He removed her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “You could have mentioned this earlier.”
She shrugged. “I could have but that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”
He stared at her. He’d been resisting her from the moment she’d walked in the door when he could have been—“You’ve been toying with me.”
She smiled wickedly.
“Is that all you’ve remembered? You still don’t know your name or anything else?”
She paused. “No.”
He studied her for a long minute. “That is a pity.” He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I would never take carnal advantage of a woman who did not know her own name. It would be morally reprehensible.”
“Not at all.” She shook her head firmly. “Naughty perhaps but not reprehensible.”
“Ethically wrong.”
“Oh, perhaps a mistake in judgment but certainly not wrong,” she said quickly.
“And utterly unforgivable.”
“No, no, don’t be absurd.” She scoffed. “I could forgive you. I do forgive you. Why, you haven’t even done anything yet and I forgive you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“Still, I’m not sure—”
“Oliver!”
“Very well then.” He moved closer and yanked her into his arms. “You should have told me sooner.”
“But this was so much fun.”
He lowered his head and nibbled at a lovely spot where her neck met her shoulder. “Oh but we could have been having so much more.”
“We shall simply have to make up for it then.” She pushed his dressing gown off his shoulders and it fell to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her tighter against him, the heat of her body searing him through the layers of her clothes and his. His lips met hers and she tasted of brandy and mystery and forever. Need, urgent and unyielding, gripped him and dashed away any reservations.
He caressed the small of her back and the luscious curves of her derrière. Her fingers tunneled through his hair and her mouth opened to his, with a hunger and greed he shared. He pulled her tighter against him and slanted his mouth over hers again and again. She ground her hips against his and he groaned aloud with the pleasure of it and the promise of pleasure to come.
Kate gathered the fabric of his nightshirt in her hand until her fingers rested on the bare flesh of his leg. Oliver shuddered, drew a deep breath and stepped back. He pulled his shirt off and let it fall.
Her gaze slid down his body, “Oh my, you are very pleased to see me.”
“Not as pleased as I will be.” He started toward her.
She held out her hand to stop him, then pulled her nightdress over her head and tossed it aside. She brushed her hair away from her face and straightened her shoulders. For a long moment he could do nothing but stare at her. Her ivory skin was aglow with the light from the gas lamp and flushed with desire. Her breasts were full and round, her waist narrow, her hips lush and inviting.
“Oliver.” She swallowed hard. “If you don’t find me or you don’t want or—”
“Kate.” There was an odd, tremulous feeling deep inside him and he knew it was more than mere desire. “I have wanted you forever.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. “I have waited for you forever.”
“Five hundred years,” she murmured.
He chuckled softly. “At least.”
He laid her on the bed and she pulled him down beside her. He nuzzled the hollow of her throat and trailed kisses between her breasts. He cupped one perfect breast with his hand and took her nipple into his mouth. She gasped, her fingers running restlessly over his shoulders and his back. He teased the hard, erect point with teeth and tongue until her breath came fast and then shifted his attention to her other breast. His hand roamed over the flat of her stomach and drifted lower to caress the curve of her hips and her leg.
She threw one leg over his and shifted to straddle him, his erection behind her. She sat up and stared down at him.
“I believe I was seducing you, Oliver.” Kate leaned forward, her hair falling around her face, and trailed light kisses along his jaw and neck. Her tongue teased the base of his throat and her hands explored the planes of his chest. She took his nipple between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue and he sucked in a sharp breath.
She stretched out on top of him and delicious shock at the press of flesh to flesh coursed through him. His arousal nestled between her legs and she nibbled at the lobes of his ears then moved her lips to his. His tongue danced and dueled with hers. Heat pulsed in his veins. Her body rocked against him. He could feel the wet evidence of her desire. And his own excitement increased.
“And now, Kate.” He locked his leg around hers and in one quick motion, turned until she lay beneath him. “I am doing the seducing.”
He positioned himself between her legs, and got to his knees. She stared up at him, her green eyes dark with passion. He leaned over her and ran his tongue in a measured and teasing manner around one nipple and then the next. Her hands clutched at the bed and it was all he could do to restrain himself from taking her right now. He traced slow, lazy circles on her stomach with his tongue and felt her muscles tighten beneath his touch.
His fingers toyed with the curls at the meeting of her thighs then he slipped his hand between her legs. She gasped and arched upward. She was wet and slick and hot. His fingers stroked the heated folds of flesh and the hard point of her passion, over and over in an ever-increasing rhythm and he watched her respond to the pleasure he provoked. Her eyes were glazed, her skin flushed and her breath came faster. He wanted her to enjoy, to revel in the sensations he caused. His own need, hard and aching, grew with every breath she took. Every moan that broke from her lips reverberated deep inside him in a hot pool of desire.
He could feel the tension in her body building and knew with unquestioned instinct when she could take no more. When he could bear no more.
She gasped. “Oliver.”
“Kate.” He leaned in to nuzzle her neck and his chest grazed the hardened peaks of her breast. “Mysterious, wonderful Kate.”
