Magnus hadn’t been inside the governor’s residence for very long after coming ashore following the overseeing of the fireworks display from the deck of his ship, before it became obvious to him that Olivia was deliberately avoiding him.
That she was somehow, within the confines of the lieutenant governor’s home, managing to ensure the two of them were never close enough to so much as brush against each other, let alone engage in conversation.
The salon was crowded and noisy with conversation. A quartet of musicians played softly as background music rather than as an invitation to dance.
Even so, it became apparent to Magnus that if he conversed with people on the left side of the room, then Olivia contrived to cross and speak with people on the right, and vice versa.
Because she wished to avoid the possibility of him referring to or repeating the intimacies the two of them had shared in his cabin yesterday?
That surmise somehow didn’t fit with what Magnus knew of Olivia’s straightforward nature. But neither could he think of any other explanation for her avoidance of his company when they had not parted badly or at odds with each other. Admittedly, he had not attempted to see or speak with her since then, but that was because he’d every intention of being with her again this evening. Of possibly making love to her again.
Indeed, he had only to think of touching Olivia’s creamy flesh, of sucking and biting her nipples and feeling the climax that shook her body mere minutes later, for his heart to pound loudly and his cock to engorge.
Those memories of her had been so vivid, so tangible, that once alone in his bunk the previous night, Magnus had been unable to stop himself from taking his own cock in hand and pumping until he spilled hot cum across his stomach and chest.
Not once, but twice.
And then again this morning.
Magnus had never made love with a woman of such unrestrained passions as Olivia.
He had rarely required the services of the ladies of the demimonde, but he knew from other gentlemen that they were apt to feign a physical climax, usually in order to flatter the man’s ego in the hope of being given more money.
There had been no pretense where Olivia’s climax was concerned, only that same honesty he was coming to value in her so highly.
He had never had much to do with married or widowed ladies either, but he could not help thinking that if those women were as naturally responsive as Olivia had proven to be yesterday, then there would be little reason for any married gentleman to ever need to take a mistress.
Could it be that Olivia was embarrassed by the depth of her physical response to him and would rather avoid him than face him again?
Whatever the reason for Olivia’s reticence toward him this evening, Magnus knew he was becoming extremely irritated by the fact she was avoiding him rather than stating her case outright, as had been her practice with him until now.
In complete contrast to her reluctance to so much as speak to him, Magnus knew he had been anticipating seeing Olivia again this evening with more pleasure than he had any woman for a very long time. If ever. Not only was Olivia beautiful and passionate, but she possessed an honesty of nature which he found very refreshing in one so young.
A character trait totally at odds with that of her aunt, the treacherous Emelia Brigham, he remembered with a hardening of his heart.
Ah, could that possibly be the explanation for Olivia’s behavior this evening?
Magnus glanced across the room to where he could see Lady Frances Fitzgerald standing in conversation with several other ladies. Except she was looking at Magnus despite chatting with her female companions.
A questioning rise of one of Magnus’s dark eyebrows, a guilty blush to Lady Frances’s cheeks and an avoidance of his gaze, was all Magnus needed to confirm his suspicions. Lady Frances had now informed Olivia of the history of his past association with her family.
No doubt Lady Frances had felt compelled to talk to Olivia after learning of their time alone together in his cabin yesterday. Possibly one of the ladies she was with this evening had relayed the information. Magnus recognized at least two of them from the group of visitors to his ship yesterday.
Dear God, if that was true, then what must Olivia think of him now?
Magnus Forsythe was still the handsomest gentleman Olivia had ever set eyes upon!
She had tried, dear God, how she had tried, to push thoughts of him firmly from her mind, following the frankness of her conversation with her aunt earlier today.
One glimpse of Magnus this evening when he entered the governor’s salon, his appearance once again resplendent and handsome in his dress uniform, and Olivia’s resolve not to be affected by him had simply crumbled into dust. Her nipples had instantly engorged and between her thighs had become damp and swollen.
Which told Olivia that no matter how she might wish it were otherwise, Magnus remained the most attractive and compelling gentleman she had ever met. So much so that instead of treating him with the contempt he deserved, Olivia had been forced into avoiding his company altogether.
When that proved more and more difficult, Olivia left the crowded salon behind her to walk alone in the castle’s portrait gallery, where several candles had been lit to alleviate the increasing darkness outside. She could still hear the music playing in the main salon, but the conversation was at least muted.
Even more beneficial, there was no Magnus Forsythe near for her to need to evade!
An avoidance which did not sit well with her usual bluntness of nature. But what else was she to do when—
Olivia was ashamed to say she released an unbecoming squeak of alarm when her arm was taken in a tight grip, and she felt herself being turned to face the very gentleman she had been trying to avoid.
