Beautiful Distraction (8 page)

Olivia drew back. “What kind of Runners are you employing?”

“Apparently disgusting ones.” He laughed. “Please tell me. I promise you it will remain between us.”

She stared at him. It was the
please
he had added that stopped her in her tracks. Very few men ever used that word with her. And here he was, waiting patiently, truly seeming to want to know her origins. For the first time in her life, she wanted to tell the story. To be true, real, with another person.

But it was a terrible risk.

“How do I know you won’t use whatever I tell you against me?” she whispered, holding his gaze evenly. “Or against my friend?”

He leaned back. “Right now, I don’t give a damn about Violet Milford,” he said. “Unless you tell me she has somehow forced you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

“Of course not,” Olivia said with a shake of her head. “In fact, I’m the one who brought Violet into this world, not the other way around.”

His eyes widened with surprise, an emotion she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to see. Most people saw her as glib and in control. If he thought her so passive, would he respect her?

“Then how did you become a courtesan yourself, if not led here by a friend like Violet?” he pressed.

She cleared her throat. “I was born to a very low family,” she admitted, heat filling her cheeks. “Very low, Malcolm.”

He did not move or show any hint of his reaction.

“I was not educated, I was barely cared for at all, for my mother lived in a bottle and my father preferred the slap of his belt to conversation with his children. I had to get away, run away, or I knew I would end up no better.”

He flinched. “That must have been painful for you.”

She shrugged. “I knew no better; I had no comparison point. I suppose now, having seen people who love their children…” She trailed off, thinking of Violet and the son she adored but was forced to keep as a secret from the world. “But at the time, my circumstances caused me no pain, only fear that I would be caught and punished if I failed in my escape.”

“When did you leave?” he asked, his fingers stroking hers on the tabletop, a soothing, simple gesture that meant a great deal.

“I was seventeen,” she admitted. “I slipped away with a pocket full of money I stole and no plans. And I staggered, quite luckily, into a hell where I met my first protector.”

Mal’s jaw tightened. “The one who hurt you?”

“No. Quite the opposite,” she reassured him.

His face remained tense. “Was he titled?”

“No, but a gentleman,” she said. “Lower quality, but high enough that he was far above my station. And yet, he didn’t care. In fact, he seemed to see me as a project. He told a maid to teach me to read and let me have books. And he told me to rid myself of my accent so that I wouldn’t be seen as low and stupid.”

Mal was still staring at her, his expression totally unreadable. “I cannot imagine, Olivia, that you have ever been either low or stupid, no matter how young or inexperienced or uneducated you were.”

She stared at him. She had been with a handful of men over the seven years she had been a courtesan. None had ever said anything like that to her. None had really ever seen anything about her beyond her body.

“Yur kind t’say so, guv,” she said softly, allowing her hateful accent to come through fully. She had never revealed it on purpose before and now it sounded like something better left in the gutter. “Raised as you was.”

His lips tightened. “A gentleman like them, those who turned you away.”

She nodded slightly and returned her accent to the one she had been using for years. “You must see that my past forces me to hide my true self in every way. I cannot speak as I spoke when I was a girl. I cannot act as I did. I can’t even let someone know what street I was born on in London, for fear they will toss me out because I’m too far beneath them even to warm their beds.” She shook her head. “I am always pretending, Malcolm.”

He leaned closer. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

She smiled. He thought that was true, but it wasn’t. “No?”

He cupped her chin. “No.”

Then he kissed her, sweeping away her fears, her lies, her past, and replacing it all with the warm and wonderful sensation of
him
. He was hers in that moment and she drank him in, tasting his tongue, arching toward him artlessly. She wanted him and that was not pretended, which would have to be enough.

She stood up, grabbing his arm to urge him to join her. When he did, she lifted to her tiptoes to continue kissing him. She was out of control, her body aching to be touched, filled, in a way no other man had ever inspired.

“I want you,” she admitted between kisses.

He drew back to stare at her. “Now?”

She nodded, drawing him back toward the wall. He didn’t need much coaxing and soon he pinned her there, pressing his delicious weight against her, making her shake as she rubbed her hips against his and felt his cock harden with her attention.

“You are a minx,” he grunted on a laugh as he began to lift her skirts. His hands went under the silk and he cupped her between the legs, pressing his palm against her sex and slipping a finger into her slit.

“Oh God,” she moaned, pressing her head back against the wall as he began to stroke inside of her. “That isn’t going to be enough.”

He chuckled and withdrew from her entirely, and she gasped in disappointment. But when she looked at him, he was unfastening his trousers, allowing that thick, beautiful cock free from the confines of fabric.

“Will this satisfy, demanding miss?” he teased as he grasped her hips, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his back and forced a hand between them to guide him to her entrance.

He stroked into her hard and she cried out.

“Yes, I think that will do the trick,” she gasped, clinging to him as he began to move inside of her.

His thrusts were hard and steady, pinning her to the wall and giving her no room to return his movements with ones of her own. She was helpless to him, completely at his mercy and that fact excited her far more than it should have.

Her body reacted as he kissed her, fucked her, and slowly the dam of pleasure built in her loins, rising, rising until she felt the strain of near release in every vein, every nerve, ever part of her being.

At that very moment, he broke the kiss, stared into her eyes and rotated his hips slowly.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, bucking wildly as pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain rocked her body. The orgasm was unlike any she had ever known, lifting her high and going on and on until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t experience anything but pleasure overtaking her, ruling her.