He straddled her and braced himself with one arm. Then guided his member into her, slowly with a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, he slid into her tight, wet fire. His breath caught with the sheer sensation that swept from her body through his. He pushed deeply into her and paused, then withdrew in a deliberate manner. She wrapped her legs around him and he thrust deeply again and again until a primal urge as old as man gripped him. And he knew nothing but the throbbing pleasure of being one with her. And existed only as a creature of sensation, ruled by passion, fueled by desire.
Faster and harder he thrust into her. She met him stroke for stroke and arched against him. Blood pounded in his ears and he felt her convulse around him in a long, explosive climax that roared through his veins and seared his soul. She cried out and her legs tightened around him. He shuddered hard with his own endless release and wondered that he wouldn’t shatter with the glory of it. And die a happy, happy man.
They collapsed together and lay with heaving breath still joined for long moments. He didn’t want to pull out of her, didn’t want to end his body being one with hers. In truth, he wasn’t sure he had the strength.
At last he drew a deep breath, braced himself on his forearms and lifted up to stare down at her.
She smiled at him, the dreamy sort of smile of a woman well satisfied, a woman well loved, and his heart skipped a beat.
“I knew there were any number of things you were good at.” Her voice was low and sultry.
He chuckled, shifted to lay by her side and took her in his arms. “I’m glad you were not disappointed.”
“Oh, Oliver.” Her gaze met his. “You are more than I could have hoped for.”
“As are you.” He brushed his lips across hers and realized he could be content to lay like this, with her in his arms for the rest
of his days.
“I should probably go before the servants are up.”
“Kate.” He smiled. “I’m glad you came.”
“As am I, Oliver.” Her lips whispered against him. “As am I.”
Kathleen stretched her arms over her head and grinned at the coffered ceiling in her bedroom. What a lovely ceiling it was. What a glorious day this would be. And what a wonderful night last night had been.
A man didn’t make love to a woman like Oliver had if he didn’t care for her, if he didn’t love her. Certainly, as she’d only ever shared the bed of one other man her experience in this regard was limited. Still, there were things that didn’t rely on experience or memory, things a woman simply knew. Neither Oliver nor she had actually said the words, but she knew.
She scrambled out of bed and moved to the mirror. She stared at her image. She looked as different as she felt today. It struck her that she was happy, truly happy. Why, she positively glowed. She had the look of a woman well loved. It had been a very long time since she’d been well loved. And a very long time since she’d been happy.
Kathleen clasped her hands in front of her and drew a deep breath.
“Oliver, I have remembered everything. I am Kathleen MacDavid and I am indeed nearly thirty years of age. My husband died nine years ago and until last night, I had never been with another man. My family dabbles in magic, generally without success although recent developments may prove me wrong. Your family and mine were cursed five hundred years ago and unless you and I join in marriage both families will come to an end and dreadful things will happen to all of us.” She cast her image a bright smile. “And, oh yes, I believe I have fallen in love with you.” She laughed aloud. She still sounded like something of an idiot but it scarcely mattered. She certainly wouldn’t love Oliver any less if he sounded like an idiot.
She would tell him tonight at the ball, in his arms under the stars. It would be the perfect place and time. She would tell him everything. Who she was, why she was here and that she’d fallen in love with him.
Certainly, he might be somewhat…bothered by her revelations. She had come to England with the explicit purpose of marrying him after all, but she hadn’t had any sort of plan. Her loss of memory—if not caused by Hannah—was certainly not intentional. At least not on her part.
No, Oliver was a rational, sensible man, if something of a romantic, and was not averse to marriage. He might be unwilling to marry to break a centuries old curse but he would marry for love.
She ignored the thought that just possibly he might not see it that way.
Chapter 15
It was a perfect night. Rain had threatened all day but now the skies had cleared and stars shone between the clouds. The terrace and the gardens were set with tents and fluttering banners in the colors of the season. Miniature lanterns echoed the starlight and everywhere lights twinkled. Kathleen had helped Lady Norcroft, her nieces, Mr. Berkley, and an assortment of footmen in decorating the grounds, but she’d had no idea the result would be so enchanting. The day had been chaotic. At one point Lady Norcroft had claimed a last-minute errand in the village and had vanished for a few hours. Now, the ball was drawing to a close and Kathleen had the satisfying feeling of a job well done.
She was rather pleased with herself as well. Even though they had agreed on the color and the fabric, Kathleen had never imagined Madame DuBois could create a gown that was nothing less than perfect. Indeed, when she had gazed in the mirror tonight, even knowing who she was, she had scarcely recognized herself. The style was the latest in fashion, revealing and provocative without being scandalous and Kathleen looked perfect in it. Madame’s skills could truly be called magic.
Now, Kathleen stood to one side of the terrace, watching the dancers, a glass of punch in her hand, Oliver by her side. As he had done all evening, he scanned the crowd, keeping a close eye on his cousins and Mr. Berkley.
