His Wicked Heart (41 page)

“I came to tell you about my engagement. I
wanted you to be the first to know that the banns will be read next
Sunday.”

Olivia’s vision tunneled. She knew marrying
Philippa was for the best, but having him here in person to deliver
the news hurt unbearably. She could find no reason for
pleasantries. Not when her heart ached. “You came here at this hour
to tell me that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, a rather magnanimous
affair that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Olivia grew
suspicious.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re
going.” He moved closer and peered over her shoulder into her
valise.

His proximity sent her pulse hammering. “I
don’t know yet.”

He was close enough to kiss. If she wanted
to. And how she wanted to. But she kept herself stiff.

“Might I suggest York? It’s especially lovely
in the fall. By October, the leaves are simply gorgeous.” His gaze
raked her from head to slipper as he drew out the last word.

Olivia pulled her wrapper more tightly about
her body. “I don’t think I’d like York.”

“Really?” He tucked a curl behind her ear and
traced the outline of her jaw. “I love it there and can’t imagine
anything I’d rather do than spend the autumn there with my
bride.”

She found difficulty swallowing. “Then you
should take her.”

He searched her gaze. “But you just said you
wouldn’t like it. Perhaps I can convince you.” He kissed the side
of her neck, gently at first, then sucked at her flesh. He pulled
back. “Do you think I can convince you?”

Olivia had completely lost track of the
conversation. “Convince me to do what?”

“Marry me, of course.”

She twined her arms around his neck and
kissed him. Heat suffused her limbs as she leaned up and poured all
of her heart and all of her soul into their embrace. He returned
the kiss, his lips and tongue blistering her mouth with sweet
precision. His hands scooped her close, bringing her up against his
hardened frame. His erection pulsed against her abdomen, hot and
heavy through the thin layers of her wrap and night rail.

She loosened her hold and pulled back, but he
wouldn’t let her go far. “Jasper, why?”

“I love you.”

Her knees turned to jelly, and she sagged
against him. “Oh, I love you, too.”

“Is that a yes?”

She wanted to hear him say it. “I didn’t
realize you’d asked me a question.”

He looked at her expectantly, his blue gaze
piercing all the way to her heart. “Marry me, Olivia. Please?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” He bent his head to kiss her
again.

She put her finger between their lips. “But
how? What about Lady Philippa? What about the duke?”

His tongue darted out and licked the tip of
her finger. “Philippa will understand.”

Olivia tried to ignore the decadent
sensations shooting up her arm and spreading through her body. “You
haven’t told her yet?”

“I thought it was more important I speak with
you first.” His tongue continued its work against her flesh.

“And the duke?”

“Will be livid, but I don’t care.” He sucked
her digit into his mouth. Heat flooded Olivia’s core.

Jasper pushed open her wrapper and clasped
her waist. Her nipples pebbled as his gaze locked on her barely
covered body with ravenous hunger. He leaned down and latched his
mouth on her breast, his tongue dampening the cotton covering her
flesh. His hand came up and cupped her, holding the mound to his
lips. Olivia closed her eyes in ecstasy.

He reached behind her, and she heard the
valise fall to the floor. He guided her to stand on the bench, and
she opened her eyes, curious as to what he was doing. He peeled off
his coat and sucked in his breath as it slid from his shoulder.

“Your wound?”

“Is healing.”

She helped ease his coat off, and it fell to
the floor. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, and she gently pushed it
from his torso. Then she tugged his cravat free and dropped it atop
his other discarded garments.

He moved closer; the top of his head came to
her breasts. He slid the cotton of her night rail up her legs, the
soft fabric grazing and sensitizing her skin as it ascended her
thighs and then her belly. He pushed it up past her breasts and
then pressed his lips between them. His hands released the gown and
cupped her. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples and gave each a
light pinch. Olivia gasped and pulled the night rail over her head.
He moved his hands up and pressed her raised arms back against the
wall, keeping them elevated. Standing on his toes, he sucked a
breast into his mouth, his lips and tongue working the nipple into
a tight frenzy. Olivia clutched the night rail in her fists as her
body thrummed with need.

Jasper continued his assault on the other
breast, keeping her pinned against the wall with her body open to
him. He licked and sucked, driving heat to her belly and moisture
to her core. She moaned, and he released her arms.

His mouth descended. Between her breasts,
along her belly, past her navel—pausing just to swirl his tongue
inside the slight indentation. Belatedly, she realized she could
lower her arms. She dropped her night rail and clutched at his
head.

He clasped her waist and drew her pelvis
forward to his mouth. One long finger traced down her mound and
grazed the nub at the top of her most private place. She bucked
against him in need. His hand moved between her legs and parted her
thighs. Gently, he stroked her heated flesh, coaxing murmurs of
delight from her mouth.

He slid one finger into her tight warmth, and
she gripped his hair. Then his mouth descended and sucked that nub
into a fevered heat. Olivia laid her head back against the wall and
let the sensations overwhelm her. His mouth worshipped her while
his finger met her thrusts. Then there were two fingers, and that
was so much better. He pumped her and licked her, and coherent
thought left her brain.

Then he turned her against the wall. Her
swollen nipples pressed against the hard surface. She turned her
head to the side, gasping as she hovered near the brink. Why had he
stopped?

His finger traced down her back, followed by
his tongue. Shamelessly, she pushed back against him. His hands
cupped her bottom, and he licked the base of her spine.

“Kneel,” he said.

She’d no idea what he’d do next, but she
trusted him. Yes, by God she trusted him. She kneeled and he
pivoted her body so that she was lengthwise on the bench, with the
wall to her right. He moved behind her and stroked her bottom
again. Then her back. Slow, languorous touches that didn’t come
close to satisfying her. She pushed backward, seeking something,
anything that would bring her release.

