His Wicked Heart

by Darcy Burke

  He clasped her waist and drew her pelvis forward to his mouth. One long finger traced down her mound and grazed the nub at the top of her most private place. She bucked against him in need. His hand moved between her legs and parted her thighs. Gently, he stroked her heated flesh, coaxing murmurs of delight from her mouth.

  He slid one finger into her tight warmth, and she gripped his hair. Then his mouth descended and sucked that nub into a fevered heat. Olivia laid her head back against the wall and let the sensations overwhelm her. His mouth worshipped her while his finger met her thrusts. Then there were two fingers, and that was so much better. He pumped her and licked her, and coherent thought left her brain.

  Then he turned her against the wall. Her swollen nipples pressed against the hard surface. She turned her head to the side, gasping as she hovered near the brink. Why had he stopped?

  His finger traced down her back, followed by his tongue. Shamelessly, she pushed back against him. His hands cupped her bottom, and he licked the base of her spine.

  “Kneel,” he said.

  She’d no idea what he’d do next, but she trusted him. Yes, by God she trusted him. She kneeled and he pivoted her body so that she was lengthwise on the bench, with the wall to her right. He moved behind her and stroked her bottom again. Then her back. Slow, languorous touches that didn’t come close to satisfying her. She pushed backward, seeking something, anything that would bring her release.

  One of his hands left her body for a moment. Then he clasped her hips and brought her back. His hot flesh nudged her cleft. God, yes. Olivia pressed back and he sheathed himself inside of her. She wrapped her fingers around the edges of the bench.

  He stayed like that a moment. Her flesh accepted him, and very quickly she wanted him to move. Slowly, agonizingly, he withdrew and then just as slowly entered her again. He moved one hand up her side and reached around to her breast. He plucked at her nipple as he continued his slow penetration and withdrawal. In, out, in, out. Sensations built inside of her, and she couldn’t keep herself from moving back and forth with his rhythm. But it wasn’t fast enough. She wanted more.

  She reached back and grabbed his thigh urging him faster. He complied, spearing himself inside of her with delicious force. Faster now, he pumped. He moved his hand from her breast and rubbed it along her upper back until he cupped the back of her neck. He pulled her head back and ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. “Come for me,” he whispered.

  His other hand wrapped around her hip and flicked her sex. Olivia cried out as sheer bliss ruptured any semblance of calm and sent her over the edge of sanity. She squeezed her eyes shut and still saw light. Blinding, beautiful, soul-shattering light.

  He clasped her hips again and drove deep, pummeling her until he cried out.

  His rhythm slowed. Olivia rested on her elbows, letting her head fall forward as she came back to earth.

  After a few minutes, Jasper stood and helped her to a sitting position. He found a cloth and handed it to her to wipe herself, turning his back to offer a bit of privacy. Then he came back and scooped her into his arms.

  She gasped. “Careful! What about your shoulder?”

  “It’s fine. It barely pains me at present.”

  She gave him a mock frown. “Still, I worked hard on those stitches and prefer you kept them in place.”

  He carried her to the bed and laid her atop the coverlet. He stared down at her and exhaled. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

  She smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” She scooted to the side and pulled the covers down. “Now take off your clothes and get in here with me.”

  He quickly complied and soon they were in the cool softness of the bed, Olivia wrapped tight in his arms, her head against his chest. “Do you have to go?” she asked.

  “Not right away. Seems a shame to let a naked female in bed go to waste.”

  She grinned up at him. “A shame indeed.” She kissed his nipple, and he sucked in a breath. “I look forward to when you don’t have to leave.”

  “Very soon, my love.” He kissed her forehead and then turned her to her back. He rose over her with a wicked leer. “But first...”

  Olivia pushed him over and climbed on top of him. “You mustn’t overwork your shoulder.”

  “I do love a commanding woman.” He chuckled. “I’m yours.”

  “Forever,” she said, as she brushed her lips over his.

