enough to tie back at his nape. Dark and shining, it matched firm eyebrows, making the blue of his eyes even more unexpected.
It was a surreal moment as she surveyed him, and Livvy felt something inside her relax.
She lifted his hand to her mouth. "I'm glad you find me appealing." With deliberate slowness she parted her lips and slipped his finger inside, sucking it delicately and touching it with her tongue. Then she set him free. "It works both ways, Dane."
His tiny groan was enough to reward her for her boldness. She smiled at him, feeling the heat from the fireplace brush her bare back just as the heat between them flared to greater heights.
"God." He gulped, his cheeks flushing and his eyelids drooping a little over a gaze that drifted all over her. "You're wearing too many clothes."
"So are you." She reached out. "But I hate to disturb this lovely creation." Her fingers paused inches from his cravat.
"Disturb it, my sweet. Please." He grinned. "Disturb whatever takes your fancy. And to be honest there isn't much left that isn't disturbed."
&nbs
p; She chuckled as she glanced down to see a large bulge distending the front of his trousers. "As you desire, Sir Dane."
A quick tug and his soft silk cravat lay either side of the shirt buttons and she unfastened those next, revealing a firm chest with a light furring of hair. It arrowed downward as her unbuttoning progressed and she found herself eager to free the linen and reveal all of him.
"How about my jacket first? It'll get difficult otherwise. These things are cut to fit." He began to shrug from the dark garment then turned, a mute request for help. He was right. The jacket had been tailored for him and was surprisingly snug. But with a little effort she freed him and carefully laid the garment on a convenient side chair.
He tossed the cravat on top and toed off his dress shoes, watching her watch him as his socks followed.
"Better." His voice was quiet. "Now you."
She reached behind her, but he stopped her with a raised hand, then swirled it, indicating she should turn around. "I've always wanted to play lady's maid. Tonight, it would seem we're role-playing. Therefore, Miss, I will undress you, if you please."
Obediently she gave him her back, gasping beneath her breath at the leap of excitement his words elicited deep in her body. It flared higher as his hands roamed the nakedness above her corset.
"God, you have the softest skin."
She closed her eyes at the sensual brush of his lips over her shoulder blades and shivered at the moist fire left by his tongue as he licked down her spine.
"I can't wait to see you naked. In the firelight. I think I'll just have you stand like that for an hour or so while I torture myself thinking up all the ways I want to pleasure you and enjoy you."
Livvy couldn't help it. She moaned a little at the visions his words created in her mind. "You're damn good at this." She muttered the words like an oath.
His breath whooshed over her as he laughed. "Why thank you, Miss Olivia." He reached for the center of her back. "I'm going to remove your skirt now. We'll leave the corset for later. Right now I'm possessed of the strongest urge to fondle your bottom."
Letting Off Steam Page 2
