Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (2 page)

I showed up today with flowers and an invitation to dinner. I was rendered speechless, a moment ago, when I was turned down with a bright smile and a polite “No, thank you.”

It is taking me a lot of effort not to let my jaw hang open in surprise. It seems my little spitfire is misunderstanding what is happening right now. I decide to try a physical explanation before a verbal one. Taking her hand, I tug her into my arms and crash my mouth down onto hers. She freezes, taken by surprise, and a little gasp gives me the opening I need. My tongue sweeps inside, and I angle my head to deepen the kiss. After a moment, she melts into the kiss and begins to respond, albeit hesitantly. A shot of even stronger arousal sparks inside me when it becomes obvious how innocent she is. It makes me want to beat my chest and yell like a caveman at the thought of being the one to teach her about pleasure.

Before I lose my control, I lift my head, smirking when I see the dazed expression on her face, and the blatant arousal in her eyes. There aren’t any signs that she isn’t attracted to me or doesn’t feel the pull between us. If there were, I
might
have walked away. But, it clearly isn’t the case, and I’m determined to get Pippa to admit to it, eventually. Sooner, rather than later.

I keep ahold of her hand and lead her over to the couch where I sit close beside her. “Pippa, let me be clear. You are mine. You have been since the moment you knocked me on my ass.” I see the barest hint of a smile, despite her attempts to remain aloof.

“We’ve never even been on a date, Oliver. How could I possibly be yours?” she asks tartly. She scoots away, so I follow, staying in her space. Her cheeks turn bright with a pink blush, and she squirms uncomfortably. I know she is affected by me, but her glower is cluing me in that some of the color is from anger. She is sexy as hell and yet somehow manages to also be adorable. I mentally shake my head at myself. In a matter of twenty-four hours, I’ve apparently turned into a pussy.

“You simply are, baby.” I shrug, moving on since it isn’t up for discussion. “You can’t deny our chemistry, Pippa. You’re going to be my wife and then I’m going to fuck my kid into you the minute we say I do.”

Her eyes widen at my blunt words and I kiss her before she can respond. “Then, we get our happily ever after,” I whisper against her velvet-soft lips.

She pulls back and the scowl is still on her face, making me sigh. “I have no intention of becoming shackled to another person,” she says with irritation. “Let alone ending up a cliché. I can’t even cook, so the idea of me being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen is utterly ridiculous. Why don’t you pursue someone who will fall to her knees and beg for what you’re offering?”

I grin. “Baby, have no doubt. You’ll be on your knees, begging for what I’ve got. It’s only a matter of time.”

The old ball and chain

I
fight the need to squirm at Oliver’s statement. Maybe he isn’t as stuffy as I first thought. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him sweep me off my feet with this tall, dark, and sexy thing he has going on. His wavy black hair and ocean-blue eyes have no effect on me. I don’t want to know what it would be like to have his muscular body wrapped around me, and I’ve already forgotten the feel of those full lips kissing mine. I certainly didn’t fall for him the moment I met him. I mentally sigh; I don’t believe me, either.

I’ve been fighting off admirers, or if you want to go the old-fashioned way—suitors—since I turned eighteen. It’s somewhat a source of amusement when they approach my father for my “hand in marriage” and he tells them to ask me. Then, I choose the colorful way in which to turn each one down. I can be quite creative, so it’s always entertaining. For me. I’ve had an ace in my pocket, though, and it looks like now is the time to play it.

“I can’t marry you, Oliver.” I tug at my hand, trying to get him to let go, but his grip tightens and a low sound rumbles in his chest. Did he just growl at me? Why the hell do I find that so damn sexy?
Focus, Pippa!
“I need to get something from the desk and seeing as my hand is attached to my arm . . . do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You’re gorgeous when you get feisty,” he says with a grin and my insides melt. Irritated at my reaction, I pull hard and manage to get free, though I suspect it’s only because he allowed it. I hurry to the little writing desk across the room and snatch a piece of paper from the top drawer. I return to my seat, leaving a cushion of space between us and shove the paper into his hands as he starts to crowd me again. He stops moving and looks down at the document he’s holding. As he reads through it, his expression darkens bit by bit, and I get a little more nervous each time. Finally, his head lifts and his blue eyes are filled with fire, burning a hole through me.

“This can’t possibly be valid. This law has to have been abolished; it’s absolutely archaic.”

I shake my head. “Nope. So you see, I have no choice but to turn you down,” I say with insincere sorrow. Mostly. “None of the king’s daughters can marry until their older sisters are married.”

