Janvier slid across the carriage and resumed his seat. ‘I understand. I hope you will continue to allow us to be friends.’
‘As long as we understand one another.’
‘We do. It will not happen again.’
The carriage came to an abrupt halt and as predicted there was a knock on the door. Once Janvier uttered his consent, the door to the carriage opened and the steps were lowered. ‘Until I see you again,’ he said, tipping his head respectfully.
Olivia nodded and allowed the footman to assist her onto the wet pavement as he held a large umbrella over her. Placing a hand on her stomach, she took a deep breath of the damp air and looked up at the vast expanse of her house. There were times when thoughts of retreating to the country with no men for miles appeared to be an excellent notion.
* * *
By this time of night, the fire in Gabriel’s study had died to a low flame. Hours before, he’d discarded his coat and reclined in his most comfortable chair in casual elegance, resting his feet on an embroidered footstool. Tonight he had chosen to reread the Iliad while he sipped his favourite port. He should have been completely relaxed. Except every so often, his attention was drawn to the bracket clock on the mantel.
Eventually Bennett informed him that Comte Janvier’s carriage had pulled up to the house. Glancing at the clock, Gabriel snapped his book shut and took note of the late hour. He walked into the entrance hall just as Olivia began to climb the stairs. She appeared lost in thought. He called her name softly, but she continued her ascent. He called to her again, this time a bit louder.
She jumped and turned towards him. This was not the way he would have preferred to begin seducing her. She approached him slowly, her concentration fixed on unbuttoning her gloves.
He searched for something to ask instead of questioning why she had remained out till such a late hour, making him worry for her safety. ‘Did you enjoy Madame Saqui?’
‘She was exceptional as always.’ The buttons on her right glove seemed to hold great interest and he realised she had yet to look him in the eye.
‘Would you care for my assistance with those?’
Her eyes finally met his and she smiled politely. ‘No, thank you. Were you on your way upstairs, or did my arrival disturb your work?’
He wondered if he was persistent in questioning her, if she would tell him what was occupying her thoughts. It was obvious something was troubling her.
‘I was just reading and heard you come in. Would you care to join me?’
She hesitated before she nodded and walked past him towards his study. Once inside she dropped those troublesome gloves on the table beside the chair he had vacated and walked towards the fire to warm her hands. Her delicate profile was illuminated in the soft glow and Gabriel took advantage of the opportunity to study the slope of her nose and her enticing bow of her lips.
Realising Janvier must have done nothing to warm her during their ride home, Gabriel went to the table near his desk and removed the stopper from the crystal decanter housing his favourite port. His gaze continued to shift to her as he poured the wine into a glass. By the time he reached her side it appeared her attention was back to her surroundings.
He held the glass out to her. ‘This should warm you.’
‘Thank you, although I truly am not that cold.’
Could her quiet demeanour be a result of his actions with Janvier? If he wanted to regain her favour, he needed to extend an olive branch of sorts. He was not accustomed to apologising, but there were times it was necessary.
‘Please forgive my behaviour with the Comte earlier this evening. I only wished to ensure that he would treat you with the utmost respect.’
She looked up from her glass. ‘You had said as much before I left. I accept your apology.’ Their eyes held as she slowly took a sip. Her small smile peeked out from the rim. ‘Giving a woman port while entertaining her in your study, what would people say?’
‘Some might say I am a man bent on seduction,’ he said with a quirk of his lips.
‘Only some?’
‘The others would just be shocked.’
‘For inviting a lady into your sacred domain or for plying her with port?’
‘Could I ply you with port to seduce you?’
Olivia slowly shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. ‘You forget that I am quite familiar with your methods.’
Their verbal sparring matches always made him smile. She looked away suddenly. He placed a finger on the side of her jaw and directed her gaze back to him.
‘And what are my methods?’
‘You will see that I drink just enough wine to lower my inhibitions sufficiently so that I agree to do things that, in the light of day, I would never consider.’
The air left Gabriel’s lungs and he laughed. ‘Well, Duchess, I am very familiar with you and know even without the assistance of drink you have done things no proper Duchess would ever consider doing in the light of day. You cannot blame wine for your actions.’
‘I have no idea what you are referring to,’ she said, raising her brows innocently. ‘I believe you have reached an age that causes one’s memory to falter.’
‘Is that so? So you never swam naked with me in a pond in Kent and then ravaged me on the shoreline?’
‘Ravaged is such a strong word.’
‘And you never tied me to your bed with your stockings while I slept, so I would be late for my morning appointments?’
‘As I recall you were late for all your appointments that day.’
‘Because we never left your bed.’
‘That was not entirely my fault.’
‘And then there was the time you dismissed the staff from serving dinner in the dining room.’
‘I simply wanted to converse with you without being overheard.’
‘Because you wanted to discuss which dessert tasted better on your skin.’
