Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Notorious in the West\Yield to the Highlander\Return of the Viking Warrior (19 page)

“I'll close the window.” Heedless of his damp dressing gown—attire that left very little to the imagination, given its free-fitting design—Griffin strode to the window. With a single strong shove, he closed the sash. He brushed his hands together. He eyed the cozy pitched underside of the eaves with an inexplicable sense of accomplishment, then nodded at the door. He must have closed it to trap the bat. A moment ago, that had been a fine idea.
Now...

“There,” he announced. “All better.”

He did not quite meet her eyes, however, and Olivia thought she knew why. He was just too kind to object to being soaked.

“It's
not
all better!” Grabbing a towel, she rushed to Griffin's new position. She ignored the dappled water spots on the floorboards and rug—signs of her skirmish, along with the fallen book near her toes—then stopped in front of Griffin. “I truly am sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get carried away.”

“I never get carried away.” He seemed oddly proud of that. “You can count on me, Olivia,
not
to get carried away.”

She felt dubious about that claim. Also, confused. Of all the qualities she prized in Griffin, levelheadedness was not among them. She indicated her towel. “Just let me dry you off.”

Vigorously, Olivia pushed the towel at his chest.

Trying to dry him, she discovered quickly, felt like dabbing a mountainside with a handkerchief. Beneath her towel, Griffin's chest felt firm and unexpectedly...
interesting.

That probably meant that she should do a more diligent job of drying him, Olivia reasoned. After all, she owed him that much. She couldn't very well invade Griffin's suite, steal his broom—even though it was the hotel's property, left behind during one of her cleaning excursions—and then simply skedaddle when the going got rough and the gentleman got waterlogged.

Not that Griffin appeared particularly gentlemanly. Not at the moment. With his unbound hair, big bare feet and informal attire, he seemed... Well,
available
to her, was what most came to mind when Olivia looked at him. She'd never been in such intimate circumstances with him before. As she went on dabbing him earnestly with the towel, she learned, too late, that this situation piqued her natural sense of curiosity.

In fact, it dangerously inflamed her natural sense of curiosity.

Olivia was dying to know more about Griffin. Suddenly, she wanted to rub him down all over. She wanted to feel his muscles bunching beneath her seeking hands, wanted to hear him whisper her name in the wonderfully husky way he had, wanted to explore all the stimulatingly masculine contours that lay beneath his dressing gown. As bedtime attire went, his citified version was practically indecent. It was maybe even—possibly—defective.

Even now, Olivia observed, Griffin's fancy dressing gown shifted back and forth with her vigorous attempts to dry him off. Unlike a normal men's cotton nightshirt, it couldn't even keep him decently covered. A flash of hair-sprinkled chest was revealed here. A glimmer of muscular torso was revealed there. A wedge of naked shoulder, a glimpse of bare, sinewy upper arm...

Belatedly, the full reality of her situation occurred to her. Save for his underdrawers, of course—which shocked her in themselves—Griffin was entirely
naked
under his dressing gown!

And
she
was practically undressing him with her towel.

Startled, Olivia leaped back a pace. Granted, she wasn't employing her bare hands alone for the scandalous job she'd undertaken. She
was
using a towel. It formed a partial modesty barrier between them. But that didn't change the facts. She, Olivia Mouton, had a man in her rooms...and she wanted him there.

Given the way Griffin had been obediently standing there, allowing her to verifiably manhandle him, he wanted to be there.

As she looked up at him, he swallowed hard. “I should go.”

“Don't go!” Olivia dabbed his head. “You're still wet.”

Her industriousness didn't impress him as much as she'd have liked. It didn't work to the degree that he allowed her to continue drying him. Instead, Griffin stopped her towel-holding hand. “Your bat's defeated,” he said. “Your window's closed.”

“So is my door,” she pointed out. “No one will know if you stay awhile.” Hastily, she added, “It's only sociable. After all, we've been alone together many times before. I feel so comfortable with you, Griffin,” Olivia urged. “I trust you.”

He seemed simultaneously pleased and pained by her admission. Why that should be, Olivia didn't know.

All she knew was that she couldn't help wondering exactly what Griffin looked like under his dressing gown and underdrawers. The glimpses she'd had only served to fire up her imagination. Was his whole chest sprinkled with fine dark hair, like the triangular bit revealed by his dressing gown? Were his legs as muscular as his forearms? Would his belly feel as firm to touch as his chest did? How tightly had he tied the sash of his dressing gown? Would it come loose with a gentle tug, or would more force be required? Exactly how much gusseting was necessary in his underdrawers...and why? Full of those questions and countless more, Olivia gazed inquisitively at him.

