A Taste of Temptation (20 page)

He made her weak with a wanting she didn’t understand and couldn’t resist.

She couldn’t deny to herself that she wanted so much more from him, but she wouldn’t admit it to him.

His eyes opened and he saw her watching him.

“Have you changed your mind?” he whispered into her mouth.

“No,” she answered, before surrendering to him as his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, taking and giving as much as she received.

There was suddenly a desperate urgency in the way he circled her in his arms and held her close, in the way he plundered her mouth. His tongue swirled and skimmed along the lining of her lips, sending chills of excitement to pebble her skin.

Andrew’s hands slid up to her shoulders and he raked her robe off her arms and let it fall to the floor.

He lifted his head a little but their breaths still mingled as he whispered, “I love the taste of you. I love the feel of your soft skin.”

Olivia’s stomach flipped with delicious curls of passion.

She hadn’t forgotten the taste or the feel of him, either.

He peppered her lips with several soft sensuous kisses.

Heated with the sweet rush of desire, she lifted her lips to him again, and this time the gentle, sensuous kiss had been replaced with eagerness. There was demanding pressure in the meeting of their mouths.

Olivia felt a hunger inside Andrew that matched her own.

His lips left hers and burned a hot trail of moisture all the way down the column of her neck to the hollow of her throat. There he stopped and tasted her skin with his tongue.

She gasped with pleasure. Olivia’s arms slid around his neck. Her hands found the back of his head and her fingers wove through his hair before moving down to his back to caress the rock-hard muscles of his naked skin.

Andrew’s hand slowly yet firmly moved up her rib cage and cupped her breast with a possessive hold that was firm but not hurting. His other hand slid around to her buttocks.

He pressed her womanhood against the hard shaft beneath his trousers.

Olivia melted against his heat. Once again she welcomed the enticing pressure of him nestled convincingly against her softness.

“Olivia, tell me you want me right now. Let me hear you say it.”

Her body wanted to say yes, yes, a thousand times yes, but her mind rejected that idea. He said he would pick the time and the place. He must pursue her.

“No,” she whispered against his lips.

“Do you want me?”

She almost smiled at this game of words they were playing while her body felt as if it was being tortured with one amazing sensation after the other.

“It’s none of your concern what I want,” she managed to murmur into his mouth.

“I’m making progress. That doesn’t mean no.” He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth, driving her wild with wanting. His hand slid down her hip and grasped the hem of her chemise and yanked it up to her chest. With ease his hand slipped over and caressed her bare breasts one after the other and back again.

Olivia gasped at the sheer pleasure of his hand on her skin. With his thumb and finger he softly rolled one nipple back and forth. She squeezed her legs together to try to stop the building tension inside her.

“Tell me you want me, Olivia,” he whispered again.

“No,” she managed to say again, even though her body cried out yes.

“Then stop me, Olivia. Stop me.”

27239_ch01.001-297.qxd 9/19/05 6:09 PM Page 173

Thirteen

8

S
he had surprised
the hell out of him again.

Just when he thought he had Olivia where he wanted her, she pushed out of his arms and calmly walked out of his bedchamber, leaving him frustrated and irritated.

It was hours later and Andrew stood with a group of men who were discussing the capabilities of their latest prize-winning horses and hounds. Ordinarily he would be very interested in both, as hunting and racing were two of his favorite things to do, but not tonight. He couldn’t keep his eyes or his thoughts off his wife or off her unexpected visit to his room a few hours ago.

Had she really heard voices or was it part of her continued plan to try to get into his bed? And if she wanted to get there so badly why wouldn’t she have admitted to him that she wanted him as he had tried to get her to do?

And why was he fighting so hard against taking her to his bed? It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. He did. Desperately.

What he didn’t like was the thought of her manipulating him again.

A hand clapped Andrew on the back and he turned to face John.

“I’m glad to see you decided to spend the evening with your wife.”

“The evening but not the night,” Andrew said in a surly voice.

“That doesn’t sound promising, my friend. Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Andrew and John left the group Andrew had been standing with and threaded their way through the crowd of fash-ionably dressed men and beautifully gowned women. They made their way to the other side of the room not too far from where Olivia stood with her aunt, Lady Lynette, and Lady Colebrooke.

John picked up two glasses of amber liquid from a servant and gave one to Andrew as he said, “Something tells me you aren’t taking to marriage very well.” Andrew looked at his friend. He was actually having a hell of a time with it. How could he explain he wanted his wife yet he didn’t? He’d never been in a dilemma like that before.

“Would you take to marriage well if you were forced into it?”

“Probably not,” John said.

“Then tell me how the hell do you think I’m supposed to feel?”

John looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then his gaze strayed over to where Olivia stood. “Look at it like this, it could have been worse.”

“How?”

“Well, you could have been forced to marry someone like Miss Bardwell.”

John’s words reminded Andrew of the young lady they had once considered as cold and unattractive as a fish. His name had been romantically linked to Miss Bardwell’s a couple of years ago simply because her dowry was heavy and his pockets were light.

“I would have shot myself before I would have married her,” Andrew said with a light chuckle on his lips.

“My point exactly. At least Olivia is beautiful, shapely, and from the short time I spoke to her after the wedding she seemed quite intelligent.”

Much too clever for her own good,
Andrew thought as his gaze drifted over to look at her for at least the fiftieth time since they arrived at the ball and parted ways. She didn’t appear the least bothered by their passionate embrace in his room. His mood was black. She was laughing and talking cheerfully with the ladies as if nothing had happened between them while he still bore the remnants of interrupted passion.

John was right. She was exceptionally beautiful, especially when she smiled and laughed.

“She still hasn’t smiled for me.”

