Be bold. Do what needs to be done.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Being Reckless
Dinner the following evening had been excruciating. Edward had been able to occupy himself during the day, taking Chrysanthemum out for a long ride and then going through some papers he’d been avoiding, but now he was seated at dinner with all of the guests, including her.
He wanted to get up and just leave, but it would hurt his father and ensure the duchess thought he was even less of a gentleman than she probably already thought.
He’d almost gone to Olivia at least a dozen times that day, but he’d said a few cutting things, and she’d just left—he didn’t know what else she might have to say. He would find out, eventually, but at the moment he needed to calm himself down before he approached her.
She and Bennett were seated together at the far end of the table, and he couldn’t avoid hearing the very pointed comments the duchess was making.
“You two look so wonderful together. Almost as though you were a married couple!”
Things like that.
He’d seen the pained expressions on everybody else’s faces, including Bennett’s and Olivia’s, to indicate they too were having an excruciating experience. So at least there was camaraderie in their misery.
“Mother,” Lady Ida said in a reproving voice. “Olivia and Lord Carson are friends.” And then she’d looked over at him and he could have sworn she winked.
It must have been a trick of the light.
“Such dear friends, yes,” the duchess said in a pleased voice. Missing Lady Ida’s point entirely.
“Mr. Beechcroft, I was wondering if you would allow me to go for a ride tomorrow?” Lady Pearl said in a hurried tone, clearly trying to steer the conversation in another direction. “I have not had much opportunity for exercise, and I believe it will be a lovely day.”
Mr. Beechcroft nodded at Edward. “You’ll have to ask my son—he is the horse expert in the family. I like them for my carriages, but I gave up riding long ago.”
“Of course, Lady Pearl,” Edward said. “I would be happy to.”
He caught Olivia looking at him, and his chest tightened. He would have to find a chance to speak with her sooner rather than later. He might not like what she would have to say, but he needed to hear her say it.
There was no opportunity that evening, however, which was why Edward found himself in his bedroom, alone except for Scamp, the kitten who’d taken to him, hiding out in his bedroom during the day and sleeping with him at night.
“What do you think, Scamp?” Edward said, leaning back on his bed and allowing the kitten to jump onto his chest. “When should I speak with her? They’ll only be here for another week or so.” The thought of spending more days in the same house with her without knowing how she felt, or what she felt, was an agonizing thought.
Scamp, however, had no reply.
Instead, the kitten began to knead Edward’s chest, tiny claws going through the fabric of his banyan.
He was chuckling when he heard the knock on the door.
It was after ten o’clock—everyone should be in bed by now. So of course it had to be her.
He removed Scamp from his chest, placing the kitten on the bed and swinging his legs over to the ground, striding to the door in a few quick steps.
“Hello,” she said as he opened the door.
He took her arm to bring her inside, shutting the door softly behind her. She wore a night rail and a robe, her bare feet peeking out from under the bottom edge, and her hair was undone.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, tucking the edges of his banyan together. He was nude underneath the robe. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” he added hastily.
“Are you?” she asked, sounding hesitant. So unlike the usual Olivia he froze for a moment.
“I am. I think.” And he paused, sweeping his hair off his face in an effort to gather his thoughts. “I think we should sit down.” Of course the only place for both of them to sit was on his bed.
“Yes, we should,” she replied, walking over to get onto the covers. Apparently not hesitant at all when it came to that.
“I wanted to say something,” he said, but she reached forward and put her hand to his mouth.
Her fingers were warm.
Scamp brushed past him to leap onto the floor and tuck into his slipper, gnawing on the edge.
“I have something to say first.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “I wanted to say that what I said yesterday was all wrong.” She shook her head, and several strands of hair fell forward. He resisted the urge to smooth them back. If he touched her, he didn’t know what might happen. Or he did, and he didn’t know if that was what should happen. He needed to wait for her to talk, for them to have a conversation, before either one of them did anything they would regret.
“What would you have said if you could say it all over again?” he asked.
She raised her chin and looked directly into his face. The candlelight caught the gold glints in her eyes and the curve of her lips.
“I should have started out with the most important thing.” She hesitated, and he caught his breath, wondering what she was about to say.
“Which is—?” he prompted.
