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“Yes!” She smiled, relieved he knew what she was talking about.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. Oliver swallowed and shifted in his seat. “Vivianna, as much as I am enjoying talking with you about connection, I think we have strayed from the point.”
“Oh, of course.” She flushed. “W-what happened then, when Anthony came into the room?”
“He just stood there. Celia started to scream, saying she didn’t love him. The inference being, I suppose, that she loved me. I sat down and started to laugh. I was drunk and it was all so absurd—like this opera. Anthony turned around and left. The next time I saw him…”
“He was dead.”
“Yes. I tried to persuade her to marry me, you know. Do the right thing. She wouldn’t. Didn’t want me. It was all a game to get out from under her father’s thumb. I can’t blame her, I suppose. I don’t blame her; I blame myself.”
Vivianna felt her heart swell with compassion for him, and relief that after all he had not been so very bad. “It’s not so terrible,” she said gently. “You were foolish, but the scene was not engineered by you. Probably, in time, your brother would have forgiven you, and you would have been friends again. You should not think he hates you from beyond the grave—I do not believe the dead would hate the living for one simple mistake. Surely they are past such petty concerns.”
Anthony’s death had destroyed all chance of a reconciliation between the brothers. It was no wonder Oliver spent his days and nights trying to forget. And yet what was it he had said in the coach? I hope to avenge my brother, Vivianna, not placate his restless spirit. Avenge him in what way? By hurting Celia? Vivianna did not believe it. There must be something else….
She turned to ask him further questions, but he was smiling at her, his gaze sliding over her face like a caress, and the words flew from her head.
“You are a very unusual woman, Miss Vivianna Greentree.”
“Is that a compliment?” she asked frankly.
“Oh yes.” He nodded slowly. “You’ve forced me to reveal something to you that I had not intended to, and I actually feel a sense of relief. Are you my confessor now, Vivianna? I warn you, you would not like to listen to all my sins.”
“Are they very numerous?”
“Very.”
Vivianna sensed the return of desire between them. The heavy liquid weight of her limbs, the lazy thud of her heart, the tingling tightness of her skin.
His lips brushed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes. The opera continued, but Vivianna neither saw nor heard the agonies of Adina and Nemorino. Her own feelings filled her to bursting, and at last, with a soft groan of surrender, she lifted her face to his.
His mouth was hot, barely controlled.
A mistake, she told herself. This is a mistake. Everyone will see…
Evidently he knew it, too. In the time it took Rubini to draw breath for his next note, Oliver had propelled her to her feet and back, into the shadows to a small anteroom, offering privacy and hiding them from the eyes of the audience. Oliver had earlier explained the anteroom had been built at Lady Marsh’s request, because she often had to recline when the pain was too great, and she did not wish people to see her.
Tonight it hid Oliver and Vivianna, and she was in his arms.
“I’ve thought of this for days.” He kissed her face, and then his mouth was against her throat as she arched it for his pleasure. She could feel his chest to hers, the frill on his shirt tickling her skin, and only the width of her skirts defeated her ability to feel his legs and his hips.
Protect your heart.
That was all very well, but what about this burning, aching need? How did she protect herself from that and at the same time use it to her advantage?
His hands stroked over her ribs, and upward, to cup her breasts through her stays and chemise and the silk of her bodice. The feel of his palms on them, even through so many layers of cloth, reminded her of his fingers against her bare flesh, and Vivianna moaned aloud.
He covered her mouth with his, and he reached back, his fingers working on the hooks that held the back of her bodice together. A tug, the lined silk bodice loosened, and in a moment he had drawn it down. He lifted aside the soft cup of her stays and the thin chemise, and bared her breast. Her nipple was already puckered against the dark aureole, and Vivianna gasped and touched herself in wonder.
“It is as if I am ready for you,” she murmured. “Wanting you to kiss me there.”
Oliver groaned at her words, and then he stroked her, covering both her hand and her breast with his own hand.
Vivianna gasped at the warmth of his palm, and then his mouth was on hers. He was rolling the stiff peak of her breast between his fingers, tugging gently at the nipple in a manner that made her want to scream at him. Not to stop, though, never that. But the sensation jolted her right down to her toes, though mainly it was in the place between her legs. She ached for him, and pressed her thighs hard together to try and ease it.
“Beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. He stroked her again, and then he stooped and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently upon it. Beyond them, out in the theater, applause erupted, and laughter as something upon the stage caught the audience’s attention.
Vivianna was oblivious to everything but Oliver.