‘A discussion that should not be had in the presence of servants. Every Duchess is aware of that rule.’
‘What about the time you crawled onto my lap in a moving carriage of your own volition and whispered sweet suggestions in my ear, leaving me no choice but to take you then and there?’
She stilled, then sauntered to the chair he had recently vacated. His gaze was drawn to her shapely bottom, the curve of which would appear as she moved.
‘You appear to remember quite a bit of what I did years ago,’ she said.
‘You did some very memorable things. In fact, if memory serves, during one visit to see my parents did you not—’
‘Yes. Yes. You made your point. You had your moments as well.’
The annoyance in her tone made Gabriel laugh. He stepped closer, and she pick up his leather-bound book and cocked her head to read the spine.
‘How many times have you read this?’
‘I have lost count. In any event, that is Cowper’s version. It’s closest to the original text,’ he replied defensively.
She tossed the book on the table and reclined back in his chair. ‘I had forgotten how comfortable this chair was. It almost begs one to curl up with a book and not be proper.’ There was sadness in her eyes, as if she too had missed the happy times they had spent together.
‘And how improper did you want to be?’ he asked as his body was pulled by an invisible force to stand in front of her.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘I was referring to my posture.’
‘So was I,’ he replied, flashing her a devilish grin.
She shifted her gaze back to the fireplace. If only he knew what was whirling through that mind of hers. Perhaps he could distract her enough to erase the sadness in her eyes.
Slowly he removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the table. This didn’t seem to improve her m
ood, but he wasn’t finished. Lifting her effortlessly into his arms, he resumed his seat and settled her on his lap with her legs draped over the armrest. Then he handed her back her glass.
‘You were in my chair.’ It was as much an explanation of his action as he was willing to admit to her. He guided her hand with the glass to his mouth and took a sip of port.
‘I did not agree to share that with you,’ she said with a furrowed brow.
‘Would you care to have the wine back? I believe if you slip your tongue into my mouth you may taste some of the remnants.’
A smile tugged on the corner of her lips. ‘I am in a generous mood. You may keep the wine you have stolen.’
‘Unlike you, I do not mind sharing.’
She hid her smile with the rim of the glass and was forward enough to lick her lips slowly after taking a sip. It would be miraculous if she didn’t feel his arousal underneath that beautiful bottom of hers.
He wanted her. He wanted to taste those lips. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and not pull out until they both were completely spent.
Taking his finger, he angled her face towards him and lowered his lips to hers. At first he had to coax her to open up to him, but it didn’t take long before she was participating fully in the kiss—tasting like hot cherries from the port. Could he ever be this close to her without wanting to lose himself in her?
She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly pulled back.
‘I have no desire to ruin my gown with wine.’ She sat up and placed her glass on the table next to them. But instead of resuming their kiss she rested her head on his chest.
Did that kiss have no effect on her at all? Gabriel stared up at the ceiling debating if he should kiss her again. Then he felt Olivia’s fingers work on the knot at his throat.
‘Do not assume I am doing anything more than ensuring that I am not the only one who is slightly dishevelled,’ she said.
‘I would not dream of it.’
She wasn’t dishevelled in the least, but he wasn’t about to point that out.
As she sat up, she unwound the linen from his neck and carelessly dropped it over the side of his chair. ‘You looked a bit uncomfortable,’ she explained, placing her head back on his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his neck. ‘You are not considering picking that up and folding it neatly, are you?’
Surprisingly he hadn’t been, until she mentioned it, and then he sneaked a glance towards the rumpled linen on the floor and resisted the urge to pick it up. The graceful fingers of her left hand parted the opening of his shirt and she softly combed her nails around his neck.
He should not be the only one missing some attire. That hardly seemed fair. Knowing where he would begin, he trailed his hand over the curve of her hip, down her lovely leg to her dainty feet, where he removed one and then the other shoe.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I am simply returning the favour.’
‘Your heart is beating rather quickly. Are you well?’ she asked in an amused voice.
He skimmed his fingers up her leg to the back of her knee and was rewarded when she shivered. ‘I am well. Although I could be very well.’
‘Is there such a thing as being very well?’ Her warm fingers slid along his collarbone and traced the veins of his neck.
Closing his eyes at the sensation, he knew for certain there was such a thing as being very well. She enjoyed playing the unaffected minx, but when his fingers slid between her thighs he was pleased to discover she was slick.
Her body stilled and she parted her legs further for him. As he slid one and then a second finger inside her she clenched his collar. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out, spreading her wetness.
‘I believe this might constitute being very well,’ he commented with a satisfied grin.
‘It might,’ she moaned, moving her hips to his rhythm.
‘Now that hardly sounds promising. I think I need to try harder.’
‘Harder, yes.’
He pumped his fingers more forcefully. Her legs began to tremble. She was rubbing her face on his shoulder like a kitten and he was uncertain who wanted her to come more. He loved knowing he could make her feel this way.
