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Tenderly he lifted her into his arms, and knew he had never felt like this before for any woman. He cradled her against his chest as he sat propped up at one end of the seat, his legs spread out along it, her own legs between them, her voluminous skirts covering them both. Vivianna was limp. She was momentarily beyond even speech, thought Oliver with a smile.
“You smell wonderful,” he said, and nuzzled her hair. And she did. Like no woman he had ever known before. She was unique. He knew he would recognize her blindfolded.
Vivianna chuckled and burrowed closer into his arms. He was content, he thought, just to hold her, but then her full breast brushed against him and he found himself cupping it, rolling the nipple in his fingers.
She stroked the back of his hand and made a sound in her throat. “Where are we going?”
“A place I know. We’re nearly there.”
He found her other breast, and now he was hard again, but this time he would have to wait. Oliver supposed that a gentleman would have waited for the first time, too, but she had been so hot, so ready, it had made more sense to make use of that eagerness. The losing of a woman’s virginity could be a painful business, so he had heard, and the less time she had to think about it, the better.
Besides—he smiled to himself—he was no gentleman, not tonight. Tonight, Oliver was the ultimate rake.
Vivianna had not known what to expect when they arrived at their destination, but the Anchor Inn, a remote and extremely selective establishment overlooking the Thames, was as discreet as it was sophisticated. She had no time to feel conscious of her dishevelment or embarrassed by her situation. A bowing gentleman and two maids took them immediately upstairs to their room, where food and drink was laid out, warm water and towels were quickly brought, and the door was then closed firmly behind them.
They were alone.
That was when the shyness and unease that Vivianna had felt when she first entered the coach returned to her. It was strange, she thought with a little shiver, but suddenly it was as if the hot, earthy love they had made was a dream. In the dim light, driving through the night, it had seemed safe, somehow. Now, here alone with Oliver, in the bright light of lamps and with a bed the size of India, Vivianna was very uncertain. She was even wondering whether she had made a rather dreadful mistake.
The fire in the grate was burning merrily. She went and held her hands to it, avoiding looking at him. The warmth helped a little, but the chill seemed to be inside her.
She did not hear him come up behind her, but when his hands rested upon her shoulders she jumped. Oh please, she thought, squeezing her eyes tight shut. Don’t pounce on me now. I don’t think I could play at being the courtesan again so soon. Whatever strength I found has vanished. Where are you, seductress? Where have you gone now I need you?
“You should take off your cloak,” he said matter-of-factly. He didn’t sound as if he was going to rip off her clothes and fling her onto the bed. Vivianna allowed him to unfasten the cloak and slide it from her shoulders. “That’s better,” he said softly, and stirred a memory of those same words, spoken by her once, when they were also alone together.
“What is this place?”
“The Anchor. It’s famous for assignations between people who don’t want it known they are lovers. These walls keep their secrets, and more importantly, so does the owner and his staff. Gloves.”
For a moment she didn’t understand him, and then she realized what he wanted and automatically held out her hands. He tugged off the gloves she had pulled back on before they exited the coach.
“I did not realize such places existed,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
He smiled, his handsome mouth curling upward, his eyes narrowing in that sleepy way that made her heart thud faster. “They’ve always existed,” he said. “Hairpins.”
Vivianna reached up and touched her braids. “Oh. I…”
“Never mind, I’ll do it.” He reached up and slipped out the pins, and her braids fell down her back. “Prince Albert wants to close places like the Anchor down,” he went on, as quickly he raked his fingers through her plaits, freeing the twists of hair, shaking it out into a thick chestnut curtain about her shoulders. “That’s better,” he whispered, and his eyes gleamed.
“Close them down?” Vivianna repeated nervously, glancing at him sideways. “Even Aphrodite’s Club?”
“Especially Aphrodite’s Club. Now your dress….” He was already unfastening the back, loosening the bodice. “He does not believe in immorality, and being a happily married man himself he does not think it necessary.”
“Can he do that? Close down Aphrodite’s? I do not like to think that Madame might be driven away from London.”
The dress slipped over her shoulders to her waist. She wasn’t wearing stays, but her chemise covered her adequately. “I think he would find that a great many of the court and the government are members of Aphrodite’s,” Oliver said wryly. “Petticoats.” She felt his fingers on the ties, and the dress and petticoats fell to the floor at her feet.
She was almost naked, Vivianna realized with surprise. He had stripped her after all, and she had been too involved in his conversation to really notice. But now the fire was warm against her bare arms and through the thin silk of her chemise. Only his hands were warmer. He knelt at her feet and, already having removed her slippers, had wrapped his fingers about her ankle. He looked up at her, his eyes very dark.
“Stockings,” he said quietly. Vivianna bit her lip as he ran his fingers up over the curve of her calf to her knee, and found the ribbon that kept her stocking from falling down. The bow undone, he drew the stocking down over her bare skin slowly, caressing her with his movements. She lifted her foot for him, her hand upon his shoulder for balance. He smiled, and then proceeded to remove the other stocking.
Vivianna found her breathing had quickened. Her skin was tingling with awareness, flushed from the fire’s heat. There was an ache in her breasts, and the place between her legs throbbed a little, so that she wanted to squeeze her thighs together.
“Now,” Oliver said, rising once more to his feet, “that leaves your chemise.”
“Oliver,” she gasped, “I don’t know if—”
“I want to see you naked,” he said implacably, and ran his hands down over her bare arms, smoothing her creamy flesh.
