Beautiful Distraction (7 page)

He had been fantasizing about making her knees buckle, but now it was his legs that threatened to go out from under him as she sucked him deep into her throat. And it wasn’t just the fact that she knew exactly how to suck or that she swirled her tongue around his girth until he thought he might lose consciousness, but it was that she watched him. With every stroke of her mouth and tongue, her dark eyes held his, daring him to lose control, daring him to come at her bidding.

He plunged his hands into her hair as he let pleasure be his guide. Hairpins scattered on the floor around her, but she didn’t stop the magic she was performing with her mouth. He felt his balls tightening, the rush of his seed imminent, and that was the moment he forced himself to pull free of her tempting, torturous lips.

She yelped in protest. A sound that turned to a moan as he spun her around to lean facedown on the bed, lifted her hips and speared her wet sex in one long thrust. She gripped the coverlet with her fists as she let out a low cry. With a grin, he drew back and began to grind into her, rotating his hips in smooth circles as he reached around her body to flick at her nipples with his forefingers.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his breath short when every thrust made his already edgy body move ever closer to explosion.

She whimpered, but did as he decreed, sliding a hand between her legs and stroking herself as he took her. Their rhythms merged and he squeezed his eyes shut as her body tensed and released around him, welcoming him in, letting him go, tightening so that he felt hot, sharp pleasure, releasing so that he didn’t come too soon.

She was a master, made for sex, sin. Made for him. And he took full advantage of that as his hips jerked faster. Suddenly her sheath tensed and she let out a keening wail as her body twitched with release. She tugged at him, urging him to let loose his seed and he could no longer deny what she did to him.

With a bark of pleasure, he pulled from her body and milked his own release with a hand. Then he collapsed over her, pinning her to the bed as he scattered kisses along her neck and shoulders.

She caught his hand and held it against the coverlet near her face as her breath returned to normal. Finally, he rolled from her body and let her turn on her back to face him. She was smiling, no hint of shame on her face, no whisper of regret. There was only lazy, sensual pleasure there.

“Mmm,” she said as she touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “I’m certainly glad I joined Violet if this is to be my welcome. Are all your other guests treated in such a manner?”

He laughed. “Not quite. Although we haven’t had many guests as of late, so perhaps this should become the standard of the household.”

She swatted his arm playfully. “Then I wouldn’t be special. How tragic.”

His laughter faded as he stared down into her face. “I think it would be impossible for you not to be special.”

Her expression changed, softening with surprise. Then she cupped the back of his head. “How long until we have to meet Violet and the earl for supper?”

“Eight o’clock,” he said as his lips lowered.

“Just enough time, then,” she said, then drew him to her for a deep kiss filled with even more passionate promise than before.

And as he surrendered, randy and ready as a green lad, he couldn’t help but wonder what spell this remarkable woman had woven over him. And if he would ever be free again.

Chapter Six

Olivia sighed with pleasure as the servant set yet another beautiful dish before her. Their supper had been magnificent thus far, at least in flavor and appearance.

The company, on the other hand, was another story. Since the earl and Violet had joined her and Malcolm in the dining room almost an hour ago, Liam’s state of mind had been clear. If the way he jabbed at his food was any indication, he was frustrated and angry. Meanwhile, Violet held her face very still and hardly seemed to notice the meal before them.

It was clear the two had had some kind of quarrel. Normally, Olivia wouldn’t involve herself in such things, but she knew how much this meant to Violet.

Olivia swallowed hard and smiled in the hopes she could lighten the mood and help her friend in some small way.

“You do have a splendid cook, my lord,” she said as she took a bite and hummed out pleasure at the explosion of flavor on her tongue. “I envy you these delicious meals every single day and night.”

Liam looked up to answer, eyes narrowed, but if he had an answer for her, he didn’t speak it because Malcolm leaned closer to her. She tensed at his invasion of her space and at the memories the scent of his skin put into her mind.

“Wait until you taste dessert, pet,” he murmured, his eyes meeting hers with a message that could not be ignored. He wanted her and, God help her, but she wanted him just as desperately.

And right here at the table, utterly inappropriately, they were showing their desires. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.

“How long have you worked for Liam?” Violet asked.

Olivia jolted at the sound her friend’s voice. Violet’s brow was arched and she did not look as though she approved of the obvious connection Olivia had formed so swiftly with Mal. Olivia’s cheeks flooded with heat, so she returned her gaze to her plate.

Mal straightened up as well, the spell between them temporarily broken.

“Windbury and I have been friends since…” he shook his head and cast a quick glance toward Liam, “…school, I suppose. I began managing his estates when—”

He cut himself off and Olivia jerked her gaze to him. There was a certain hesitation to his tone…a sadness that drew her as close as her physical attraction did. What had he gone through in the tumultuous years since the accident that had scarred Windbury and killed the sister of the current Duke of Rothcastle? What had he seen while the rest of the world whispered about the state of the earl?

She reached a shaking hand out to squeeze Malcolm’s arm, needing to touch him, to comfort him as she pondered those questions.

“Violet and I have also been friends for an age,” she said softly, then looked at her friend. “Haven’t we?”

Violet cleared her throat and glanced at Liam. “We have,” she responded. “I think it is lucky that both I, and Lord Windbury, have had such good friends.”

“Foolish as they may be,” Liam grumbled.

Olivia’s nostrils flared. Was the arrogant earl speaking of her or of Malcolm, a man who had stood by him no matter what? Either way, she refused to rise to his disgruntled bait.

“And now we’ve all met thanks to those friendships,” she said, keeping her attention on Mal. “We’re lucky indeed.”

