A Countess by Chance (5 page)

Y
ou couldn’t possibly mean here, now.” Though the thought of it, mere feet away from where the party raged, made her blood heat.

“Yes, here and now. I find I am compelled to claim what’s mine.” He leaned in close again, his hand splayed on her waist possessively. “I don’t like seeing you with Wood,” he whispered harshly in her ear. “It drives me mad with jealousy.”

“Does it?” By God, the room was alarmingly hot, the air thick in her lungs. “In that case, I shall endeavor to engage him in conversation more often.”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that rumbled through her every limb, right down to her toes. “What makes you think I will allow that?”

She pursed her lips. “And what of Miss Wood? How will she perceive your protective feelings for me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t give a damn what Miss Wood thinks.”

“Don’t you?”

They looked very handsome together, far too handsome for Olivia’s liking. Not to mention Miss Wood’s wealth and education—the woman spoke five languages, played every sonnet in existence, and beyond that, her loveliness exceeded even the most attractive of women. She was a paragon of beauty and accomplishment.

Worse, she was the ideal match for him—an alliance that would benefit them both. What he gained in wealth, she would gain in title and status. It really was a perfectly designed alliance—a thought that made Olivia quite nauseous.

“We aren’t here to discuss Miss Wood.”

The heat of his body surrounded her, made her feel oddly at ease, despite the awkward situation. Alone, in the library with a man she’d once loved. She paused. Perhaps this was her only opportunity to grasp the one thing she’d always wanted—
Adam
. She’d had to give him up for duty and family; now there was opportunity to snatch a little bit of happiness for herself.

Licking her lips, she let her gaze flutter up to meet his. His eyes were a deep, chocolate brown, dark and fathomless. She wanted him; she’d wanted him from the moment they’d met three years ago, at James and Margaret’s wedding. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t known she existed then…but she’d seen him, and knew, in that instant, she wanted him.

Now was her chance.

With a deep, strengthening breath, she smoothed her hands up his chest and gripped his lapels. Before he could utter a word, she tugged him forward into a long, dizzying kiss. He was delicious, more delicious than she remembered from just a few short hours ago. She could devour him for days—their tongues twining, his moans rumbling through her soul.

As the kiss depended and intensified, passion and something deeper ignited within her. Whatever it was, she didn’t dare examine it. Pushing the emotion aside, she pulled greedily at his coat, stripping it off him as he fumbled with the laces at her back. Frenzied, she pulled at his waistcoat, then shirt, until his entire top half was completely, gloriously bared to her.

Sweet heaven.

He was
magnificent
.

In all their encounters, he’d always been clothed, his raw, masculine frame hidden by miles of fabric. Now here he was, every ripple and sinew exposed, and she could only stare in wide-eyed astonishment. Ropes of muscle lined his stomach, tightening with every heavy breath; his pale skin, almost translucent, gave him the look of marble come to life.

An Adonis, more like.

Her gown was only half undone, her hair tumbling out of its pins. She shoved him into a blue and white upholstered chair. He fell into it willingly—she would never have gotten him to budge otherwise—his smile languid, predatory.

She followed him down, the hem of her dress hiking up as she spread her thighs to straddle him. His big hand slid up her thigh, then cupped her bottom, pulling her more snugly against him. She moaned. His hard length pressed against her, causing little tingles to trickle down her spine. She wanted him now, like nothing she’d ever wanted in her life.

Dipping her head, she kissed him, biting the curve of his bottom lip, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Heavens, he was scrumptious. Gripping her backside, his fingertips bit into her skin painfully, exquisitely. She shifted slightly and he hissed.

Nothing had ever felt so glorious, and he was hers. Finally, they would be together.

Olivia’s sweet thighs were spread over him, her hot core grinding against his swollen cock through the fabric of his breeches.
Christ
, he wanted her,
needed
her in a way he didn’t dare examine.

“Do you want more?” He raked his nails across her arse, leaving his mark on her lily-white skin. She hissed with pleasure. “I need to hear you say it, Olivia.”

She licked her lips, debating whether or not to concede, no doubt. Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

He smiled. “You must say
please
.”

More silence. It rankled her pride to plead, he knew. He didn’t care. He wanted her trust, her obedience, everything she had to give. He’d take no less.

Defiance flickered in her eyes, her lips pressed together. Her thighs were spread open, straddling him, and he delved a finger into her hot center, swirling and pinching, teasing her sensitive flesh until she could take no more.

“Please,” she said, gripping his shoulders, her pretty little arse lifting off his lap. “
Please,
Adam.”

It wasn’t exactly begging, but it was as much as his honor would require.

Reaching up, he tugged at her low neckline, freeing both of her breasts to his hungry gaze. The soft, round globes were perfection, her nipples ripe and beaded. He flicked his tongue over one, then drew it into his mouth, sucking hard. With a little gasp of surprise, she rocked her hips forward, then back, practically fucking him through his breeches.