‘Come for me, Livy.’
She crushed her lips to his. The kiss was urgent and demanding, and within seconds he swallowed her cry.
Gabriel kissed her softly. The small kisses she gave in return gave him hope that she still felt this burning attraction whenever they were together.
He cradled her in his arms. There were nights early in their marriage when he had held her in unguarded moments just like this. ‘I want you, Livy. I want you now.’
Her eyes met his. ‘Then let us go to bed.’
‘I cannot wait.’
‘Where would you like me?’
‘Here, in this chair.’
She appeared amused by his statement—amused and intrigued. ‘In this chair?’
‘You did say it was comfortable. I believe you remember how it is done.’
She glared at him until the corner of her lips twitched. ‘I do believe that would be highly improper for people of our station.’
Gabriel lowered his mouth so his lips were less than an inch from hers. ‘Blame it on the wine.’
He kissed her again, savouring her sweet taste. As she shifted on his lap, the friction did wonders for what was inside his breeches. Her hands were in his hair and his hands held the sides of her face, not wanting her to pull away.
She shifted again. Now she was straddling him, with her gown tangled up between them. He always loved this position and slid his hands around her to cup her bottom. She undid the buttons of his waistcoat as he trailed slow kisses along her jaw on the way to her neck. His tongue licked her skin. Every inch of her tasted like heaven.
Olivia worked frantically on the last few buttons of his waistcoat before she cried out in frustration. A gentleman’s duty was always to assist a lady in need. Pushing her hands aside, he pulled hard at the opening of his waistcoat. Buttons popped and flew to the floor.
Before long his waistcoat was off and all he could think about was losing himself inside her. She pulled his shirt over his head and it went sailing somewhere to his left.
They were kissing again and her warm hands slid over his chest. She had too many layers of clothing on. He reached for her breasts. Her stays had pushed them up so a good amount of them were already exposed. His hands were trying to lift them from their confines, but Olivia’s bloody dressmaker had her body secured tightly in her gown.
Gabriel moved his hands and tried to unfasten all the tiny corded loops on her back. It felt like hours before he was able to slide the sleeves of her gown down her shoulders. She pushed against his chest, stood and shimmied out of her gown till it pooled at her feet.
If their heated kisses hadn’t made his body burn, the outline of Olivia’s curvaceous form through her chemise with the light from the fireplace behind her was incinerating him.
Jumping to his feet, he kissed her hard, trying to give his body time to calm down enough so he wasn’t throwing her over the chair and pounding into her.
She moaned and it almost did him in.
He tugged on the silk ribbon of her stays and she broke the kiss to remove it. Their eyes locked. He took hold of the linen near her thigh, lifted her chemise over her head and threw it behind her. A faint whoosh sound came from the fireplace and the firelight flared. They looked in unison as the remnants of her chemise were swallowed up by the flames. She shifted her open-mouthed stare to him, then pressed her lips firmly together.
‘I’ll buy you twenty more,’ he said and sucked on the tip of her breast until her back bowed.
She was so warm—and tasted so good. He practically tor
e off his trousers before he lavished attention on the other breast. He needed to be inside her and he was going to do it now in that chair. Olivia let out a soft gasp when he picked her up and tugged her down onto his lap.
Within minutes she shifted and straddled him again. The feel of her warmth as she slid down over him brought a groan from his lips. He didn’t even need to move her. She was setting a rhythm on her own. He was in heaven. Nothing existed outside this room and the only thing he was aware of was the woman above him. He dropped his head back as she picked up the pace and rotated her hips. His hands fell away at his sides. She could do anything to him at that moment and he would let her. He would grant her any request.
It was impossible to steady his breathing when he watched himself enter Olivia—again and again. The delicious friction would soon be his undoing.
He needed to go deeper inside of her and coaxed her to shift positions so she was kneeling on the seat of the wingback chair facing away from him and he was standing behind her. The first time he entered her, he drove himself so deep he almost came with that first thrust. He tried to hold back his release as long as he could, entering her again and again. Eventually his mind shattered into a million pieces as he came. When she let out a raspy cry and her body collapsed against the chair, he knew she had found her pleasure again.
Dropping his head down on her back, he wrapped his arms tightly around her limp form. The erratic pounding of her heart matched his own. He had no notion how long they remained that way, just that he had the strongest desire not to let her go—ever. It was a notion that unsettled him.
Eventually he released her. Her cascading sable hair shone in the firelight, the pins were lost somewhere in and around his chair. She looked sinful. She looked like a woman thoroughly satisfied. She looked like a woman he would have an impossible time putting aside again.
He sat back in the chair, cradling her on his lap.
When her lips rose into a mischievous grin, that dimple he always adored appeared on her left cheek. ‘This was entirely your idea.’
UNCOMMON DUKE, AN Page 11