Griffin saw her looking...and groaned aloud.

“When you look at me that way, I can't think straight.”

“I'll do the thinking for both of us.” She took the towel from him and tossed it down with a definitive motion. “Stay. Please. Everyone knows I've been to your suite. They know we've been alone together already! This time should be no different.”

It
felt
different, though. It felt...vaguely tingly and warm.

Griffin shook his head. “Everyone in the hotel has been looking the other way because they want you to save their jobs. They want you to return The Lorndorff to the way it used to be.”

Instead of allowing it to be turned into my private residence,
Olivia imagined him adding,
the way Palmer Grant must have revealed it might be.
She was surprised to hear Griffin mention her attempts to have the hotel reverted to her family's control—to ensure her friends kept their jobs. But she wasn't the least bit interested in discussing those topics tonight.

She lowered her gaze to his chest. “I missed a spot.”

Another groan. “You're going to have your way, aren't you?”

“Why should tonight be any different from usual?”

“It shouldn't.” Squaring his shoulders, Griffin gave her a determined smile. “You're right. This is only sociable.”

“See?” Olivia felt satisfied to have convinced him.

“Only...” His rumbling tone drew her attention. So did the way Griffin's gaze dipped to her collarbone. “You're wet, too.”

Carefully, he lowered his finger to a water spot on her silk wrap. He stroked it, as though trying to make it vanish.

Instead, at his touch, that tiny spot seemed to penetrate her skin even further. Heat flared where his finger touched, then spread in a widening circle. Olivia thought she might swoon with excitement—or at least fall into his arms to be held by him. Perhaps inviting Griffin into her rooms hadn't been wise....

“You were impressive today, Olivia.” His dark gaze lifted to meet hers. “I've never known anyone as special as you.”

At that, her heart turned over. Impulsively, Olivia grabbed Griffin's hand. She clasped it in both of hers, cradling it to her chest. “I care for you
so
much, Griffin. I can hardly say—”

“Words fail me, too.” His gaze dropped to their joined hands. Something wicked and intent flared in his expression. “You feel
so...
” Another helpless groan escaped him. Visibly tongue-tied, Griffin used his free hand to pull her nearer. “All I can do is show you.” He shook his head. “I'm no poet,” he confessed. “But I've never felt like this before.”

“Never?” She could scarcely breathe. Her heart pounded.

Silently, Griffin shook his head. The lamplight danced across his masculine features, making them look shadowy and notoriously rugged...but no less appealing to her, all the same. Olivia loved looking at him. She loved looking at him because she loved
him.
Soon, she'd have to tell him so. But first...

“I haven't, either,” she admitted. She tipped up her face and found herself almost nose to nose with Griffin. They inhaled the same air, shared the same space...even their heartbeats felt united. Olivia fancied they were meant for this, together. “I've been proposed to,” she said, “but I've never felt this way. Not for anyone.” Daringly, she released his hand. She stroked his face, loving the newly smooth feel of his jaw. “You shaved!”

As romantic announcements went, hers was decidedly lacking.

But Griffin only offered her a winningly roguish smile.

“I imagined I might kiss you good-night. I wanted to be ready.” His smile broadened. “I probably shouldn't admit it, but I do that every night. I think of you, and I think of how rough my beard is, and I prepare for something that can't ever be.”

She'd thought she was the only one who imagined the two of them together—the only one who wanted a future. A family. A life to share and adventures to have and kisses for days and days.

On the verge of confessing as much, Olivia hesitated. She didn't want to reveal too much. What if Griffin really didn't want to marry her? What if he
had
found her lacking?

But then she realized...Griffin had seen all of her. The nice and the irksome and the baseball-playing included. Contrary to her fears, Griffin believed she was
more
than Miss Milky White.

When she was in his arms, Olivia believed that, too.

“A beauty like you should have more than a beast like me,” Griffin told her, gazing into her eyes now. “But if you'll have me, Olivia, I promise to try to protect you. I promise—”

Olivia lunged upward. She cut him off with a kiss.

“I promise to give you all the love you've never had,” she vowed fervently. “I promise to give you...
everything.
”

With unfathomable emotion, Griffin gazed at her. He swallowed, tried to speak and failed. He squeezed her close, then exhaled a shuddering breath. “You're priceless, Olivia.”