  “Forever.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  FOREVER, IT turned out, was much shorter than Jasper realized. He’d secreted himself out of Olivia’s bedroom when the morning sun had just begun to flirt with the horizon. He rode his horse out of Louisa’s mews wearing a wide grin and humming a ridiculous tune.

  It was so early, he noted, that he could keep his dawn appointment with Clifton if the man was stupid enough to meet him. But presumably the duke had taken care of this. Perhaps he’d even sent word to Saxton House, not that Jasper had been there to receive it.

  When Jasper entered his townhouse, he was immediately greeted by his bespectacled butler, Thurber, who appeared as unruffled at daybreak as he did at midnight. The man—another of his rescued retainers—was unnatural.

  He inclined his head at Jasper. “May I offer congratulations, my lord?”

  Jasper slowed as he entered the hall. “For?”

  “Your nuptials.”

  Ice filled Jasper’s veins. “What do you know of my wedding?”

  “A note arrived a few hours ago from His Grace. He delivered it personally. He was, ah, rather pleased and shared the news with us directly.” Thurber handed him the missive.

  Jasper felt like he’d swallowed a jar of lead. He opened the parchment and the marble seemed to fall away beneath him.

  I’ve taken care of Clifton and his newspaper nonsense. I took the opportunity to share the news of your engagement with his friend, who was more than happy to print that story instead of the fabrication Clifton provided.

  You’ve made me very proud.

  Holborn.

  Bloody, bloody hell. His engagement to Philippa was going to be in the newspaper. That very morning. Hours from now all of London would know he was to be married—but to the wrong bride. Jasper crumpled the missive in his fist. There was no way he could stop it.

  OLIVIA and Louisa stepped out of their coach on Bond Street at ten o’clock for their appointment with the boot maker. Olivia thought of Mr. Beatty and his daughter. Instead of him crafting her a pair of boots with whatever was left from his clients, she’d now have the most fashionable—and likely most expensive—boot available. Although she knew Jasper had helped Mr. Beatty, she wanted to share some of her good fortune with him and his family.

  “Louisa, would you mind terribly if I visited a few people I knew from before? I should like to ascertain their welfare and perhaps ensure they have a comfortable winter.”

  Louisa beamed. “You’re every bit as generous as Jasper. Such a benevolent pair you’ll make.”

  They were just about to step into the shop when they heard, “Louisa!” Lady Badby made her way toward them, her overlarge hat swaying atop her head. Olivia and Louisa paused and waited for her to arrive.

  “Good morning!” she huffed. “I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your nephew’s betrothal. It’s not a surprise, of course, but a sad day for hopeful young ladies all over England.”

  Louisa glanced at Olivia but revealed not a bit of surprise. “Thank you, Augusta.”

  “Do you know when the wedding is to take place? I presume they’ll wed at St. Paul’s. Don’t you agree? But then perhaps you don’t know. I’m sure his bride is considering her options.”

  Lady Badby didn’t so much as look at Olivia, which gave Olivia to understand that she was not the bride, regardless of what Jasper had told her just a few hours before. Her hands began to shake, and so she clamped them together at her waist.

  “Ah, well, I must be off. Oh, there’s Lady Dalrymple. I w
onder if she’s heard…” Lady Badby took herself off.

  Louisa turned to Olivia and pulled her into the doorway of the boot maker. “I don’t know what to say, dear. I’ve no idea what happened.”

  Nor did Olivia, but neither would she reveal to Louisa what had transpired last night. Her humiliation over trusting Jasper was more than she could admit to herself.

  But it didn’t make sense! He hadn’t ever lied to her, and she didn’t think he’d started last night. Not after what they’d shared. And not when he’d felt so terrible about compromising her virtue in the first place.

  “I’m all right, Louisa.” She wasn’t, but she was trying to be. There had to be an explanation. If there wasn’t, she was glad she’d left her valise half packed.

  JASPER drummed his fingers on the mantle in the drawing room of Herrick House while awaiting the arrival of the earl. This was going to be a very distasteful meeting.