In Kathleen’s experience, it was an unusual ball. Everyone in attendance was wearing their best but there was scarcely a diamond brooch or emerald bracelet in sight. Guests were not limited to landed or wealthy families. Villagers were invited as were tenants and neighboring families. This was, Lady Norcroft had explained, how the Harvest Ball had always been and how it would always be. The tradition of inviting everyone in the county had begun long before she had become the countess of Norcroft and, she assured Kathleen, it would continue well after she was gone. For one and all on this night, the grounds of Norcroft Manor had become a place of welcome and magic where anything could happen.
“Anything,” Kathleen said softly.
Oliver glanced at her. “Did you say something?”
She smiled with the sheer delight of the evening. “I was just noting how very magical this is tonight.”
He chuckled. “It’s remarkable what a few lights and music will do.”
“I don’t think it’s the lights and the music.”
“It’s the feel in the air then.” He leaned against the balustrade and watched the dancers. “I always feel it at this time of year. There is a sense of anticipation. The feeling that something is about to happen. Something quite remarkable.”
She raised a brow. “Winter?”
“That too.” He laughed. “It’s quite a fanciful notion I suppose and probably makes no sense at all.”
“No, I know exactly what you mean. On a night like this, one feels that almost anything is possible.”
He flashed her a suggestive grin. “Indeed one does.”
“Oliver Leighton.” She took a sip of her punch. “You are a wicked, wicked man.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“I like it.”
“You are a mysterious woman, Kate.”
“Am I?” She forced a light laugh. “I should think after last night there is little mystery left. I have no more secrets.”
He chuckled. “Other than your life, which remains a secret for both of us, I suspect you have any number of private secrets I shall quite enjoy discovering.” He paused for a moment. “Kate, I have been meaning to discuss that with you.”
“Private secrets? Here? My goodness, Oliver, you are an adventurer.”
“I certainly would be if that was what I meant. I have decided it’s time, past time really, to take matters in hand.”
“It did seem to me you took matters quite admirably in hand last night,” she murmured.
“Indeed I did.” He leaned closer to her. “And I have every intention of doing so again.” He straightened and his tone sobered. “However I decided last night—”
“When did you find the time?”
He choked back a laugh. “Last night before I was interrupted—”
“My apologies.”
“Not accepted and I shall certainly expect you to make amends.”
She sipped her drink. “Tonight perhaps?”
“I was thinking the same thing. What a remarkable coincidence.”
“We have a great deal in common, Oliver.”
“Indeed we do. Now, as I was saying, I intend to have my solicitor engage the services of an investigator to find out who you are.”
“Do you?” The tiniest hint of panic touched her, but she brushed it away. There was no need to be concerned. Oliver would have his answers long before he could write, much less send, a letter. Kathleen fully intended to tell him everything at the end of the evening. Or perhaps later tonight when she was in his bed. Or possibly tomorrow. The right moment had simply not yet presented itself, nor had the right words. It was important to tell him everything in the proper way. And important as well that she be the one to do the telling. “Somehow, I doubt that will be necessary.”
“Kate.” His tone was gentle as if she were a fragile, delicate creature and guilt washed through her. “I know you have remembered a few facts about your life—”
“I am remembering more every day.”
He cast her a sympathetic look. “Are you content to wait? For an answer that might never come
?” He shook his head. “I have never considered myself an impatient man but I confess my patience has grown thin.” He nodded at the gathering. “The guests here tonight, whether they are from neighboring estates or the village, very nearly every family here has been connected in some way with my family and Norcroft Manor for generations. I like that. I like the sense of continuation, of the past, that is ever present here. And never is it as strong as it is during this Harvest Ball.” He slanted her a quick glance. “Do I sound absurd?”
“No. You sound quite like an earl should.”
He laughed. “That’s something I suppose.” He paused to choose his words. “And this particular earl would like nothing better than to introduce you to these people with a name that is truly yours.”
Her heart fluttered and she realized how very lucky she was to have found this man. Whether the curse was real or not it had led her to him and for that she would be forever grateful. “That’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“That you can recall,” he said wryly. For a long moment he watched the dancers. “What I’m trying to say is that without a solid basis in the past, life cannot go on toward the future. And I would very much like to look toward the future.”
“I see.” She considered him thoughtfully. This wasn’t how she had envisioned it, but perhaps this was the right time to tell him she knew all about her past. She drew a deep breath. “Oliver.”
“Yes?”
She set her glass on the balustrade and clasped her hands in front of her. “I have something to tell you.”
He grinned wickedly. “Something about making amends perhaps?”
“Probably not.” Blast it all, the words still wouldn’t come. This was absurd. An honest, forthright approach would be best. She should just tell him. Very well then. “Oliver.” She shifted her gaze from his as if to find the right words lingering in the air somewhere just past his shoulder. “I remember…”
“Yes?”
On the other side of the terrace, a tall, distinguished older man was kissing Lady Norcroft’s hand. Even from this distance there was an air about him, something in the way he stood perhaps, that said he was the type of man a wise woman should be wary of but would not be nonetheless. He turned to lead Lady Norcroft into the dance and Kathleen caught a glimpse of his face. She sucked in a hard breath.
Seduction of a Proper Gentleman (Last Man Standing) Page 17