“You're
mine,
” she replied, knowing exactly how battered and bruised he'd been...how unfairly treated and cruelly ignored. She knew she could change that. She
wanted
to change that. For him. For her. “I swear, Griffin. I can make up for it all—”

This time, he stopped her with a kiss.

“I keep telling you.” His smile flashed, brief and brilliant. “You don't have to do anything except be you.”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, brought their bathwater-dappled bodies together and gave her everything that was in his heart to give. What Griffin had to give, Olivia learned as he kissed her then, was considerable. It was love. It was him.

Surrendering to both of those immutable forces at last, Olivia leaned into Griffin's arms. She wrapped him in her embrace, then kissed him back. This was real. It was right.

For tonight, at least, it was everything she needed.

If tomorrow, everything changed...

On the cusp of going further with that thought, Olivia looked at Griffin's face. She saw the telltale signs of intense focus in his expression, knew he was doing his best to savor their time together, and decided right then to do the same herself.

Fearlessly, she touched the lapels of his dressing gown. Lovingly, she studied his expression. Impishly, she asked...

“Would you mind very much taking this off? Soon?” Her breath caught and held at her own audacity. But Olivia had never been a woman for half measures. So she provided an incentive. “You know...for the sake of satisfying my scientific curiosity?”

Chapter Seventeen

I
f Olivia had been any other woman, Griffin knew, he might have been able to stick to his vow to behave with honor and goodness. He might have been able to view her luscious body—clad only in a virginal white chemise and a satiny wrap—and retain some integrity. He might have been able to feel her hands eagerly probing his chest—all but undressing him with her towel and her eyes—and selflessly left her feminine, welcoming rooms behind. He might have been able to bridle the beast inside him long enough to be the man that Olivia seemed to believe he was.

Instead, it was
Olivia
who appeared before him in nightclothes that revealed her delectable shape and soft, lovely skin. It was
Olivia
who touched him with verve and enthusiasm and seductive naïveté. It was
Olivia
who begged him to stay, who told him she trusted him, who very nearly told him she loved him, with her heart in her eyes and his hand clasped in hers.

I promise to give you all the love you've never had,
she'd told him breathlessly.
I promise to give you...everything.

Until that moment, Griffin hadn't known how much he'd needed love to feel completed. Or how much he'd believed success would bring him that love...and then, when his proposal to Mary had been rejected, how devastated he'd been that it hadn't.

But tonight, with Olivia, everything had changed.

Tonight, with Olivia, Griffin felt the stirrings of a real new beginning for him—a beginning that could lead to the life and love he had always wanted...and had always been denied.

Olivia didn't deny him. Instead, she savored him. She looked at him as though she could never get enough of his eyes, his hair and even his oversize body. Griffin couldn't help preening beneath her gaze. He'd waited a lifetime to be desired. Now, faced with true desire in Olivia's eyes, he could no more resist her than he could sprout wings and fly back to Boston.

Especially not after Olivia eyed him so pertly, grasped his dressing gown's lapels and delivered her coup de grâce.

Would you mind very much taking this off? Soon?

You know...for the sake of satisfying my scientific curiosity?

At that, Griffin looked into her beloved face and could only think of one suitable response. “One of these days, your ‘scientific curiosity' is going to be the end of me.”

“But not today,” she said smartly. “Not tonight.”

“Not tonight. Not with you.” Gratefully, Griffin cupped her chin in his hand. Lightly, he tilted her face to his. “Not when I feel that without you, I would stop existing altogether.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, and—like every other time he'd kissed Olivia—doing so was a revelation to him. Holding her was like capturing sweetness; pressing his lips to hers was like tasting its pleasure without any of its sinfulness. With Olivia, a kiss felt pure. It felt like saying, without clumsy words and insufficient gestures, that he loved her, needed her...wanted her.

Greedily, Griffin buried his other hand in her upswept hair, all the better to bring her closer, then kissed her more deeply. Now that he'd begun, it was as though he'd waited a lifetime to kiss Olivia this way. He couldn't get enough of her soft lips, her helpless little moans, her freehearted way of kissing him right back, with needfulness and innocent joy. Their mouths met again, more urgently this time, and Griffin felt his self-control plunge even further. He needed to stop. He couldn't stop. Not if it meant not touching Olivia, not feeling her warm, lithe body in his arms, not knowing that it was him she crowded closer to, abandoning his lapels to throw her arms around him instead, nearly stepping on his toes to bring herself nearer.

