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Olivia felt shooting sparks of delight coursing through her body. His mouth left hers, travelling down her neck, and then she felt him take the nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping it.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, one hand clawing at the velvet upholstered carriage seat. She had never felt anything like it in her life before. It was as if she had died and gone to heaven. A heaven that she had never dreamt existed.
And now, it was as if she was turning to molten liquid beneath him. She felt a warm wetness, making her squirm in the seat. As he kept suckling, drawing the nipple ever deeper into his mouth, the wetness intensified. She was yearning for something she could not name. It was like a fever overtaking her entire body.
Suddenly, she became conscious of hardness pressing against her thigh. Her eyes widened in alarm. She had heard mention of this once—she had overheard two maids giggling about it. Olivia had grown wide eyed in shock when she heard one whisper to each other than a man grew turgid when he desired a woman. And here she was now, with Captain Fletcher’s manhood hard against her, the evidence of his desire for her quite pronounced.
And now, as he suckled her nipple, she felt him slide his hands up her legs, raising her gown. Her eyes, which had been closed in rapture, opened abruptly. The whole situation rushed at her as if she was seeing it through a tunnel. She was in a carriage parked outside a fashionable London townhouse with a man making passionate love to her. A man who was not her husband.
Anyone could pass by, peer through the carriage window, and see them. She simply could not believe that she had forgotten herself and let this happen. It was shocking. Her mother and her grandfather would be appalled by her behaviour. They might want her to marry the man, but they certainly did not want him ruining her reputation in the process.
She pushed him away, panting fiercely. He looked dazed, as if he had forgotten where they were, as well.
“You must leave,” she whispered furiously. “Now.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. I am sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I do not know what came over me.”
They stared at each other for a moment, both breathing raggedly, as if they had just been running. Olivia’s eyes slid away eventually. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably. Hastily, she straightened her gown, making sure her bodice was adjusted properly.
He was just about to open the carriage door and step out when he gazed back at her. His blue eyes were shining and warm.
“It was worth it,” he whispered, staring at her longingly.
Olivia could not reply. She felt like there was a lump in her throat.
“Go,” she whispered eventually.
And then, he was out the door, closing it behind him. Olivia leaned back against the wall of the carriage. Her mind was whirling. What had she just done? How could she have submitted to him like that? They did not even like each other. She did not understand herself at all. And she most certainly did not understand him.
***
Alexander walked hastily back into the townhouse. He bumped into someone, apologising quickly. He needed to find the Earl and see whether the gentleman who he wanted him to meet was here yet. He wanted it over and done with. He just wanted to leave the place.
The encounter with Olivia had thrown him sideways. He did not know what he had intended when he got into that carriage with her, but he had not planned on seducing her at the front door of this house, where anyone could have seen them passing by.
He was playing with fire and he knew it. But now, he realised that his attraction to her was stronger than his willpower. As soon as he was around her he wanted her so badly that all his reason started to slip away. And flirting with that other lady had not helped. Nor did seeing Petunia, who he could not even make love to anymore because of Olivia.
He did not understand it at all. She infuriated him most of the time. But he had to admit to himself that he admired her as well. She had such a feisty spirit—she was not like all the other society ladies he had met. They were all so demure, proper and -quite frankly—very dull. Olivia was a swift, fierce wind. It was simply impossible to be indifferent to her. And he did not think she was even aware of her innate sensuality and the effect it had on him.
Was he serious about her? Was it possible?
Immediately, he rejected the idea. Itcould notbe possible. He had safely guarded his heart for many years, ever since that disastrous time he had fallen head over heels when he had been too young to know any better. He had sworn after that he would never be so foolish again. He enjoyed women and knew he could not live without them, but he would never give his heart away. It had barely recovered from the first time it had been broken.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to remember. Her name had been Rosalie. She had golden hair as soft as silk, sparkling brown eyes and the most intoxicating laugh he had ever heard. He had been smitten with her from the first time he met her. And Rosalie seemed to be just as smitten with him. He had thought they would marry. That was until he discovered the beautiful but treacherous Rosalie in the arms of another man.
Around the same time, he decided to become a sailor and a trader. He wanted adventure but it had been about escape as well. At sea he managed to slowly forget her. It was another reason he did not stay home for too long in between his voyages. Being here reminded him of her and it was never pleasant. Much better to keep sailing the seas where it all just faded to oblivion.
But now, he had been compelled to linger. Now, he had met Olivia. Was it possible that against all the odds she may well be the woman who could heal his heart?
No. She despised him, even if she could not manage to fight their fierce mutual attraction any more than he could. She wanted to marry that insipid gentleman and lead a safe, conventional life. She had told him outright she did not want to marry him. Even if he tried to woo her, to compete with Lord Bertram, it would be destined to fail. So why bother?
Alexander suddenly felt like he was suffocating in this house. He did not like these people and he did not like this life. He needed to get back to work. He needed to leave London.
He knew a man who lived in Cornwall who he was thinking of trading with. He would go there for a few days and talk to him. Aunt Edwina would be fine here with Lucy. And it might just give him time to think about what his future held, once and for all. Whether this life—and the beautiful Lady Olivia—could be a part of his future or not.
