AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Olivia never liked men who spoke of themselves in the third person—she always believed they secretly thought themselves more important than anybody else, like royalty.
“Oh, I don’t mind a man with passion,” Olivia said airily.
“Neville has passion,” he rumbled. “He’s a firebrand of passion.”
She opened her mouth to give him a set-down, but Nic was too quick for her.
“Keep the devil out of this, Neville,” he said nastily. Sliding his arm around Olivia’s waist, he turned her and led her out of the crush.
“That was rude,” Olivia said reprovingly, although she was secretly delighted by his possessive attitude. She was enjoying herself very much, but it wouldn’t do to let Nic see that.
“You don’t know what rude is,” he snarled, tugging her toward a secluded alcove, where there was just space enough for a sofa and a potted fern on a plinth.
Nic untied a gold silk cord that was holding up a looped, red velvet curtain and let it fall, effectively creating a separate room. Inside, it was surprisingly private, while the noise from the ballroom beyond became a background hum.
“What possible reasons could you have for coming to a place like this?” he said in a voice that probably brought dread to the hearts of most people.
But not to Olivia. “The same reasons as you, I expect,” she said mildly, seating herself on the sofa and arranging her skirts.
He raised his eyebrows in mocking disbelief. “You’re looking for a lover for the night? I very much doubt—”
“Nic, I have a secret.” She lowered her voice, her heart beginning to beat faster. “I am not quite the angel you think me. I find myself drawn to excitement and to danger. I want to experience all that life has to offer. When you spoke of the demimonde ball, I knew I had to see it for myself. That is why I am here.”
He stared into her eyes as if trying to read the lies, and then his gaze dropped down to her neckline, and she recognized the sear of heat in their darkness. Olivia looked down, too, and saw that her bodice had slipped again, only this time her pink areolas were partially visible, and the hint of one nipple. In another moment she would be half naked before him.
That was when Olivia knew for certain that she was no respectable young lady.
Because she was looking forward to it.
Nic tasted the sweet tang of lust. It tightened his muscles and tendons, and jolted his body into readiness. If she was anyone else but Miss Olivia Monteith, he’d be kissing her by now, his hands busy freeing her from her bodice so that he could caress her until she begged for more.
But she wasn’t anyone else. She was Miss Olivia Monteith, and it was up to him to keep her safe from scoundrels and seducers like himself.
He closed his eyes with a groan, and when he opened them again found she had tugged up her dress to a more respectable level. Although—he swallowed—not by much. The swell of her breasts threatened to overflow again at any moment, and Nic was finding it difficult to breathe normally.
He tried to concentrate on her expression, and the words she had just spoken. I have a secret. Nic was certain she was playing games with him, but her smooth face and unflinching gaze made it difficult for him to tell her true feelings from her lies. Olivia Monteith addicted to danger and excitement? Olivia Monteith eager to experience life on the edge? Impossible! Girls like Olivia were made to be placed on a marble pedestal, far above the dirt and grime of ordinary life, where they could be an inspiration to lesser mortals.
“Should we be hiding in here, Nic?”
He frowned at her, forcing his wits to focus. “Hiding?”
“Well, I don’t think this can be the way things are done at functions like this. How will I ever meet any nice exciting men if I’m shut up in here with you glowering over me like a dog with a bone?”
Something inside him jolted, and an angry protest rose to his lips. Nice exciting men be damned! He bit it back. That was probably exactly what she wanted, to push him to the point of insisting he take her home. Then his evening would be ruined, as well as his visit to Paris, and she’d have him in her clutches once more.
“You are neither my relative nor my guardian,” Olivia was saying calmly, giving her bodice another upward tug. “You can’t stop me from doing as I please, and my pleasure is to enjoy myself.”
“Olivia, the men who come here are only concerned with finding a pliable woman to take to their beds. Don’t tell me that is what you want, because I won’t believe you.”
She laughed. “You must think me very simple not to know that, Nic. Of course they want to take me to bed, and—” she leaned closer again, bringing with her a heady waft of perfume—“I am more than willing to go. If I am to spend the remainder of my days with Mr. Garsed, I’ll need something very special to remember, to distract me from the boredom.”
He stared at her, openmouthed. She couldn’t possibly mean that. No, she was still trying to bamboozle him into saving her, like some knight in shining armor, no matter how much she had once protested to the contrary.
“You speak of the bedroom as if you know all about it,” he sneered. “You can’t convince me you are anything but an innocent, Olivia.”
“Well, I know a little,” she said thoughtfully. “You let me touch you, remember, so I know what a man can feel like. Of course I don’t know everything, but I am very keen to learn. Do you want to show me?” she added innocently. “So I don’t make a fool of myself? I’d hate to be laughed at in such experienced company.”
Yet again Nic found himself without anything to say. She wanted him to “show her” what to do? He knew in his black rake’s heart he wanted nothing more than to be her tutor in all things sensual, but instead he was clinging by his fin-gernails to his tattered gentleman’s honor. Just.