Quickly—
very
quickly—Griffin lost all memory of his plans to be good. He felt Olivia's modest round bosoms press against his chest and couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been feeling her against him that way. He dropped his hand from her chin to her waist and hauled her still closer and felt a surge of possessive caring that nearly knocked him to his knees.

He needed Olivia. He needed to be with her. He needed to see her, to touch her, to hear her murmur his name.

He needed to pleasure her. The imperative to do so made Griffin lose awareness of everything except her and him and the feel of their bodies sliding together as their next kiss went on and on. He forgot the pink and lace-filled surroundings of her rooms. Everything blurred as he drank in Olivia's breathy cries, as he swept his tongue against hers, as he lowered his hand to her derriere and squeezed, delighting in the womanly curves he found there. All he wanted was Olivia. All he needed was to give himself to her—to take everything she'd offered and more.

I promise to give you...everything,
Olivia had sworn.

In the long, passionate moments that followed her declaration, Griffin took what she'd given him, with his hands and his heart and his body. He kissed her until they both gasped. He stroked her until her wrapped robe was as askew as his dressing gown was, revealing the creamy white slope of her shoulder, the ribbons that fastened her chemise...the pink jut of her nipples, just barely visible through her chaste garment.

Inflamed by the sight of her, Griffin touched Olivia there, too. He cradled her breasts in his palms, buried his face in her rose-scented hair and lost himself in the incredible feelings racing through him. He'd never met a woman who was more responsive than Olivia. He'd never thought he'd find anyone who made him feel more welcome or wanted. But somehow, Olivia did.

As he caressed her, she sighed—and pushed herself urgently, wantonly into his hands. As he kissed her, she moaned—and kissed him back with a fervor to match his own, burying her fingers in his hair and holding his head to hers. As he pulled her into his embrace, she smiled with wicked, weak-kneed delight—and called his name in an impossibly intimate tone, urging him onward in a way that let him know he wasn't alone.

He wanted her. Olivia wanted him.

Together, they were...perfect. Soon, they'd be one.

Tenderly, Griffin lifted Olivia in his arms. A few long strides brought them both to her bed, with its snowy coverlet and lace-trimmed pillows. A single gesture of surrender brought them both down on its fluffy mattress. Lowering Olivia first, Griffin followed her with his knee between her spread thighs and his inadequate clothes all but falling off him, gazing at her in wonder and gladness. He braced himself on his arm, then smiled.

“You're so beautiful.” He stroked her tumbledown hair away from her face. Then, reverently, he drew his knuckle along her cheek, loving her softness. “So beautiful, and so much more than beautiful.” He kissed her, knowing it was true. “If I never see another sunrise, I'll be happy having seen you in all your beauty tonight. I won't ever need anything more than this.”

Shyly, Olivia smiled, too. “And you.” Her eager gaze roved over his disheveled dressing gown, then dipped to the glimpse of his bare abdomen revealed above his underdrawers. She seemed to heartily approve. “You're so big and strong. So handsome.”

She could say that because his flaws weren't evident so far down his body, Griffin knew. She could say that because his nose was practically miles away from his midsection, his drawers and his—apparently fascinating, if Olivia's attention were any indication—drawstring closure to those underdrawers. “I'm not handsome,” he objected. “Anything else. Big, yes. Strong—”

“Yes. You are.” Suddenly serious, Olivia grasped his face. “I see
all
of you, Griffin,” she promised. “And I love it.”

I love you,
he imagined her saying, but he just couldn't bear it. Not then. Not when so many new feelings already roiled inside him. Instead, Griffin closed his eyes. He focused on the remarkable feeling of their bodies pressed so tightly together, then returned his attention to Olivia's face, flushed and sweet in the soft glow of the lamplight. Gently, he kissed her.

“Are you sure of this?” If he didn't ask now, he would surely lack the wits to do so later. “Of us, being together?”

“Am I sure?” Olivia gave a jubilant laugh. “I'm all but debauched already!” she teased. “If you don't finish the job now, I'll be deeply disappointed.” With a mischievous grin, she kissed him. Then, bravely, she flung her arms to the sides, beside the piles of pillows that cradled her head. “I'm ready, Griffin,” she told him. “If you want to undress me, you may.”

Galvanized by her words, humbled by her trust in him, Griffin could only stare at her. He swallowed hard. Here was a woman who cared for him, who thought him handsome, who had the audacity to tease him and dare him into loving her. If ever Providence had thought to toss a perfect mate into his path, Olivia was that woman. She was kind and brave. She was...

