Stephanie James (28 page)

She looked up suddenly, tears in her eyes and, with venom coating every syllable, she said, “I will not be your whore.”

He stumbled back from her then. “My God,” he whispered. “Is that what you think you shall be?”

“What else could I be?” she asked. “I am common.”

He moved close to her again, this time placing his hands on her arms gently. He lowered his head to meet her gaze. “Olivia,” he said without fluttering an eyelid. “I love you.”

More tears rushed to her eyes. She did her best to hold them back. “You can’t.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said. “I’ve tried to fight it. God knows I have, Olivia, especially in light of your horrible temper, but I could not stop myself. I love you.” He reached into his pocket. She looked down at his hand and saw an oval-cut sapphire wrapped in diamonds. “This is what I had to procure from my father. It was my grandmother’s. I want to give it to you, Olivia. I want to marry you.”

“What manner of wife would I be,” she asked, her tears spilling freely from her eyes now. “I do not belong in society.”

“Everyone here tonight seems to like you well enough.”

“And what about if I marry you?” she asked. “Would I not then be under constant scrutiny? Everything I do and say would be subject for review by the peers. I would embarrass you for certain.”

“Then embarrass me,” he said. “I do not care. Do you think I’ve not been embarrassed before in my life? Besides, our primary residence would be in Dorset.”

“It would?”

Philip laughed a bit. “Of course,” he said. “I moved to Tyndall Hall knowing full well it would be my primary residence. Olivia, the business I have with your father is what I do now. It is not just merely a hobby.”

Olivia’s heart sank. Her father. She had not thought of what her father would think of her marrying his business partner. “You may well lose his partnership if you marry me.”

“Olivia,” said Philip, pausing to brush a curl behind her ear. “I have already asked him for your hand.”

She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide with anxiety. “What did he say?”

“If he had denied me the privilege of asking you, Olivia,” he said, “then we would not be having this conversation.”

“What of your family?” she asked. “They could not possibly approve of you marrying someone of such low standing.”

“They have been trying to make a match out of us for some time now, Olivia.”

“What?”

Philip laughed. “Yes, I know. It all seems so obvious now, but they have been trying everything in their power to have us married by the end of winter. Why do you think you and your father were invited to London for Christmas? I daresay they have succeeded. And, by the way, your father informed me that your mother was the daughter of a marquess, which hardly makes you entirely common.”

Olivia looked down at her shoes. “Yes, she was,” she whispered.

Philip held up the ring. “Marry me. You’ve run out of excuses not to.”

“What if I do not love you?” she asked.

Philip lowered the ring. “Don’t you?”

Olivia bit her lower lip. Of course she did, but she could not tell him. Not while this moment seemed so much like a dream. How could she own up to her feelings? Would society really accept her as his wife? She had spent the last few days convincing herself that she was not good enough for Lord Philip, and now he wanted to marry her. Could it really work? Could it really be so easy? She was afraid to find out. She loved him too much to bear the pain of having to lose him if all this turned out to be a horrible idea.

“Do you love me, Olivia?”

She lowered her gaze to the ground again, still refusing to say anything. He kissed her then — took her in his arms, lifted her face with a gentle hand, and kissed her with the same passion that had always fueled his attraction to her. His hands moved down from her shoulders to her breasts. He squeezed them before moving his hands down farther to her waist, then over the curve of her buttocks. As he began kissing her neck, her arms slid around his head, securing him to his current task, lest he pull away. When he nibbled a bit at her ear, she moaned slightly.

He decided to challenge his boundaries a little and moved his fingers to pull at the length of her skirt until they had lifted the hem enough to allow him to touch skin. When she gave him no resistance or protest, Philip fondled and caressed the backs of her legs, her inner thighs, stroking and stroking closer to her center, but never quite going high enough.

It was as though his lips and hands were attempting to coax her into saying the words he wanted to hear. And when he pulled away, and repeated the question again on an anxious whisper …

“Do you love me, Olivia?”

Her eyes were closed and her head lolled on his shoulder as she smelled the skin of his neck and felt the heat radiating off of his body. She was entranced by the moment, its passion, his fervor, and the tingling sensations rolling over her own heated skin.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” she whispered without hesitation, and a new struggle began: he knew, and she was vulnerable because of it.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes. He placed a hand on the side of her face, and, holding up the ring again as he spoke, he asked her once more. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Olivia stood in her chamber, clad in a rather frilly white dressing gown. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Any moment now, Philip would be joining her. Her head began to spin. It had all felt so much like a dream. The weeks leading up to the wedding had bustled with excitement. Olivia had made decision after decision of what she would like — the flowers, the guests, and finally her gown. It had been gold silk with pearls and crystals sewn down the bodice and throughout the folds and down the train.

The duchess had given her a diamond headpiece to wear for the ceremony, which took place in one of the larger churches in the center of London. Olivia had been worried at first about the prospect of having to walk down the aisle in front of so many people, especially as so many of them were nobles. But when she saw how Philip smiled as she neared him on her father’s arm, everything around her faded away except her love for him.

A ball at Willingham House had followed the wedding. Nearly all of London society had been there. And all of them had nothing but kind words of congratulation. Olivia had been overwhelmed by so many well-wishers. Lady Amelia embraced her excitedly, calling Olivia her new sister. She had danced with her brother, Richard, who teased her about having been right about her liking Lord Philip all along. “I told you,” he’d said. And Olivia had swatted his arm playfully.

When it came time for her and Philip to leave the ball, she hugged her father tightly when she noticed tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll still be close by, Papa,” she’d said. “Tyndall Hall isn’t very far away.”

Then she was led to a room where two maids helped her out of her wedding dress and into the sheer dressing gown she now wore. She fidgeted nervously. Philip would join her shortly, she knew, but the waiting was making her anxious.