The incredulity on his face is almost comical until a calculating gleam enters his eyes, making me nervous. The paper crumples in his fist as he stands. “All right, Pippa. Have it your way.” He spins and stalks purposefully towards the door, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. I got what I wanted, so why am I not elated? At the door, he stops and turns back. “Is engaged acceptable?”

I shrug, holding in a laugh, realizing I was wrong. Apparently, my challenge has been accepted. “I suppose. It doesn’t really matter, Oliver. By the time all of my sisters are engaged or married, you’ll have moved on.”

He narrows his eyes and his gaze bores into me once again. “I want your agreement right now,” he demands. “When all of your sisters are married or engaged, you’ll marry me. Willingly. Without argument.”

I contemplate his likelihood for success and decide it’s a safe promise to make. He’ll be old and grey before all of my sisters are married. Especially Willow, who is the oldest. She is a chemist and spends all of her time in the lab. She’s beautiful but doesn’t care about her appearance, living in jeans, old T-shirts, and a white lab coat. I doubt anyone could open her eyes and make her take a look at the men who drool over her.

“Okay.”

He smirks. “I’m going to have you, Pippa. One way or another. But, we’ll play it your way for now. Just know, the reason I’m so successful is because when I want something, I go after it aggressively, and I always get it.” He winks at me (stupid butterflies) and leaves. I’m left contemplating whether or not I want him to win.

Its name is Wilhelm.

“S
imon!” I bellow as I shove away from my desk. It’s been three days since Pippa laid down the gauntlet and I’m getting ready to say fuck it, and kidnap her sexy, little ass. I approached her father first, asking him to get rid of the stupid law. He roared with laughter and puffed up with pride at his daughter’s resourcefulness and imagination. I scowled, and it only made him laugh even harder.

“You’re going to have to beat her at her own game, Oliver. I’m too entertained to step in.” His expression sobered slightly, enough to let me know his next words were not to be taken lightly. “Or perhaps, I want to see if you are worthy of my baby girl.”

My assistant, Simon, comes running into the room looking harried and a little pissed off. I’ve kept him busy the last few days trying to find me a solution to this absurd situation. We couldn’t find any legislation that would negate the law. None of her sisters appeared to be in a relationship, much less engaged, and Pippa was staunchly refusing to give in. I’d think her stubbornness was adorable if it weren’t directed at me.

Tugging on my hair, I glared at the younger man, but the action was a waste as he glared right back. “Stop yelling like a fucking lunatic, Oliver. Your staff is starting to think you’ve lost your damn mind. Abbi has called in sick five times in the last two weeks.” Abbi is my secretary, and one of Pippa’s sisters, so it’s probably not a good idea for me to freak her out. “Then again,” he continues with an irritated glance back at my door, “even when she’s here, she’s exhausted and sluggish.”

I feel a little guilty because I hadn’t noticed this about Abbi. Maybe I have lost my mind; I’m not usually so callus. I feel like every moment without Pippa is a moment wasted, and if I don’t get my ring on her finger and her body beneath mine soon, I’ll lose my last thread of sanity. I’ll break every law in this country, and every other, to make her mine.

Perhaps it would be best to deal with this somewhere else. “Let’s discuss this away from the office,” I mutter, donning my suit jacket and heading for the door. My office building happens to be a three-minute drive from the house I’d bought after meeting Pippa.
House
might be a stretch; it’s more like a small castle, but the minute I saw it, I knew it belonged to Pippa. Her reaction the first time I took her there had only confirmed my instincts, and I’d enjoyed watching her explore, delighted at all the little things she discovered.

I hop in my car and start it while Simon gets into the passenger seat, then make the short drive to my home. Leading him inside and to my office, I hang up my coat and drop some files I’d brought onto my desk. I walk around it, and raise an eyebrow at Simon. “Have you found anything?” I growl, earning me another glare.

“No one wants you to get Philippa St. Claire more than I do, Oliver. Maybe then you’ll work off your frustrations in other ways, rather than terrify your staff.” I’m sure I’ll feel bad about this after my sanity returns. But, at the moment, I’m not in the frame of mind to care.

“Short of casting a love spell on her sisters, I’m out of ideas,” I grumble as I drop down into my chair, shuffling the papers around on the desktop mindlessly. Simon is oddly silent, and after a minute, I look up curiously. He’s studying me, a thoughtful, albeit wary, look on his face, his fingers pinching and twisting his lips. I raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a hidden love potion lying around, Simon?” I drawl sarcastically.

He stops abusing his lips and presses them into a thin line, shaking his head. “Not exactly.”