Christ.
He wasn’t going to last long.

Gripping her arse with both hands, he slowed her tempo, devouring one breast then the other. He wanted every damn inch of her branded with his scent, his mark. He’d waited too long for this. God knew she deserved far better, but he didn’t care. He wanted her now, and would face the facts of it later.

Lifting her with one hand, he unbuttoned his falls with the other and pushed into her with one powerful thrust—past her maidenhead, to the sweet heat beyond. He swallowed her gasp with a kiss as he thrust into her again, his fingertips biting into her flesh as he took her fast and hard. She was so tight, so damn tight, and he didn’t know how long he could hold on. Her fresh, flowery scent surrounded him, pulled him under, into another world. There was nothing but them, this moment, their bodies joined.

She was his. Completely, irrevocably
his
.

Breaking the kiss, she flung her head back, her breasts bouncing as he drove into her powerfully. Her channel gripped him like a fist.

Release crashed over him like a torrent, drowning him in her sweet, heavenly heat. With one final, violent thrust, he poured himself into her.

When at last they came back down to earth, her head dropped onto his shoulder, her breathing shallow, erratic.
Christ
, he’d never felt so satisfied in his life. What was it about this woman that captivated him so completely?

Contentment settled over him, and for the first time in two years, he allowed himself to imagine Olivia by his side, heavy with his child. Happy.

The doorknob rattled.

He froze, listening. High-pitched voices filtered through the white, gilded doors. Olivia gasped, gazing down at him with wide eyes. “Adam.”

She scrambled off his lap, righting her bodice, smoothing her skirts back into place. He stood and snatched up his clothes, dressing quickly, not bothering with his cravat. There wasn’t any way he’d get it sorted in time. Bunching it in his hand, his eyes darted around the room, searching for escape. The prospects were dismal at best. There were two options: the doors, which posed an obvious problem, or the windows, which loomed several feet off the ground.

Good God.

He glanced back at Olivia, who was pinning her hair back up into a semblance of order—and just like that, she was the prim, proper lady Society expected. It heated his blood to think what he’d done to her just a few short minutes ago.

Time enough for that later.

Another voice joined the collection of others. It was James, no doubt, asking what the bloody hell was going on. The man hated being left out of anything. The confusion abated for a moment, and there was a distinct scrape of a key against the lock.

“The window,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened. “Are you mad?”

“Trust me.”

He lifted the latch, opened the window, and glanced down. Good God. They were several feet up—several long, alarming feet.

The doorknob jostled again.

Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she whispered, “Hurry.”

Before he could persuade himself to jump, Olivia shoved him—hard. In a blink, he was falling head first out the window, the ground rushing up quickly to greet him.

A
dam was still nursing a bruised shoulder the next evening when he picked up a cue and began placing balls on the billiard table. This room was a gentlemen’s haven, and it offered refuge, thank God. Breakfast had been nearly impossible to sit through, what with the constant chatter of the Duke of Somerset’s eminent arrival. Apparently, the duke rarely ventured into Society, and the house was abuzz with curiosity and speculation.

Meanwhile, Miss Wood had taken up the habit of following Adam’s every move, trailing behind him, offering assistance in the most obnoxious ways. Earlier, her interference during whist had nearly cost him the game.

The door opened slightly and Adam lowered his cue. The intruder was none other than Miss Wood herself. No surprise there. He bowed.

“Oh, my lord,” she said with false astonishment. “I didn’t realize you were in here. I was just looking for my brother.”

“Haven’t seen him.” Adam angled his cue to strike the ball. “You might try the library.”

Miss Wood slid deeper into the room, closing the door behind her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something of a particular nature,” she said, all sweetness and innocence, sidling up beside him. “I’ve been wondering if you could give me horse riding lessons.” She smiled, trailing a finger up his chest. “I understand you’re quite good at
instruction
.” The way she said the last left little doubt to what she referred—and it might be about riding, but it wasn’t about horses.

He plucked her hand off his chest and took a step back. “Indeed, you are mistaken, Miss Wood. I haven’t the patience for teaching.”

She laughed and took a step closer. “Isn’t that a pity? And you were so attentive to Miss Dewhurst the other afternoon, in the middle of that muddy field.”

“Spying, were you?” Adam said, fighting to remain calm.

“I’d hate to have to tell the others what I saw. And they’d believe me, of course. After what happened with that earl, her reputation is already ruined.”  

At that moment the doorknob turned, and Annabelle, ever the huntress, honed in on her prey. She curled her talons into his lapel and yanked him forward, forcing his lips to collide with hers. The door swung open, and as Adam tried to extract himself he heard a collection of gasps that foretold his downfall like a death knell. The conniving chit.

