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“Come with me.”
He grasped her hand once more and she eagerly followed him. She had just gathered her wrap and was about to depart when she paused. “Calliope…”
“She’s already gone.”
She gasped. “What?”
“I’ll explain everything later, I promise.”
Olivia nodded and allowed him to pull her behind him.
* * *
When they were outside,Miles ripped off his mask and tossed it aside, then Olivia was in his arms again. He held her close and allowed the moment to linger, but then he forced himself to break the embrace, because he had plans for the lady that offered more than a winter’s chill in the middle of Vauxhall. If it had been the height of the Season, he might have considered leading her down one of the secluded walkways, but even then, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him. A quick coupling would never do for Olivia Bevelstroke. He wanted to take his time and enjoy every inch of her, and he couldn’t do that here.
They climbed inside of his carriage, and he instructed the driver to take him to the Gravesend townhouse. He wanted to reach across the expanse and pull her to him, but he told himself that the anticipation in waiting was even sweeter.
Instead, he decided to tell her what he’d learned from Lord Rundale. The fact she had left with him willingly was enough to tell him everything he wanted to know. “You should know that your father hadn’t planned on a conventional marriage with Miss Stillwater, although he had purchased that sapphire ring and intended to make it appear so.”
She frowned lightly. “But why hide it from all of us?”
“He knew he would be alone someday, that all of his daughters would be out of the house, and so he intended to acquire female companionship, but not in the manner you might believe. His arrangement with Miss Stillwater would make her the next Duchess of Marlington in the eyes of the law, but your father only intended to ensure she had the proper care that the viscount could not afford.” He allowed that to sink in and then he added, “Lord Rundale’s daughter suffers from delusions that will only grow worse over time. He wished to spare her the cruel future of an asylum, so I have ensured that her care will be provided for at the York Retreat. The viscount has a hunting box in York and has decided to retire there permanently with his family.”
Olivia’s expression was solemn. “Father was always concerned about our tenants when the harvest wasn’t profitable. He didn’t care that the estate might lose funds, only that they might make it through the winter, so it doesn’t surprise me that he would try to assist Miss Stillwater in the only way he could.” She sighed. “I just wish he didn’t feel that we would abandon him. I should never have dreamed of doing so. In truth, if he were still alive, I would have never left Marlington Hall.”
“I’m glad that you did,” Miles admitted, as he reached out and stroked a gentle thumb over her cheek. “Or else I might have never met you.”
Olivia laughed humorlessly. “I nearly drowned in the Thames. I’m not sure that would actually qualify as a proper introduction.”
“It was enough for me,” Miles returned firmly. He gave in to the urge to draw her onto his lap. “Becauseyouare enough.” His eyes searched hers. “For years I wandered along without knowing why my life had been spared when so many others close to me had perished. I never understood the reasons—until that day. You are my life, Olivia. The very reason I breathe and why I am still on this earth.”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she sniffed. “I never thought that anyone could ever mean as much to me as my father and my sisters, but I knew from that night you rescued me in the midst of that snowstorm that you would be different. I didn’t feel the cold with you beside me.”
He brought her against him and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent that was wholly… hers. It was feminine and intoxicating, and nothing else could compare.
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Miles released her only long enough to step down to the cobblestones. But she hadn’t yet reached the ground when her swept her into his arms. “No future duchess of mine shall dare to even sully her shoes when I am around to provide for her every need.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled almost wickedly. “I look forward to learning all of your other talents, Your Grace.”
His cock stirred restlessly in his trousers as he headed up the steps to the Gravesend townhouse. The butler opened it before they were even at the top, and Miles didn’t look at him, but kept his focus completely on the woman in his arms. “I shall not require your services any further this evening. You and the rest of the servants may retire.”
He bowed respectfully. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
The door shut behind him, but Miles ignored everything around him. His sole purpose was reaching his bedchamber and loving Olivia all night long.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Olivia’s pulse was racing, her heartbeat a steady staccato as Miles carried her upstairs and all the way to his room. She was able to take note of the soft fire burning in the hearth, and the massive, mahogany four-poster that dominated the center of the room, before he was kissing her as if he had been denied her essence for too long. He was a starved man in the desert, and the single thing he craved was her.
She was equally enthusiastic about his attentions, because when he set her on her feet, she wasted no time in trying to push his jacket off his shoulders, the urgency to finally see him in all his naked glory, as she’d only dreamed about, driving her to ignore any maidenly concerns she might have otherwise had. Even the doubts she’d harbored about sharing a bed with a man, where there was the possibility of becoming with child, were forgotten. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, and her love for Miles.
She had yearned to express those deepest of emotions, but something was still holding her back, something still just beyond her reach. But perhaps this night would shatter any of those lasting reservations, where she could finally allow the woman beneath that exterior shell to truly be free.
Once she succeeded in removing his jacket, she began to work on his cravat. The knot loosened easily enough, and she carelessly tossed the strip of material aside. She undid the buttons of his waistcoat, and then pulled his shirt out of his trousers where—at long last—she was able to feel that warm skin beneath her palms. She had only been offered a glimpse of him when they had been in forced proximity at the Gillingham inn, when things had been so awkward and stilted between them. Now she allowed her hands to roam at will, confident of their attraction for one another.
Their breaths mingled, heavy and yearning with desire as she removed the linen from his upper body. She paused when she saw the scar around his throat. She gently traced the white line with her finger, and then dared to lift up on her tiptoes and run the tip of her tongue along the same path.
He tilted his head back and groaned her name, as one hand clutched her waist and the other delved into her hair. Pins scattered as the locks came tumbling down around her shoulders. But this moment wasn’t as much about passion, as it was about healing. The past was gone, a distant haze of memory, but she wanted him to know that she was his future, and the scars he carried with him, both inside and out, no longer held any power over him.