Suddenly the door to the adjoining room opened and Philip walked in, wearing a long robe. She could see his bare chest in the V of the robe and the hungry longing started in the pit of her stomach once more. Their eyes remained locked on one another’s as he neared her.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and stared at her for a few moments. “It feels so wonderful to touch you and know that I can,” he said.

“Then touch me some more,” she said brazenly.

He kissed her deeply, and it meant more to her now than any other time before this, because now she knew, felt, that he truly did love her.

His arms came around her, lifted her and positioned her on the bed. She was lying with her head on the plush white pillows and palms facing upwards . He was above her on all fours, still only touching her with his mouth. She could feel the heat from his body and wanted it on her skin.

He broke their kiss and stared down at her, eyes dilated and full of passion. He picked up one of her hands and brought it to his mouth. “I love you, Olivia,” he said and then kissed her fingers gently.

“I love you, too,” she said.

He covered her then, lacing the fingers of their hands together as he fell upon her. His head twisted artfully over hers, his lips teasing her and then his tongue joined in, gliding over her lips again and again until finally she parted her mouth slightly and touched her own tongue to his. Timid though her touch was, he seemed to like it and moaned before delving father into her mouth as he slid his leg between hers.

He let go of her hands and grabbed her waist. Almost by instinct, at his touch, she parted her legs enough to let him settle between them. He grabbed the sash of her dressing gown and untied it so that the front flaps of the garment could fall by her side and expose her body.

“My God,” he whispered. “I’ve thought endlessly of what you would look like.”

Suddenly she was self-conscious. “You have?”

He smiled. “Of course, I have,” he said. “And nothing I ever dreamed has come close to how beautify you actually are.”

She raised her hands and placed them on either side of his head, trying to pull him back to her. He complied, but instead his mouth went to her breast, and his hands quickly followed. He squeezed and licked and kissed and suckled until Olivia began to think she would be driven mad by the sensations.

She did not allow herself to be frightened this time, despite the new intimacies taking place. Instead, she finally allowed herself simply to feel, to forget, forget about everything except how much she loved Philip and how he made her feel. She finally felt free to love him, and would stop for nothing.

When he left her again, she moaned in protest, wanting him to keep loving her. She watched unabashed as he tore away at his dressing gown, and when it had been removed, Olivia was given, for the first time, an unrestricted view of a man. His muscles were toned and well defined, his chest was broad and dusted with dark hair that met in the center of his abdomen and led down to … good Lord, that’s what they looked like?

“Does it … ,” she began shyly. “Does it always look like that?”

Philip chuckled. “No,” he said gently. “You’ve done that to me.”

He covered her again, the hot length of his body pressing against hers skin to skin. She moved her hands over his shoulders and arms and down the length of his back, all the while marveling at how hard and chiseled his body was, how different it was from her own, softer one. The hunger had returned — that strange hunger which caused her to feel hot and pliable and which also caused her to lose her mind completely and focus only on getting closer to Philip. Frustration mounted and she writhed beneath him as she wondered how she could get him closer. And then she felt him, hard and warm at her core. He dipped in slightly and then swirled himself around the outside of her. She could feel that she had become wet there, but this seemed to please him because he groaned at the discovery.

She felt him starting to enter her again, deeper this time and there was a surprisingly unpleasant pinching feeling. She tensed, unable to make sense of pain amidst all the pleasure.

“Oh, Good God,” Philip moaned.

Olivia tensed. “What’s the matter?” she asked frantically.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, noticing her changed expression. “I think it’s supposed to the first time.”

“A little,” she replied.

He kissed her temple. “I’ll try to move slowly.”

He kissed her deeply as he pulled out slightly, and then inched back in, going only slightly deeper than before. He moved like this, bit by bit at a time until finally she had absorbed the full length of him. Then he pulled out and thrust in completely. There was pain, but only mild and not enough to make her want to stop.

“Are you all right?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she rushed to say, and grabbed the side of his head and pulled him down for a kiss.

Their tongues danced together as their bodies moved with such a rhythmic passion, Olivia thought it almost sinful to feel so wonderful. And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, all the muscles in her abdomen began to tense.

Breathing became difficult and suddenly she did not know what to do with her hands. She scratched at his shoulders, down his arms and over his back. The pressures in her womb were mounting. It was entirely unbearable, yet completely pleasurable at the same time, as if it were building up to something more.

She moaned loudly, unable to figure out how to reach beyond the building, swelling sensations and achieve satisfaction. And then a burst of energy consumed her, causing her muscles to spasm and her hips to lift off the bed. Waves upon waves of deliciously tingling heat rolled over her body just as Philip achieved his own release deep within her. He collapsed on top of her, nestling his face against her neck and bringing his arms close to her body to hold her tightly as if he feared she might slip away.

She wrapped her legs around him and encircled his back with her arms.

“I … I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, still panting from physical exertion.

She believed him this time, believed his words. But more than that, so much more than that, she felt that she truly did love him in return and always would.

“Is it always like that?” asked Olivia some time later. “I hope it is.”

They were lying naked on the bed, legs intertwined with the bed sheets tangled in with their limbs. Olivia’s head was on Philip’s chest, her arm curled up on his abdomen as he ran the hand of the arm that held her up and down her back.

“It’s never like that, Olivia,” he said before kissing the top of her head. “Just with you.”

She lifted her head to kiss his lips. He pulled her atop him and encircled her with his arms. She felt considerably freer with her affections now that they had embraced in the most intimate way possible. His arms squeezed her body before his hands raked up and down her back and then finally down to her bottom, where he squeezed her again.

“Philip?” she whispered anxiously against his lips.