Everything you thought you knew is wrong.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Being Reckless
Olivia’s heart felt bruised as she allowed Edward to walk her away from the village. When she had seen the children, the idea had been so clear—help them however she could, with what means she had at her disposal.
The means were in Edward’s wallet, and the help would be to offer the children some food. But the merchants had declined the offer, as though she had no right to make it, and the children had just stared at her when she tried to ask them about it.
And then one of the children’s mothers had glared at her and stepped over to the children, her chin lifted proudly.
And then—and then she had been publicly humiliated. When all she wanted was to help.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
She bit her lip and raised her chin. “I am fine,” she said, even though her voice was wobbly.
“You were trying to do the right thing,” Lady Pearl said, coming up to Olivia’s other side. Ida walked behind them.
“I was. They just didn’t want my help.” Olivia spoke wonderingly, as though she found it difficult to believe.
And of course to her it was.
“Not everybody wants help, Olivia.” Edward had hold of her arm, and he felt her jerk away at his words.
She stopped and spun to look at him, a high wash of color on her cheekbones. “But they don’t always know! They might be in need of things, those children could be hungry, and they wouldn’t know! Or they’re too proud,” she said in a bitter tone.
Edward shook his head slowly. “But I know. I do know about them, and this situation. It’s not like the ducks, Olivia. The townspeople are perfectly happy and are doing quite well. But you just assumed, since you are determined to see injustice and inequity everywhere, that those people were suffering. But if you had asked . . .” And he let his words trail off, waiting to see her reaction.
Her expression froze, and then he saw her blink as though processing her thoughts. She bit her lip, and he wondered for a moment if she would cry—but of course she wouldn’t, she was Olivia.
His beautiful, brave, headstrong, foolhardy, proud Olivia.
“I should have asked,” she said at last.
And then he fell even more in love with her.
“Olivia?” Lady Pearl said, tapping her sister on the arm. “We should start walking, it looks as though it might rain.”
Olivia shook her head. “Go ahead, you two. Mr. Wolcott will walk with me.” Then her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “Though I should have asked, shouldn’t I?”
“You don’t have to ask,” Edward replied, seeing Lady Pearl’s mouth open as she heard his words.
“We’ll just be going along then,” Pearl said, a knowing look in her eye. She took Lady Ida’s arm as the two started walking briskly back, Pearl bending her head close to her sister’s and whispering furiously.
Leaving them alone.
Edward glanced up at the sky. Sure enough, there were some clouds forming.
“I believe your sister is correct. It looks as though it’s going to rain.”
Olivia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t control everything. I definitely cannot control the weather.” She sounded deflated, and Edward suppressed the urge to take her in his arms. He would enjoy that—and she might as well—but the most important thing now was to restore her confidence.
Instead, he raised his eyebrow at her. “You can’t? Lady Olivia, you wound me.” He clapped his hand on his heart and staggered back as though struck. And then righted himself and grinned. “It’s fine. You suffered a humiliation just now. It just proves you’re human.”
She snorted. “I have always been human, Edward.” She looked up at him, her eyes vividly bright in the increasing greyness of the sky. “I wanted to be more than just me, Lady Olivia. One of the duke’s daughters, a lady who would do just as she was supposed to.”
“And you have.” He stepped toward her, putting his hands on her arms and tugging her forward to him. “You are remarkable, Olivia. You are brave and strong and I admire you. Even if you can be stubborn and rush into things without heed.”
Her lips curled into a rueful smile. “That is true.” She slid her fingers up his arms and curled her fingers into his hair. “I find that I like rushing into things,” she said.
So of course he had no choice by then but to kiss her.
Was there anything better than being kissed by Edward?
Well, perhaps. Although none of that had happened yet, so she couldn’t answer for certain.
They were standing out on the road, for goodness’ sake, where anyone could see them. Not that they’d seen a soul until they went into town—into that blasted village filled with people who very definitely did not want her assistance—so it likely didn’t matter.
He slid his tongue into her mouth, and she opened her lips to accept him, loving how delicious it felt, how her whole body was starting to tingle.