Malcolm hesitated and Olivia saw his eyes flicker toward Liam. Then he slowly let them turn back to her. Only her.

“Very lucky,” he agreed, and her body tensed at the focused stare Mal gifted her.

The moment was broken, though, when Liam pushed his chair back. Mal stared at him as the earl clenched his napkin and stared at the group. Then he threw his napkin across his plate and left the room without so much as a glance behind him.

Olivia stared as Liam disappeared from the room. Was this what Malcolm had endured for the past two years? Was
this
the man he called friend?

She leaned back in her chair, hoping to appear nonchalant. “His ill humor is impressive. I didn’t mean to bother him with my silly chatter.”

Mal shook his head, staring at the door where his friend had departed. Olivia watched him. He was worried about Liam—the lines of concern were deep in his handsome face.

“I apologize, ladies,” Malcolm finally managed. “My friend has been a little…
rough
since his accident. And he doesn’t keep company often, probably because his emotions can overtake him when he isn’t expecting it. I think the reality of being around others remains troublesome to him.”

Olivia covered Mal’s hand with her own, hoping again to offer him comfort. “He was hard on you.”

He shrugged, but his frown deepened. “Sometimes he lashes out. I can ignore it most times, though we do occasionally have words if he takes things too far. I have been through the worst with him and seen him when I thought he might—”

Malcolm cut himself off and his face twisted with pain and worry and deep sadness. He took a breath before he continued, “I understand Windbury’s motives for lashing out. Though I admit, he can be harsh.”

Violet tilted her head. “And yet you stay with him.”

Olivia jolted. She’d been so focused on Mal she’d almost forgotten Violet was there. Her friend was drinking everything in, using the intimate moment between Olivia and Malcolm to gather information for her own quest. Olivia wasn’t certain she liked that thought.

Mal looked at Violet and shook his head. “He needs me.”

He said the words without any kind of judgment or regret, and Olivia’s heart swelled. This was a man who would sacrifice, who
had
sacrificed, everything he wanted or had for someone he cared for.

She shifted at the thought of how Mal would feel if he knew she had come here as an accessory to a betrayal of that someone.

Violet pushed her plate away and folded her hands on the table before her. “I would like to follow him, talk to him,” she said, looking at Mal.

He drew back and his expression was very hard to read as he said slowly, “I warn you, he will likely be inhospitable.”

Violet swallowed. “Yes. But if his anger comes from pain, then he may need company, even if he refuses to acknowledge that fact to any of us. He may desire a friend, if you don’t mind my offering myself in that position instead of you.”

“Is that what you want to be to him? A friend?” Mal asked, tone carefully neutral.

Olivia turned her face. Violet would lie now, pretend. And Olivia was torn between understanding her friend’s motives and hating that Mal was caught in the middle of them.

“If he would allow it,” Violet whispered.

Mal was quiet for a long moment, pondering her request, it seemed. Then he nodded.

“Actually, Miss Milford, I think what you offer may be what he needs more than anything I can provide. If you want to follow him, I would assume his office is where he will lick his wounds. It generally is.”

Violet got to her feet slowly. “Good evening, you two. If I don’t see you again, I hope you enjoy your dessert.”

As Violet turned, Olivia reached out and caught her hand. Now that Violet would truly go into the den of what seemed to be an ill-tempered bear, Olivia couldn’t help but fear the consequences, her own hesitations and guilt be damned.

“Are you certain?” she asked softly.

Violet hesitated, but then she gave a weak smile. “Of course. Good night.”

Her friend slipped away, leaving Olivia alone with Malcolm. But the tension in the room between them was no longer physical and fun. It was rippled with their worries, shared and yet different.

“I don’t want to offend,” Olivia said softly. “But he wouldn’t…he wouldn’t hurt her, would he?”

Mal stared at her in surprise. “Liam? No, no, of course not. He is not an abuser of women, I promise you. I wouldn’t stand for that.”

Relief flooded Olivia’s entire being and she relaxed against the chair. “I’m sorry, I must ask, you know. Women of our station…”

She trailed off and Mal nodded. “I imagine you have seen and gone through a great deal.”

“Not often,” Olivia said.

He tilted his head. “But sometimes.”

She swallowed. Somehow, in her defense of Violet, she had opened a door to her past she hadn’t wanted to unlock. Now she felt a little foolish as this handsome man stared at her expectantly, giving her some kind of permission to confess her past.

“Once,” she admitted. “Very early in my time as a courtesan.”

His jaw tightened. “Who?”

She shook her head. “I won’t give you a name.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why?”

“Because right now you look as though you might ride to London and murder him,” she said with a small smile. “And while I appreciate your wanting to be my hero, I don’t want you transported for the trouble.”

“It would be worth it,” he said through clenched teeth.

She shook her head. “He truly would not be.”

She didn’t add that
she
wasn’t worth it either, at least not out loud. It was the truth, but he would feel compelled to argue the fact and that would lead to no good conversation the rest of the night.

He was quiet for a while, then he leaned forward, folding his hands on the table, his attention focused on her entirely. “You said this bastard hurt you early in your career. What made you become a courtesan?”

Olivia tensed. Her past was something she protected judiciously. Even Violet didn’t know her whole story.

“It is a boring tale, I assure you,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

He arched a brow. “Would you like me to send Runners to investigate you instead?”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“If I wanted to know something badly enough, I would,” he said with a shrug that belied the importance of the topic. “And I find myself
wanting
to know the woman behind the mask you wear. I think I’d rather know from your lips than from the lips of a man with bad breath, a gut and no teeth.”