...lifting one of her hands, languidly tracing a path down the almost unwrapped lapels of his dressing gown, biting her lip as she tentatively touched that garment's knotted sash...

“Or should I go first,” she asked, “and undress you?”

With a groan, Griffin shook his head. “There'll be time for that later,” he assured her, trying
not
to think of the new and indecorously snug fit of his long underdrawers. Instead, he thought of the barrier presented to him by Olivia's wrap...and all the ways he could defeat it. Beneath her wrap, he knew, Olivia waited for him, more unguarded than she'd ever been, bare and feminine and full of secrets he longed to explore.

“First, I want to do this.” He kissed her again, losing himself in the heat and wetness of her mouth. “And this.” He lowered his lips to her neck, inhaling the rosy scent of her skin. “And
this.
” Through her clothes, he cupped her breasts again. He rubbed his thumbs slowly across her peaked nipples, heard her gasp in response and felt himself grow twice as hard. At this rate, his underdrawers' drawstring would prove insufficient to contain him, Griffin thought dizzily.

Then he quit thinking altogether...and just
felt.

He felt Olivia, squirming and breathless and moaning beneath him as he went on stroking her. He felt himself, mindlessly grinding against her, needing a sensual release that their half-tumbled-off clothes still prevented. He felt both of them together, kissing and touching and wanting, sharing in a swift, heedless discovery that felt all the more precious for its intensity. Their coming together was...
unstoppable
now.

With Olivia, Griffin learned he could not always exercise patience. Or good judgment. Or even, sometimes, all the gentleness he wanted. His passion made him rough; his love for her made him try desperately to slow down. But it was no use.

He kissed her and needed more. He touched her and took more. He heard Olivia moan and couldn't help smiling with savage pride.
He
made Olivia feel wonderful, Griffin knew...and before this night was through, he knew he would make both of them feel that way. For tonight, at least, The Lorndorff was heaven on earth, and its attic rooms were where paradise could be found.

Wanting beyond everything to share that with Olivia, Griffin opened her wrapped robe. Kissing her, he slid its silky panels down her arms. Soon that garment was cast aside, but his tutelage of Olivia wasn't finished. Tenderly, Griffin lifted her arms. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Hold me. Here. Like this.”

He helped her wrap her arms around his middle, but Olivia needed no further encouragement. Eagerly, she held him close. She pressed a heartfelt kiss of her own to his neck.

“You feel...mmm...so good!” she cried. “I'm sorry if I'm holding you too tightly,” she whispered, “only I'm not sure—”

“Not too tightly.
Never
too tightly.”
Never let go.

Unable to say as much, Griffin kissed Olivia instead. He kissed her and caressed her and felt her hands roving all over his still clothed back, and her enthusiasm—her
desire—
only urged him on. Groaning with enjoyment, Griffin took advantage of Olivia's new state of near undress by filling his hands with her chemise's hem. Mad with need, he lifted the fabric higher. Its lace-trimmed ruffles edged up past her knee, past her thigh...

Only another few tugs separated him from undressing her, but Griffin abandoned his quest there. The temptation to touch all the bare skin he'd revealed was too great to resist. Full of passion and affection and devotion, he swept his hand down Olivia's shin, up the curve of her calf, and then higher still.

Feeling her quake beneath him, he stroked her knee, knowing he should calm her...knowing they should take things much more slowly. But that seemed as impossible for Olivia as it was for him. To his shock, Griffin felt her mimicking his earlier movements. Her fingers tugged at his dressing gown's sash. Making an adorably determined face, she undid that problematic knot. She wrenched the panels apart. She took her time looking at his naked chest, his tensed midsection, his underdrawers...

Then she smiled. Moments later, his dressing gown struck the floor beside her bed in a bundled up, triumphant heap.

“Now we can
really
be close,” Olivia breathed, and Griffin had the sense, looking into her eyes, that she loved that idea.

He did, too. Lowering himself atop her, careful not to crush her with his weight, Griffin kissed her. He
loved
that Olivia was forward with him. He loved that she wasn't afraid to show herself or to see him, that both of them were vulnerable and needful and full of inhibitions that fell away at the flicker of the lamplight. Looking at Olivia, beautiful and giving against the pillows and disarrayed coverlet, Griffin had to have her. He had to love her, to kiss her...to deftly unfasten the ribbons at her chemise and pluck away the laces, one by one, until the gap he'd created let him pull down that diaphanous cotton to reveal first one perfect breast, then the next.