His hands were stroking her back, up and down, and she moved even closer into his body, putting her hands on his side, underneath his coat, sliding her fingers on his body.
She’d seen what he looked like underneath his clothing. She wanted to see it all again—his firm, muscled chest, his broad shoulders, the sprinkling of hair on his chest. She wanted to run her fingers all over him. Yes, there too.
There where she felt him pressed against her.
She wanted more.
She drew her head back and looked at him, noting his heavy-lidded gaze, his deep inhalation of breath, his intense focus on her.
“It’s going to rain. We should find shelter.”
He looked at her as though he didn’t understand at first, then nodded, a wry smile on his mouth.
“I know just where to go. We can stay there until the storm passes.”
He took her arm and they ran, ran down the narrow path hand in hand, her heart beating against her ribs, her thoughts filled with a tumult of emotions—I love him, I don’t know who I am, I want this, I want him, I want, I want, I want.
They ran until she was breathless, and she lagged behind as he pulled her along. They came to the outskirts of Mr. Beechcroft’s property, where Olivia saw a small shed with shutters.
“There,” he said, slowing his pace and walking briskly. “It’s where the gardeners keep their tools, but they won’t be working today.”
She bit her lip and looked up at him.
“But if you have changed your mind, and you want to return to the house, we can do that as well,” he said, his eyes intent on her face.
“No. I want this.” I want you.
He smiled, and turned to open the door, allowing her to step inside ahead of him.
The shed was spare and tidy, a variety of what she assumed were gardening tools hanging on the walls. There was a pile of cloth bags in one corner, and a few chairs set in front of a rough, wood-hewn table.
The room was dark, and it felt immediately more intimate. As though only they existed here, in this moment. He was Edward and she was Olivia, and that was all there was to them.
He shut the door and turned to her, taking her in his arms again and lowering his mouth to her lips.
She didn’t hesitate, but opened her lips to slide her tongue into his mouth, placing her palms on his chest and stroking the firm muscles she felt underneath his clothing.
She needed to see him again.
She reached up to push his jacket off his shoulders, sliding the sleeves off his arms without breaking the kiss.
It was awkward, it probably looked ridiculous, but she didn’t care about that. She just wanted him.
He smiled under her mouth, and she felt a chuckle in her chest.
Who knew kissing could be so fun?
He withdrew for a moment so he could remove his jacket entirely, tossing it onto one of the wooden chairs.
She raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his waistcoat. “That too, please,” she said in her most commanding manner.
“Have I mentioned how much I like it when you tell me what to do?” he replied, grinning wickedly as his fingers went to his buttons. He undid them rapidly, far faster than she would have done, and soon enough his waistcoat was lying on top of his jacket, leaving him only in his shirt and trousers.
He paused as his hands went to the fabric of his shirt.
“Why are you stopping? I want it off now,” she said, noting how breathily she spoke. How urgently she wanted him to take his shirt off so she could see him—just him—again.
He nodded toward her. “I expect there to be some reciprocity in this arrangement. We are equal, are we not? We all deserve what each other has?”
She felt her lips curve into a rueful smile. “When I have spoken like that in the past, I did not mean about this,” she said, gesturing in the space between them.
“But it is fair, isn’t it? That we each be given a chance?” He drew the tails of his shirt out of his trousers, exposing a bare swath of skin.
There was enough light in the shed, thankfully, for her to see the trail of hair that led down his skin into his trousers.
To there.
“I suppose in the interest of equality,” she said, turning around so she had her back to him.
His fingers went immediately to the buttons on the back of her dress, and he worked quickly, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. A curl tickling her skin as he bent toward her.
A few minutes later—there were far too many buttons, Olivia decided—he’d tugged her sleeves down and she finished the work as his hands went to her waist to push her gown down.
She stepped out of the fabric as he leaned over to pick the gown up, folding it carefully, his eyes averted from her as he placed it on the other chair.
And then he was looking at her, and she caught her breath at the intensity of his gaze. She felt hot all over, even though she was standing in her shift and corset, and the air was cool.
Her fingers went to the ties of her corset, and she tried to undo them, but her hands were shaking.
“Here, let me,” he said, a knowing smile on his mouth.