“Lord Huntington,” an angry voice said. “Unhand my sister.”

Oh, how easy Wood made that sound. But the wench had her grip on him and she continued to press against him, prolonging the painful encounter long enough to ensure everyone had filed into the room—the whole damned house, or so it seemed. Only then did she release him and he stumbled back, panting like a damned fool.

And when he turned to the crowd, he saw her. Olivia. Lips pressed together, cheeks flushed with anger. She turned abruptly and left the room, her pale pink skirts trailing behind her.

“Oh, my,” Annabelle gasped, holding her hand to her lips. Her performance didn’t fool him, but it didn’t matter, the damage was done. His fate was sealed.

The next morning, Olivia stood at her bedroom window, unable to sleep. The sun was low on the horizon, and a delicate mist covered the lush, green landscape. The night prior, Adam had tried to speak with her, first by sending her letters—
three
to be precise— which she hadn’t opened, then by sending a poor, frightened maid to fetch her. When that had failed, he’d come to her bedroom door himself, demanding entry.

She’d ignored him at every turn, and finally around three in the morning, he’d left with the threat that he’d be back—to break down the door, if need be.

Let him try. It would do him no good to gain entry, anyway. There was nothing he could say, no possible explanation that could untangle the twisted knot of her emotions. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him and Annabelle pressed together, their lips interlocked.

I wanted to hurt you.

His words came back to her, slamming home. Everything between her and Adam had been a ruse, a deliberate attempt to humiliate her. And she’d fallen for it. She’d wanted to believe he’d forgiven her so badly that she’d never considered the alternative—that he’d never see past his own resentment, never see her decision to cry off as anything but a betrayal.

He would marry Annabelle. The sooner she reconciled herself with that, the sooner she could rally and press on with her own life. Such as it was.

Although she did allow herself
one
indulgence. All night, she’d imagined the many different ways she could prevent the wedding from taking place. Set fire to the house (a tad too drastic), set a pack of wolves on the wedding party (not exactly feasible), or simply feign death, like Shakespeare’s Juliet (although that didn’t turn out well, did it?).

As she stood there pondering the possibility of kidnapping the bride, four cloaked figures emerged from the mist. They were walking briskly, headed in the direction of the meadow, as though they had no other purpose than to reach their destination.

What on earth were they up to? Curious, Olivia slipped on her wrapper and slippers and headed quietly out the door and down to the sweeping lawn toward the meadow.

The grass was damp and water soaked through her satin slippers, freezing her toes until they were numb. And the air was a bit more brisk than she’d anticipated. Hugging herself against the biting breeze, she followed the figures until they reached the edge of the clearing.

Olivia concealed herself behind a large bush and took stock of those present. James, Wood, his valet, and Adam all stood in a tight circle, examining something. Then Adam and James paired off, while Wood and his valet strode toward Olivia, stopping just feet away.

A duel.

The reality of it slammed into her, followed quickly by bewilderment. If Adam was dueling Wood, then that must mean he’d refused to marry Annabelle—but
why
?

Rustling came from a few bushes away, then a distinct “Ow!” as Annabelle emerged, limping, with a grimace on her pixie-like face. Her expression changed to one of surprise when she spotted Olivia.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia hissed. The gentlemen were speaking and she was angry she had to miss their conversation.

“What am
I
doing here?” she replied. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Get over here! They’ll see you!” Olivia darted forward and snatched Annabelle by the arm, dragging her deeper into the safety of the bushes. The men were too absorbed in their ritual to notice.

“Oh, God! What are they doing? This is
not
how things were meant to turn out,” Annabelle said nervously, peering through the foliage.

Olivia stared at Annabelle for a long moment, finally piecing together the truth. She’d planned this. Well, perhaps not the duel—she seemed just as surprised about that as Olivia was. But the kiss in the billiard room, several guests
just happening
upon them. It was all
too
convenient. Clearly Adam had refused to marry her, which would explain the pistols.

A tense shift in the air drew her attention to the men. Wood and Adam faced each other, each with one arm outstretched, pistols pointed at each other’s chests.

“Gentlemen,” James intoned, and Olivia’s heart stopped. “Shoot on the count of three. One, two…”

That was the point where all rational thought ceased. Olivia sprinted from the bushes—covering the short distance like a charging lioness—and tackled Wood, who was closest to her. Due to Wood’s sheer astonishment, she was able to knock him to the ground. And in her blind panic, she tried to wrest the pistol from his grasp. In the struggle, it went off, and Olivia only saw it vaguely, as through a veil of clouds.

The deafening bang reverberated through her entire body and Olivia watched, as if in slow motion, as Adam fell to the ground.

Good heavens, she’d shot him. She’d killed the man she loved.