He grunted as he thrust through her crisis and suddenly he pulled from her, leaving her quivering sheath, quaking as he spent into his hand away from her. He panted as he set her back on the floor and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead.

“You certainly inspire a man to do amazing things,” he said as he stepped away and rebuttoned his trousers.

She laughed while smoothing her skirts back over her still-twitching sex. “I will take that as a compliment, sir.”

He moved forward swiftly and touched her chin. Lifting her face, he forced her to look at him.

“It
is
one, Olivia,” he whispered. “I admire your strength, I admire
you
, and I don’t want you to ever believe otherwise.”

She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity and then she nodded as she prayed her eyes wouldn’t fill with tears at his sincere declaration.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He released her finally and the intensity of his stare faded. “Now I would like to take you upstairs and be further inspired. Will you accompany me?”

He offered his arm and she laughed as she took it. But even as they went up for more untold pleasures, Olivia felt a niggling concern deep within her. Malcolm Graham was unlike anyone she had ever met. And she could not be so foolish as to mistake his infatuation with her body as anything deeper.

Nor could she allow herself to feel deeper feelings for him. That could only end in heartache.

Chapter Seven

It had been three days since Olivia’s arrival at Liam’s estate. Three days, and yet Malcolm still couldn’t help but stare at her in wonder when they were together and crave touching her whenever they were apart.

Only, at the moment, they were anything but parted. He lay across her bed, stroking his fingers along her naked hip as she smiled down at him.

“You have a very serious look about you, Mr. Graham,” she teased, reaching out to press the tip of her finger to his nose. “What solemn thoughts have you so dour?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and did his best to clear his mind.

“I was only thinking that we have been cloistered in this room for a very long time. And I fear I may not be a very good host to you.”

Her face lit up with one of her astonishingly beautiful smiles. “You could not say I have been bored here, Malcolm, sequestered in this room or not. But I wouldn’t object to an outing. What do you have in mind?”

He thought for a moment. He didn’t want to share her with the world, nor did he want to stray too far from this bed. Which left him with few options.

“There is a lake on the property,” he said. “We could have a picnic lunch there.”

She sat up and smiled. “That sounds wonderful. And why don’t we see if Violet and the earl would want to join us?”

Mal squeezed his eyes shut. Liam. He hadn’t exactly been thinking about his friend in the past three days. He hadn’t been doing his
job
at all, in truth. Not that the earl had complained. His friend seemed to be as caught up in his own affair as Malcolm was with Olivia.

If Mal was on his game, he probably would have investigated Violet further, despite Liam’s rejection of that action, but…

“Mal?” Olivia tilted her head. “You are faaarrr away, my dear. Come back.”

He grinned at her teasing and nodded. “Of course. How soon can you be dressed and ready?”

She flopped back against the pillows with a mock sigh. “Oh God, leaving this room does require clothing, doesn’t it?” She threw her hand over her eyes as if this were the worst news ever given to anyone. Mal couldn’t help but laugh louder.

“Especially if we’re inviting other people on our outing, yes,” he confirmed.

She peeked over her arm at him. “Give me an hour. I will fly through my preparations.”

He pushed to his feet and stepped into his trousers. As he slung his wrinkled shirt over his shoulders, he leaned down to kiss her. “An hour, then.”

He moved to the door and rang the bell for her servant as he passed into the hall, but the moment he was alone, his smile fell. Something was happening to him since he’d met Olivia Cranfield. And with every moment he spent with her, he was forced to face it more and more.

Olivia took a long breath of fresh air as she slipped a hand into Malcolm’s and allowed him to lead her away from the house toward the rolling hills.

Behind them, Liam and Violet followed, and Olivia felt their stares on her back with every step. Perhaps in the past, she might have removed her hand from Mal’s out of propriety. Now she didn’t care. She was with this man, this remarkable man, and she refused to do anything but enjoy it to the fullest.

“This is a beautiful place,” she sighed.

Mal looked down at her with a broad smile. “Not as lovely as my companion.”

Warmth filled her cheeks, but Olivia refused to show how much his words had moved her. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder as they continued up the path. “I’m glad I came with Violet,” she said softly.

He looked ahead of them. “So am I.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while as Olivia took in the surroundings. She had been raised in London and lived there her entire life, so the freshness of the country, the greenness of it, made her heart hurt it was so lovely. She would certainly keep these memories precious in the future, both of this place and of the man she had found here.

“This is it,” Malcolm said, motioning to a pretty little hill overlooking a gorgeous, clear blue lake.

Servants had gone ahead of them to prepare, so there was a thick blanket spread out on the grass with various picnic items across it. Olivia released Malcolm’s hand and moved toward it.

“Perfection,” she breathed as she turned to face him. “Mal, you were right, this is divine.”

He smiled and together they began to spread the food out for everyone’s consumption. But even as they began to eat together, Olivia felt Liam and Violet watching them. Her friend was all but oozing confusion at how quickly Olivia had grown close to Mal. And who could blame her? But there was something about the man that made her trust him.

The more troubling reaction was Liam’s. The earl alternated between staring at Mal and glaring at her. His scarred face was dark with emotions, first and foremost of which seemed to be anger.

And if Mal’s best friend despised her, how could Mal continue an affiliation with her?