She reached for his shirt, tugging him closer as she felt his fingers brush her upper neck, lower, and then her breast.
Oh. That felt incredible, and yet there were still layers of fabric between them. What would it be like when his bare palm was on her skin?
She swallowed against the thickness of her throat.
“Off,” she said, drawing her fingers, still holding the bunched fabric of his shirt up.
“Likewise,” he muttered, removing her corset and putting it on top of his waistcoat.
Leaving her in her shift.
He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, apparently not caring any longer about keeping his clothing tidy.
She licked her lips as she looked at him, his chest broad and muscled, his shoulders wide, his waist narrow.
He looked like a statue of some proud warrior, and yet he was warm, and living and breathing directly in front of her.
She placed her palm on his chest again, sighing in satisfaction as she felt his warm skin. She slid her fingers over his nipple, smiling as she heard his intake of breath. Doing it again just because it brought both of them pleasure.
He grabbed hold of her wrists and drew her arms around his body, placing her hands at the small of his back.
This brought their bodies together, but because he was so much taller than she, they were face to chest instead of chest to chest. She rose up on her tiptoes and buried her nose into his neck, placing kisses on his skin as she slid her hands up and down his back.
Suddenly she felt him hoist her up so their mouths met again, and he was kissing her savagely, ruthlessly, and she loved every moment of it. His tongue possessing her mouth, his hands wrapped around her, his body holding her close.
Lower still, a certain part of him making its presence known. Feeling that pressure created a soft ache inside, a warm, prickly feeling dancing on her skin.
And then his hand was curled around her breast, his finger finding her nipple. He ran his palm over it and she gasped as the sensation flowed through her body.
“You like that,” he murmured against her mouth. It wasn’t a question.
“Mmm,” she replied, sliding her fingers from the small of his back to rest on his hipbones.
“Are you certain about this?” he asked, pressing forward there so it was clear what he meant.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, holding her breath as she put her hand right there, right where he was so large and firm and—and large.
“God, Olivia, you’re killing me,” he said, only he didn’t sound in pain.
“Oh?” she replied, rubbing her hand over him. He groaned, and then quickly picked her up, carrying her to the pile of bags in the corner, letting her down to lie against the coarse cloth.
Standing in front of her, his mixed expression showed desire, curiosity, and concern.
Still concerned, even though she was here and was a full participant in what they were doing.
His hands were at his waistband—they stilled as he waited.
“Go ahead,” she said, sitting up to reach to the hem of her shift, starting to pull it up her legs.
“No,” he replied, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I want to do that. Wait for me.”
He undid the placket of his trousers quickly, shucking the pants off his legs with remarkable speed, leaving him only in his smallclothes.
His male part stood proudly out from his body, seeming as though it was aimed right at her. She nearly giggled at how it looked, as though it were something he had stuck on himself at a right angle.
“Is something amusing?”
She began to shake her head no, then nodded. “It’s just so—so there,” she said, pointing to the object in question.
He grinned as his hand went there, grasping it and sliding his hand up and down, his gaze intent on her.
“Oh,” she said in a soft voice as she watched. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, his other hand sliding over his chest.
There was something so sensual about watching him, but she wanted to be the one to touch him.
“Weren’t you going to remove this?” she said as she plucked at the hem of her shift.
He immediately lowered himself beside her, his fingers on her skin, on the shift, lifting it up her body and over her head.
“I wanted to take my time doing that,” he said, his eyes traveling all over her body, “but I couldn’t wait. I’m too impatient.”
She swallowed and put her hands on his shoulders to bring his body alongside hers.
They lay facing one another, his member pressing against her belly, his gaze on her mouth.
“I want this, Edward,” she said in a soft voice as she slid her hands down his body to grip him as he had.
“Gladly,” he replied, releasing his hold of her to slide his smallclothes off so they were both naked, lying on the cloth bags in a darkened shed.
The rain had started, and there was a pleasant low hum from the drops falling on the roof.
It felt even more as though only they existed in the world. It was a precious, wonderful moment she never wanted to stop, even though she knew its end was inevitable.
But meanwhile, she could savor it. Savor him.
And this. All of this.