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One arm came about her waist and with his other hand he cupped her jaw, holding her face still for his examination. His eyes were so close to hers it was like drowning in the deepest part of the ocean.
“Oh yes, there is passion in you,” he murmured. “It spills from your soul and makes sparks in your eyes and brings color to your cheeks. I can taste it”—he kissed her again—“on your lips. I would like to have you, Miss Greentree, all of you. I want to be the first to make you feel the hunger that lovemaking can bring—and I think I would be the first.”
She pushed her hands against his chest, but there was no movement. She had the mad notion that he meant to ravish her right here in his library, and she would put up no resistance. Because, in her secret heart, she wanted him to.
His mouth pressed to hers, his warm breath mingling with her own. His kiss deepened, and she tasted him, and the fire of desire caught light inside her. Was this the hunger he had spoken of? Because already she felt famished. Vivianna’s hands slid over his shoulders and clung there. Her eyes were closed, too heavy to open, but that only added to the experience, for now touch and feel, smell and hearing, were everything. The texture of his fine jacket, the moist heat of his mouth, the clean scent of his skin, the beat of his heart against her body, heavy and hard.
He pressed his thigh between hers, crushing her petticoats and skirts, until she could feel him through the layers of cloth. Intimate. He bent his head and kissed her, little nibbling kisses, down her throat. She arched her neck and tried to breathe, clinging to his shoulders as if she would spin away if she let go. He held her firm, one arm about her narrow waist, and pressed his face to her bosom, his breath hot through her wool dress and boned corset and linen chemise. Her skin was afire.
“You are wrapped up like a gift,” he said, and when she forced her lids to open, his face was in front of hers again, his eyes blazing. “Hooks and buttons and laces.”
She could hardly breathe; her voice was shaky. “There is safety in hooks and buttons and laces. There is time for ardor to turn to good sense.”
His hand molded to her breast. “I can feel your stays,” he said, “but I can feel you, too.”
“I can feel you,” she managed. And she could feel the warmth and the gentle strength of his hand.
“I want to put my mouth on you. Have you ever had a man’s mouth on your breast?”
“No!” she gasped in protest, but already the image of it was sending tremors of delight through her, almost too much to bear.
He bowed his head, as if he, too, were struggling with control. And then, with a groan, he kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth, and she found it was a simple matter to return the favor, to feel him and explore him and want him…good Lord, she wanted him….
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He knew how to make her want him, and in a moment she would be beyond thought or control. The plain fact was he was experienced and she was an innocent. If she did not learn better, she would never be able to do as she willed with him. He would use her and discard her.
Vivianna would not save the shelter; she would not even be able to save herself.
It took all her effort to pull away, to put distance between them. When all she wanted to do was sink back into his embrace.
He looked as beyond thought as her, but even as she stood, trying to breathe, watching him, his eyes regained their cool composure, his mouth its lazy smile.
“Should I apologize?” he asked her. “I did warn you.”
Vivianna pushed at her hair, found it loose and tangled about her shoulders. “Yes, you did,” she said. Her voice was growing stronger and calmer, as gradually the turmoil inside her ebbed. She picked up her hat from the sofa and, tucking her hair beneath it, tied it firmly under her chin. Probably not as neat as when she had set out, but it would do.
“Vivianna,” he said, and there was that note in his voice again, half pleading and half demand. She felt her own treacherous senses respond and did the only thing she could. Reached out to the bellpull, and gave it a sharp tug.
“Go on. Run away,” he mocked. “Go back to Yorkshire. That’s the only way you’ll escape me now. You’d be wise to heed the warning.”
“You’re trying to frighten me into leaving,” she said firmly.
He laughed angrily. “I wish I could.”
The door opened and Hodge stood there, his servant’s face without expression. Vivianna moved toward him. From somewhere she found a normal voice, and used it.
“Thank you for seeing me, Lord Montegomery. I hope you will consider what I have said.”
The outer door closed on Hodge’s disapproving face, and Vivianna went down the steps feeling as if she had been buffeted by a great wind. Except that the storm was inside her.
Her aunt’s coach was waiting, and Vivianna climbed within. It was then that her body seemed to collapse, and she gave a soft groan of relief. But as she drove out of Berkeley Square, Vivianna had to fight to stop herself from turning around, to not give in to the urge to go right back to him.
To Oliver.
It was then that the plan unfolded before her, the audacious plan that had been formulating in her head ever since her visit to Aphrodite’s. All this time she had been pushing it away, telling herself logic and good sense were enough, and all the time the solution to her problem was right there, waiting for her to catch its eye. Vivianna needed to save the shelter by persuading Oliver to change his mind, but she could not bully him—Madame had been right. Madame had also been right when she said that Oliver found her amusing and refreshing.
His tastes are jaded and he is looking for something new and different. Play upon that, if you dare. If you are skillful enough you can achieve your aim.
In short, he wanted her, sexually. It was true; he had told her so on numerous occasions. Oh yes, partially it had been an attempt to send her wailing back to Yorkshire—Vivianna may be innocent, but she was not a fool—but the way in which he had kissed her, touched her, looked at her showed he had not been playacting all of the time. Oliver Montegomery lusted after her. She was in possession of something he very much wanted—her body.