  Lord Herrick entered. He was a tall, lean man with thick, dark hair and a stoic demeanor. Where Lady Philippa was charming and witty, her father was colorless and serious.

  “Good of you to save me the trouble of calling on you this morning, Saxton. I received your note early this morning and saw the Times, but since when are you betrothed to my daughter?”

  He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Lady Philippa swept into the room. “Since never,” she said. “Lord Saxton proposed, but I declined. What I should like to know is how the ‘news’ came to be in the paper.”

  Jasper wouldn’t dispute her story. It was the best way for her to retain her sparkling reputation. He couldn’t fault her a bit for coming up with it. “It appears to be a misprint, Lady Philippa. Perhaps a rumor gone amok. I deeply regret its consequences.”

  Lord Herrick had stood quietly watching their exchange, but now he spoke up quite furiously. “This is a disaster. Philippa’s marital prospects will be ruined.” He directed his dark gaze on his daughter. “Philippa, you’ll marry him anyway.”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve no wish to marry him.” She elevated her chin, and Jasper couldn’t tell if she spoke the truth or not. He deeply regretted disappointing her if she’d hoped for a proposal.

  Her father glowered. “Think of your reputation.”

  “I’d rather think of my future happiness.” She speared her father with a rather pointed stare that Jasper found curious. “I’ve decided we will not suit.” She turned her attention to Jasper. “My lord, will the Times print a retraction stating the news was false?”

  “I’m confident they will. I’ll do everything in my power to lessen any impact upon you.”

  She gave a slight nod, but it was enough for Jasper to conclude she was not unhappy. “Then it’s settled. I shall expect you to manage the gossip to your best ability.”

  “I appreciate your understanding. Again, I apologize for this grave error. I truly have no idea how it could’ve occurred.”

  She nodded, and Jasper took that as a conclusion to the interview. He bowed to her and to Lord Herrick and left, relief quickening his step.

  That had gone far better than he’d imagined. Now, if only his meeting with the duke would end so well.

  OLIVIA followed Louisa up the stairs to Jasper’s townhouse. Her nerves were on edge; she wasn’t at all certain she wanted to see Jasper. She was too afraid of what he might say. That last night had been a dream, or worse, a lie.

  Louisa, however, insisted the columnist who’d reported the engagement had erred, and she intended to question Jasper about it immediately.

  Jasper’s butler admitted them into the cavernous marble entry. It was easily twice as large as Louisa’s. “Good morning, Lady Merriweather, Miss West. Lord Saxton is currently out. Would you care to join His Grace in the drawing room?”

  Louisa’s brows shot up. “His Grace is here?”

  “Indeed,” the butler said. “He’s been waiting half an hour, though I informed him I didn’t know when Lord Saxton would return.”

  Louisa turned to Olivia. “This is a bit curious. Yes, Thurber, we’ll wait with my brother.”

  They followed the butler straight through the entry to the drawing room. The duke stood upon their arrival. He’d clearly been drinking tea—it looked as though he’d been here awhile.

  He smiled at them, or at least Olivia surmised it was supposed to be a smile. His lips pulled back, but his frosty gaze just didn’t match the expression. “Louisa, Miss West.”

  “Holborn, what are you doing here? I can’t recall the last time you visited Saxton at this hour of the day, let alone waited for him.”

  “Surely you saw the Times this morning?” he asked.

  “Actually, no. We had an early appointment, and I planned to read the paper at luncheon.”

  “And here I assumed you’d come to congratulate Jasper on his betrothal to Lady Philippa.”

  Olivia’s knees weakened, but she managed to stay standing. Louisa touched her arm.

  “I’m here to discuss specifics with Saxton,” the duke continued.

  “I see,” Louisa murmured. She cast an apologetic glance at Olivia, but it seemed to mask another emotion—anger perhaps. Her bright blue eyes flashed. “When do you expect this blessed event to take place?”

  “By the end of October, I should imagine.”

  “Pity. Olivia and I had planned to travel to York for the autumn. I suppose we could return for the wedding.” She gave Olivia’s arm a squeeze.