One of his hands left her body for a moment.
Then he clasped her hips and brought her back. His hot flesh nudged
her cleft. God, yes. Olivia pressed back and he sheathed himself
inside of her. She wrapped her fingers around the edges of the
bench.

He stayed like that a moment. Her flesh
accepted him, and very quickly she wanted him to move. Slowly,
agonizingly, he withdrew and then just as slowly entered her again.
He moved one hand up her side and reached around to her breast. He
plucked at her nipple as he continued his slow penetration and
withdrawal. In, out, in, out. Sensations built inside of her, and
she couldn’t keep herself from moving back and forth with his
rhythm. But it wasn’t fast enough. She wanted more.

She reached back and grabbed his thigh urging
him faster. He complied, spearing himself inside of her with
delicious force. Faster now, he pumped. He moved his hand from her
breast and rubbed it along her upper back until he cupped the back
of her neck. He pulled her head back and ran his tongue along the
shell of her ear. “Come for me,” he whispered.

His other hand wrapped around her hip and
flicked her sex. Olivia cried out as sheer bliss ruptured any
semblance of calm and sent her over the edge of sanity. She
squeezed her eyes shut and still saw light. Blinding, beautiful,
soul-shattering light.

He clasped her hips again and drove deep,
pummeling her until he cried out.

His rhythm slowed. Olivia rested on her
elbows, letting her head fall forward as she came back to
earth.

After a few minutes, Jasper stood and helped
her to a sitting position. He found a cloth and handed it to her to
wipe herself, turning his back to offer a bit of privacy. Then he
came back and scooped her into his arms.

She gasped. “Careful! What about your
shoulder?”

“It’s fine. It barely pains me at
present.”

She gave him a mock frown. “Still, I worked
hard on those stitches and prefer you kept them in place.”

He carried her to the bed and laid her atop
the coverlet. He stared down at her and exhaled. “I can’t believe
you’re mine.”

She smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you’re
mine.” She scooted to the side and pulled the covers down. “Now
take off your clothes and get in here with me.”

He quickly complied and soon they were in the
cool softness of the bed, Olivia wrapped tight in his arms, her
head against his chest. “Do you have to go?” she asked.

“Not right away. Seems a shame to let a naked
female in bed go to waste.”

She grinned up at him. “A shame indeed.” She
kissed his nipple, and he sucked in a breath. “I look forward to
when you don’t have to leave.”

“Very soon, my love.” He kissed her forehead
and then turned her to her back. He rose over her with a wicked
leer. “But first...”

Olivia pushed him over and climbed on top of
him. “You mustn’t overwork your shoulder.”

“I do love a commanding woman.” He chuckled.
“I’m yours.”

“Forever,” she said, as she brushed her lips
over his.

“Forever.”

FOREVER, IT turned out, was much shorter than
Jasper realized. He’d secreted himself out of Olivia’s bedroom when
the morning sun had just begun to flirt with the horizon. He rode
his horse out of Louisa’s mews wearing a wide grin and humming a
ridiculous tune.

It was so early, he noted, that he could keep
his dawn appointment with Clifton if the man was stupid enough to
meet him. But presumably the duke had taken care of this. Perhaps
he’d even sent word to Saxton House, not that Jasper had been there
to receive it.

When Jasper entered his townhouse, he was
immediately greeted by his bespectacled butler, Thurber, who
appeared as unruffled at daybreak as he did at midnight. The
man—another of his rescued retainers—was unnatural.

He inclined his head at Jasper. “May I offer
congratulations, my lord?”

Jasper slowed as he entered the hall.
“For?”

“Your nuptials.”

Ice filled Jasper’s veins. “What do you know
of my wedding?”

“A note arrived a few hours ago from His
Grace. He delivered it personally. He was, ah, rather pleased and
shared the news with us directly.” Thurber handed him the
missive.

Jasper felt like he’d swallowed a jar of
lead. He opened the parchment and the marble seemed to fall away
beneath him.

I’ve taken care of Clifton and his newspaper
nonsense. I took the opportunity to share the news of your
engagement with his friend, who was more than happy to print that
story instead of the fabrication Clifton provided.

You’ve made me very proud.

Holborn
.

Bloody, bloody hell
. His engagement to
Philippa was going to be in the newspaper.
That very
morning
. Hours from now all of London would know he was to be
married—but to the wrong bride. Jasper crumpled the missive in his
fist. There was no way he could stop it.

OLIVIA and Louisa stepped out of their coach
on Bond Street at ten o’clock for their appointment with the boot
maker. Olivia thought of Mr. Beatty and his daughter. Instead of
him crafting her a pair of boots with whatever was left from his
clients, she’d now have the most fashionable—and likely most
expensive—boot available. Although she knew Jasper had helped Mr.
Beatty, she wanted to share some of her good fortune with him and
his family.

“Louisa, would you mind terribly if I visited
a few people I knew from before? I should like to ascertain their
welfare and perhaps ensure they have a comfortable winter.”

Louisa beamed. “You’re every bit as generous
as Jasper. Such a benevolent pair you’ll make.”

They were just about to step into the shop
when they heard, “Louisa!” Lady Badby made her way toward them, her
overlarge hat swaying atop her head. Olivia and Louisa paused and
waited for her to arrive.

“Good morning!” she huffed. “I wanted to be
the first to congratulate you on your nephew’s betrothal. It’s not
a surprise, of course, but a sad day for hopeful young ladies all
over England.”