“Which is I love you.” He opened his mouth in shock as she continued speaking. “And I know you don’t love me, and I know that you might believe that I am lowering myself to want to be with you, but if anything, I want to rise to your level.” She swallowed, and Edward’s throat tightened. She loved him? And she thought he didn’t love her?
“I admire your resilience and your determination to be in this world on your terms, not to cow to anyone because of your birth.” Her eyes sparkled with the force of her emotions. “You know who you are, you know what you can do, and you don’t let anyone stop you. Not Society, not people like my parents.” A pause. “Not me.”
He leaned forward and swept her up in his arms, placing her on his lap. She was warm and soft, and he couldn’t get distracted by that, not when he had to make sure they understood one another.
“I love you too.” Her eyes widened, and he heard her draw her breath in sharply. “I was angry because I thought you just wanted me for what you thought you could accomplish with my wealth. Like you wanted to with Bennett, back when you first proposed.” He pressed a kiss on her brow. “Plus your timing was terrible, given what had just happened between us.”
She grimaced. “Yes, I don’t always think before I speak,” she said.
“I would say you never think before you speak.” He laughed as her embarrassed expression turned outraged. “Not that I want you to ever stop. I love you, I love how you rush into things without wondering how you’ll look, and I love your determination, your forcefulness when you see inequality. Whether it’s for ducks or bastards,” he finished, grinning.
She swatted him on the arm, but she was still here, still very much in his lap, a smile on her mouth.
“You love me?” she said, looking up at him.
“I do,” he replied.
“Then let’s do something about that,” she replied, a wicked look on her face.
Olivia straddled him, catching his jaw in her hands, lowering her mouth to his.
He loved her. She loved him.
She kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around her body, holding her close against his chest. She ran her hand through his curls, down his neck and underneath the fabric of his dressing gown.
She made a noise in her throat as she realized he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“What?” he said, moving his mouth to her neck. He sucked her skin into his mouth, then licked the tender spot, making her shiver.
“You’re not wearing any clothing,” she said, sliding the fabric off his shoulders.
“Well, I was, but then you took it off me,” he said, smiling as he shrugged out of the garment.
She leaned back to take the view in. His chest was golden in the candlelight, whorls of hair lightly covering his muscles. She placed her palm on his nipple, making his stomach muscles contract.
That was fun. She drew her fingernails over the nipple, and he hissed, encircling her wrist with his fingers.
“You don’t want me to touch you there?” she asked.
“I do,” he replied, his voice low and growly, making her shiver all over again. “But there are other places I want you to touch me.” And he brought her hand down, skating it over his skin, to his—
“What do you call it?” she asked as she curled her fingers around him.
“My cock,” he replied, his eyes shut. “Stroke my cock, Olivia.” She began to move her hand up and down, and he made a groan deep in his throat. “Yes, just like that.”
She felt so powerful—sitting astride him, feeling how he twitched and throbbed under her fingers. Watching his intense expression as she stroked him, feeling how there, where he’d touched her, was feeling sensitive.
“What do you call what I have?” she asked, shifting off him and lying down on the bed, her hand still on his cock.
He lay down beside her, facing her, his hand going to her neck, her collarbone, curling over her breast, and then yanking the fabric of her night rail up and putting his fingers on her bare skin.
Moving them up . . . and she caught her lip in her teeth, his gaze on her mouth, his hand moving up and up until—
“It’s your quim,” he said as his fingers caressed her there. Right at her quim. “Or cunny, or if you’re being fanciful, your daisy.”
“Oh, my daisy. I like that one.”
“I like your daisy very much.” And then his fingers slid inside her, and she forgot all about words, or where she was, or anything but what he was doing to her. How he was making her feel.
And then he was kissing her again, his cock—his cock!—nudging at her belly, his tongue thrust deep in her mouth.
She had one hand still on him, on his cock, while the other was tangled in his curls, holding his face close to hers.
“Need to see you,” he said hoarsely, reaching down to her night rail and pulling it up, up over her head.
Which would have been fine except that she still wore something on top of it, so all the fabric was a mad tangle between them.
“Hold on,” she said, tugging at the sleeves. And then starting to laugh at the absurdity of it—him naked beside her, her with her clothing entirely disarranged, them doing this.
He helped her with the removal, then tossed everything toward the end of the bed.