  “I should hope so. You and Saxton are quite close, and of course, you’re both more than welcome.” He attempted the grotesque semblance of a smile again.

  There was something most suspicious about his behavior. He’d never treated Olivia with anything bordering kindness, let alone civility. Most often, he made rude comments and cast her disparaging looks. Why was he attempting to be pleasant now? Was it because his son was marrying the woman he’d selected?

  “Well, we needn’t stay, dear,” Louisa said. “Clearly Saxton has business this morning.” They turned to go, but the duke stopped them.

  “Is there something I can tell Saxton for you? The reason for your visit, perhaps?”

  Louisa turned her head and gave him a cool smile. “No, thank you, Holborn.”

  They walked toward the door and had to stop short as Jasper stood at the threshold. His gaze softened when he looked at Olivia, and again her knees threatened to give way.

  “Pardon us, Saxton.” Louisa’s tone dripped frost. “We understand you and Holborn are discussing wedding details this morning.”

  Jasper’s brow arched, and he looked past them at the duke. “Indeed? I had no knowledge of such an appointment. If I had, I would have been saved the journey to Holborn House this morning.” He glanced at Olivia and gave her a mischievous wink. What was he up to? “I regret to inform you, Holborn, that I will not be marrying Lady Philippa. As it happens, she has no desire to marry me.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  JASPER WATCHED the play of emotions over Olivia’s face. With her back to the duke, she let everything show—anger, surprise, and now suspicion. He wanted to tell her that the announcement was entirely Holborn’s doing—and he would—but he’d already reasoned that it was easiest and best for everyone if he allowed Holborn to believe what Philippa had told her father: that she’d refused Jasper.

  There would be time enough for him to accept Jasper’s marrying Olivia, which would now have to happen in the quiet of York or somewhere equally distant from London in order to preserve Philippa’s reputation. He didn’t think Olivia would mind. In fact, he rather thought she’d prefer a wedding outside the spectacle of Society. He knew he would. His pulse raced at the thought. He wanted to leave with her today.

  Holborn strode toward him with fury etched in his features. Olivia and Louisa moved to the side. “Did she refuse you because of your behavior last night? I can’t believe you hit someone in the middle of a ball. Did I raise an animal?”

  Olivia stepped forward. “It was my understanding, Your Grace,
that Saxton was protecting Lady Philippa’s honor. Surely you can’t find fault with that.”

  Jasper tried not to let his mouth hang open. Given what Olivia knew at this moment—that Jasper had planned to marry Philippa while he was making love to and proposing to her—he couldn’t believe she was defending him. And defending his violence! He ached to wrap her in his arms and declare his unworthiness.

  “I can, and I do find fault.” He glowered at her a moment before turning his anger on Jasper. “We had an agreement.”

  “Yes, and I met my side of the bargain. I can’t force Lady Philippa to do anything she doesn’t wish.” And because he couldn’t resist the taunt, he added, “Would you have wanted me to compromise her as publicly as possible?”

  Olivia sucked in a breath, and Jasper regretted saying it. He was going to have a job convincing her he wasn’t the greatest ass in England.

  “I wanted you to honor our agreement. You give me no choice.”

  Jasper’s patience fled. He advanced on Holborn until they stood nearly nose to nose. “You gave me no choice, and now, through no fault of my own, I’m going to make my choice. There will be no marriage with Lady Philippa.”

  The duke stared up at him—Jasper had a solid two inches over the man—in mute fury. The muscles in his jaw worked while his gaze cast a chill that could likely be felt in Sussex.

  “Are you going to marry that chit?” He jerked his head toward Olivia.

  Jasper’s blood sang. “I am.”

  “You ruin the title.”

  “No, I enhance it,” Jasper spat with glee. “Just as you taught me to do. I don’t expect this to soften you toward her, but Merry was her father. She possesses noble blood and will execute the duties of countess—and duchess when the time comes—with poise and grace.” He leaned forward slightly, forcing the duke to tip his head back. “You will leave her alone, and that is the end of it.”