“Maybe you’ve never given her reason to.” Andrew’s attention jerked back to his friend. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken those last words aloud until John answered him.

Could John’s observation be right? Andrew had seen passion, concern, and shock in her delicate features but he hadn’t seen laughter, contentment, or any happiness in her face when they had been alone. He supposed John was right. He hadn’t given her a reason to smile at him. For some reason he suddenly felt a great need to see her beautiful smile directed at him.

“Is Truefitt’s column right?” John asked. “Did you spend your entire wedding night at the club?” Andrew didn’t answer. He took another drink from his almost empty glass.

“You did, didn’t you? You left her bed and went straight to the club to spend the night drinking and gaming. I can’t believe you did that.”

“I didn’t take her to bed,” Andrew muttered.

John’s dark eyes rounded, and then suddenly blinked rapidly. “You didn’t—you didn’t?”

“Right. I didn’t.” Andrew turned up his glass and emptied it. He then winced as the strong liquor burned his throat and continued into his stomach.

John was clearly stunned, and Andrew didn’t like admitting he’d failed to consummate his marriage on his wedding night. He was surprised he’d admitted it. That wasn’t something a man would be proud of and certainly not something he’d tell just anybody, but he and John had been friends since they were fifteen.

“It’s complicated,” Andrew felt compelled to say.

“Complicated?” John asked as he glanced over at Olivia again. “What the devil makes it complicated?” Andrew knew John was seeing exactly what he saw: a beautiful and vibrant young woman whom any man in his right mind would bed if he had the chance.

Andrew felt annoyed as hell. He had returned from Derbyshire thinking to pick up with his unencumbered life in London as the
ton
’s most notorious bachelor, the last of the Terrible Threesome and the one that hadn’t been caught.

He hadn’t planned on getting trapped into marriage three weeks after returning home.

“Just trust me on this, my friend.”

“All right, I guess I understand,” John said, giving his full attention back to Andrew.

“No, you don’t,” Andrew said tightly.

“No, hell I don’t. You’re right. I don’t understand not bedding your wife on your wedding night.”

“Damnation, John, keep your voice down before someone hears you,” Andrew said, looking around to the room to see if anyone was watching them. Thankfully everyone nearby seemed too interested in their own conversations to be listening to others.

John glanced around the room, too. He looked as exasperated as Andrew.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to hear anything so outrageous. What in bloody hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing I want to talk about. And don’t press me about this, John. It’s not something I can or want to explain.”

“You’re damned right you can’t explain it.”

“John, drop it.”

His friend looked as if he was going to say more, but stopped himself and let out a troubled sigh. He stared uncomfortably at Andrew.

Finally he said, “So tell me, what’s the latest word on Hawkins?”

Andrew let out a scattered breath before saying, “The Runner thinks Hawkins must have left Derbyshire for a safer place. Now that I’ve had time to consider it, I think that’s probably true.”

“Even though Derbyshire is where his family lives?”

“Yes. The bastard probably left town the very night he shot at me and gave the Magistrate the slip. Thompson thinks it was worth the time he spent there waiting to see if anyone was hiding Hawkins, but there’s been no sign of him.”

“You know, I have an idea,” John said. “After the Season is over why don’t we take a ride over to Derbyshire and have a look for him. We talked about that possibility with Chandler, remember?”

Yes, Andrew remembered, and his friends had quickly axed the idea when he’d mentioned it. Andrew was smart enough to know that John was just feeling sorry for him.

He appreciated that, but in another way he hated it, too.

He could handle Hawkins and Olivia by himself.

“We’ll talk about it after the Season,” Andrew said, knowing they would never go. He wouldn’t take his friends away from their wives, not even for a short adventure to Derbyshire.

8

O
livia watched her
aunt talk, laugh, and gossip with Lady Lynette and Lady Colebrooke and she had to smile.

Coming to London was the best thing that could have happened to Agatha. She hadn’t looked so young, so healthy, and so happy in years, but Olivia couldn’t say the same thing about herself.

London, with its people, its parties, and its excitement, was very different from the quiet life they lived in Kent.

This was obviously the life Agatha was born to live. And Olivia found herself happy that her aunt was back where she belonged. But Olivia knew she was a long way from finding her own happiness.

She had decided not to mention to Agatha that someone or something had entered her room and that a pike had mysteriously fallen from a suit of armor. She was sure Agatha would insist it was Lord Pinkwater’s ghost trying to get a message to her. Olivia wasn’t ready to admit that it might possibly be a ghost creating mischief in Lord Dugdale’s home.

While she had no trouble believing Ellie might be behind the pike and vase, there was no way the maid could have been the person in her bedchamber. She was much too small for the person Olivia saw. But was the man’s form Lord Pinkwater’s ghost? Olivia needed more proof.

The only thing she was really sure of was that someone had entered her room.

Under the guise of turning her head to cough, Olivia glanced across the room to where Andrew stood talking with his friend John. They seemed to be in a deep conversation about something.

Olivia’s heart ached just looking at him.

She didn’t know where she’d found the strength to push out of his arms and leave his room rather than simply admit she wanted him to make love to her. It had taken all her willpower because it had felt so right to be circled in his warm embrace, pressed against his hard chest, his moist lips on hers.

It must have been the fear that he would reject her once again if she admitted she wanted him to make her his wife in every sense of the word. And that gave her the strength to walk away from him.

But she’d learned her lesson about walking into his room no matter what she thought might be going on in there. Twice she’d stepped inside and twice she’d regretted it. If he ever decided he wanted her, he would have to come to her room, to her bed.

“Olivia,” Lady Lynette said softly, as she turned away from the other two ladies and faced Olivia directly. “Before I go, I wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about what you said about that new apothecary.”