And then they heard a noise, and both looked down, and Scamp was leaping up, a piece of Olivia’s night rail in her mouth, and they watched as she dragged it down off the bed.
She heard him chuckle, and she began to laugh again too. How was it possible that this—which she had heard was very serious and possibly unpleasant—could be so much fun?
It must be because it was he. Entirely due to him.
“Now that you are naked to my satisfaction,” he said, “let us resume.”
“I want you to ruin me,” she said. “If I am totally and completely ruined, I won’t have to marry anybody but you.”
“So it’s my duty to ruin you?” he said, raising his eyebrow.
“Absolutely,” she said, taking his cock in her hand again.
“Well, I suppose this proposal is more enticing than the last one,” he replied, his eyes traveling lazily down her body, making her acutely conscious of how exposed she was.
“You’re lovely,” he said in a low voice, his fingers caressing her breast. He rubbed her nipple, then leaned forward and took it in his mouth, making her gasp.
His other hand had returned to her daisy, and was stroking her, building a heat within that was making her squirm.
His tongue swirled on her skin, and she felt the familiar tension—familiar because he’d done whatever magic he’d done only the previous day—rise, the feeling building and building until she—
“Don’t come yet,” he muttered, raising his head from her breast. He edged down her body, kissing her belly, lower. She held her breath, wondering if . . .
“Oh my God,” she said as he buried his mouth on her there. Licking her with his tongue as his fingers continued to move, the sensation as intense and fierce as anything she’d ever felt before.
It was decadent, and so erotic, and she gripped her hands in his hair, moving her head on his pillow, biting her lip as the tension increased.
Until—“Aah,” she cried out, arching her back as the feeling washed over her.
“That’s what I wanted to see again. Your orgasm.” He drew up beside her to kiss her. She could taste herself on his mouth.
“That was—that was,” she said, not able to finish.
He chuckled, then took her hand and put it back on his cock. It was hard and throbbing, and she swallowed nervously as she thought about what was next.
“Relax,” he said, shifting so she could feel him there, right at her entrance. Her daisy. “You’re all ready for me, and I’ll stop if it hurts.”
“I love you,” she said, twisting so she was lying back on the bed.
“I love you too,” he said, starting to guide himself into her.
Edward hadn’t expected to end the evening with this—a naked Olivia in his bed asking him to ruin her—but he wasn’t going to deny it was the best evening of his life.
Tomorrow they’d deal with the messy repercussions, but for right now it was just them.
She was wet, but still tight, and he went slowly, gritting his teeth as he moved.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hearing how strained his voice was.
“Mmm,” she said, her eyes wide. “I want this. I want you.”
And then he slid all the way inside, grunting as his hips pressed against hers.
“Oh my.” She sounded breathless, and intrigued. Her hands went to his arse and gripped him as he started to move.
He pushed up on his elbows so he could look down at her face as he thrust, his rhythm increasing as the orgasm built.
She kept her eyes open, her gaze steady on him, and he felt the swell of his heart as he watched her expression.
He was so close, so close, and he kept increasing his speed, pushing in and out of her, hearing the slap of their flesh with each thrust.
Until he felt the moment peak, and he climaxed with a roar as he stiffened, the rush of it flooding his body with sharp satisfaction.
He collapsed on top of her, and he felt her laugh as he buried his nose in her neck.
“You have most definitely ruined me, Mr. Wolcott,” she said in an amused tone. “I should leave, though. I don’t want to—” And then she began to laugh again.
“Cause a scandal?” he finished. “Because that is the whole point of this, isn’t it?”
She nodded, bumping his head with her chin, and he laughed, feeling as relaxed and comfortable as he’d ever felt.
He didn’t feel as though he didn’t belong. He definitely belonged here, with her, and it didn’t matter who he was or what people thought of him. It only mattered what she thought of him, and she loved him.
That was more than enough.
He rolled off her, startling Scamp who’d climbed up on the bed. She leapt back down with a yowl, and Edward drew the covers up, urging Olivia to get underneath, then scooting beside her and tucking the covers around both of them.
“You can leave early in the morning,” he said. “Nobody will be up to see you, and then we can both be presentable when you announce your intention of marrying me.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she replied in a sleepy voice. She curled against his side, and he wrapped his arm around her, feeling her warm, soft curves pressed into his body.