Page 38 of The Duke of Pain

In Gideon’s past, no one had ever offered support and affection.

Could he take a chance with a woman he had just met?

Perhaps, it was time to try.

Enough wallowing in self-doubt and pity.

First order of business, sober up.

Next, back to Hyde Park Corner and talk to Liv—if she hadn’t fled.

Chapter 11

Olivia sat in the quiet parlor for several hours. The clock ticked the minutes away from its perch on the fireplace mantel. Sitting next to her on the table was the letter she’d written to James. The footman hadn’t delivered as it yet. Olivia had doubts about sending it.

The anger she’d felt earlier that morning had turned into crushing disappointment. Her opinion of men was decidedly low before. The one time she tossed common sense to the wind and took a chance on a man, he’d let her down.

The door slammed, and men’s voices filled the front hall. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Gideon?

Her hopeful thoughts were wrapped in anticipation of seeing him again.

Pathetic woman.

Olivia placed her hands primly in her lap and fought to keep her face impassive.

Gideon stepped into the room, his gaze intense. He slammed the door behind him.

A sharp breath caught in her throat. The duke looked wild and beautiful and appeared not to be in total control. His obsidian eyes glittered with all manner of emotions. Did she glimpse regret, desire, and doubt?

Her gaze roamed over his six-foot-one-inch length. His suit coat was unbuttoned, and his neckcloth askew. Dark whiskers were visible on his impossibly handsome face. His raven black hair was tousled from the wind, or his hand had roved through his locks.

Gideon strode toward her and dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Forgive me?” his deep voice quavered.

Under closer scrutiny, she could see his eyes were bloodshot with visible dark circles. He had not slept, and he’d been drinking. The odor of stale cigar smoke and strong spirits mixed with his own alluring scent.

Olivia cupped his face. The rough feel of his whiskers tickled her fingers.

“Where did you go? Why did you leave me?” she asked, her voice gentle.

He leaned into her touch. “I went to my club on Albany Street. I had no idea what to do. I needed time to think—and drink.”

“Why?” she asked softly.

“There are so many things I want.”

Her thumbs stroked his cheeks. “Like what?”

He met her inquiring gaze. “I want to throw your legs over my shoulders, spread you wide, and lick and taste you until you scream. But most of all, I want to make passionate love to you. Kiss and caress every inch of your skin. Hold you in my arms all night. Long, slow, agonizing strokes until we cannot bear it any longer. How could I ask this of you? Your past precludes any possibility of sex.”

Olivia sighed. “Gideon. I was violated by two disgusting men then abandoned by my father. Left alone in the streets without coin or a roof over my head. I survived. I came with you because I trust you, as much as I am able to trust. I can’t explain why. We only just met, but I do. You said we would share it all. Please, let us try.”

He stood. The kiss he gave her was poignant but also untamed and passionate.

Olivia gasped as he scooped her up in his arms.