Magnus’s grip on her arm loosened before he released her completely and stepped back to give a formal bow. “Might I be allowed the pleasure of claiming this waltz?”
Sudden tears stung Olivia’s eyes as she gazed into his too-handsome face.
A part of her still wished to tell him to go away and never touch or come near her again.
Another part could not help but appreciate that Magnus must have been aware of her movements to have noticed she had disappeared from the salon before then bothering himself to seek her out in this way. Nor could she deny that his invitation to dance had been made in such a way as to be a direct apology for his not having kept the assignation to dance with her on the governor’s terrace that first evening.
“Olivia…?” He held out his arms in a pose of what would, once she stepped into his embrace, unmistakably lead into them dancing a waltz together.
How very much Olivia wanted to dance with him!
But to do so would mean being held by him, with one of his hands about her waist holding her close against the hardness of his body, and the other hand tightly gripping one of hers as he twirled her about the gallery. Their chest, hips, thighs, and legs would brush against each other as they spun about the room.
Olivia chewed on her bottom lip as she recalled how passionately she had responded to him yesterday. She had no wish to make a fool of herself over this man for a second time. Which she would surely do if they were so physically close.
“Olivia, look at me.”
She gave a start at his authoritative tone, at the same time as she instinctively obeyed the request.
The warmth of Magnus’s deep blue gaze easily met and held hers as he lightly gripped the tops of her arms. “Whatever you have been told of the past, whatever you have surmised from that information, I wish you to know that within seconds of the two us meeting, of my having spoken with you, I only ever see you, Olivia, when the two of us are together.”
Her heart gave a lurch at how Magnus did not shy away from referring to the subject of the past, which had caused her so much heartache since she’d had tea earlier with her Aunt Franny and learned of Magnus’s past relationship with her own mother’s sister.
Because he either knew, or had guessed, that was the reason for Olivia’s reticence to being in his company again this evening.
She ceased chewing on her bottom lip to raise her chin. “My name is Olivia Elizabeth Emelia Buchan—”
“I know exactly who you are, Olivia.” His grip tightened on her arms. “And what you are,” he added in a gentler voice. “Which is a beautiful, forthright, and completely honest young lady I am deeply attracted to.”
“But—”
“Dance with me.” He released her to again hold out his arms in invitation.
Magnus held his breath as he waited for Olivia’s response, not sure if he had said or done enough for it to be a positive one.
He felt an ache in his chest from having seen the tears that briefly glistened in Olivia’s beautiful violet eyes when he first spoke to her, and her poor abused bottom lip had been chewed almost to the point of drawing blood.
Whatever had been revealed to her since they last met, whatever he might have said or done to add to her feelings of hurt or betrayal, he deeply regretted being the cause of Olivia knowing even a moment of pain or disappointment because of him.
Because he honestly believed Olivia was like no other woman he had ever known.
She was more.
So much more.
More beautiful.
More honest.
More tempting.
She was just more in every way Magnus could possibly think of.
And he had no intention of allowing a friendship which had ended badly eighteen years ago to stand between him and being allowed to spend more time enjoying Olivia’s company now. At his core, he knew he had allowed that almost twenty-year-old disappointment, his wariness of a woman’s intentions, to affect his life and opinions too much already.
But not this.
Not Olivia.
He no longer cared what her relationship was to Emelia Brigham. No one in their right mind—and, at almost forty years of age and an admiral in His Majesty’s Navy, Magnus believed he was very much in his—could ever confuse the two women. There simply was no comparison. Olivia was pure gold, and Emelia had been no more than tarnished metal.
Impatient to once again hold Olivia in his arms, Magnus didn’t wait another second for her to answer him, but instead drew her firmly into his arms and began to dance.
He knew there was no way, as physically close as they were from chest to thighs, that Olivia could remain unaware of his engorged and heavy cock.
For her.
Only for her.
Oh, how glorious it was to be spun and twirled about the gallery in a waltz whilst held in Magnus’s strong arms, one of her hands upon his shoulder the other held firmly in his.
The heaviness Olivia had felt from earlier had been lifted from her chest by Magnus’s reassurance he knew exactly who the woman was he now held in his arms.
It was without a doubt the same woman who had caused his cock to engorge and heat as it pressed so intimately against her abdomen.
Magnus had not directly denied the existence of that close association from his past, but perhaps it didn’t matter when he had assured her that when he was with her, she was the only woman he saw or thought of.
He would be gone from the island in a matter of days, his duty as envoy for the Prince Regency at an end, and Olivia was to remain here with the Fitzgeralds for another few months at least.
It would be pointless on Olivia’s part to think beyond that.
In other words, there was no future for them, only the here and now to be enjoyed to its fullest.