“Forgive me,” he murmured as he hurried to open a discreet panel set in the wall and revealed the closet, shaking off the disconcerting confusion gripping him.
Beth hurried inside the six-foot-square room, smiling happily at the contents surrounding her. Candelabras, silver platters, and crystal wineglasses filled every conceivable space. She clutched his arm and bounced on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I never would have found this. I doubt anyone here now even knows this room exists. The contents of this room fill several other needs on my list, as well. Thank you.”
He smiled down at her, wondering why her joy in such a discovery moved him. “There are many such places concealed about the abbey.”
“Like the Duke’s Sanctuary?”
Her question ended his pleasure in the day. He crossed his arms over his chest. “The sanctuary is gone.”
Her brow rose as she stepped closer, hands sliding over his folded arms in a soft, beguiling caress. “It’s not like you to give up so easily.”
Oliver’s heart raced. Had George said something about the model, after all? If so, he was deeply disappointed in the boy. He’d have to answer Elizabeth carefully lest she become even more interested in the subject. It was better that she knew nothing and if she persisted with the topic, he’d distract her until she forgot all about the treasure hidden beneath their feet. “There’s nothing to be found.”
Her smile fell away. “I suppose there is a good reason you’ve not disclosed the location for the second entrance.”
Her observation surprised him even as he captured her hips and dragged her flush against him, marveling in the pleasure of being able to do so. Yet his unease remained. “What makes you think there is another way down?”
“In this place?” Elizabeth laughed, lifting her hand to gesture at the room around them. “If there wasn’t one I’d be highly surprised. I can probably guess why you chose to say nothing. There’s been enough trouble in the past without confiding in someone who isn’t a Randall. Keep your secrets, Oliver. I’m not the one you should share them with, anyway.”
She left his arms and faced the shelves behind her, rummaging through a heap of tarnished silverware. Damn but she was a clever woman. She knew him, saw through his lies, faster than he’d anticipated. He moved behind her and slid his arms about her waist, pulling her against him tightly.
A soft sigh left her mouth as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Oliver inhaled deeply of her scent and slid his hands over her gown to cup her breasts, wishing he could feel her nipples hardening. But she was properly dressed; corset and layers of warm wool covered her body. He moved his hand down to her hips and then lower still, splaying them over her upper thighs, delighting when her breath hitched at his caress. He slowly inched her gown higher. What he wanted was her bare skin and warmth against his fingers.
“Ollie, the door,” she whispered suddenly.
Oliver quickly took care of their privacy and spun Elizabeth so she could lean against the wall. He fell to his knees, raised her skirts again, skimmed the stockings encasing her slim legs with his hands, and pressed a kiss to every patch of bare skin he could reach. With her fingers tangling in his hair, offering encouragement, he dared kiss higher. Her thighs trembled as he urged them to part and pressed a fervent kiss to her curls. Frustrated by the awkwardness of her position, he eased one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her stance and revealing everything he needed right now. Oliver dipped his head, hungry for the taste of her.
He teased her mercilessly, licking her lower lips with long strokes of his tongue, delighted by her soft moans and how her nails dug into his scalp, keeping him exactly where he wanted to be. She came quickly. A choked cry muffled by her hand. When her tremors had ceased, he rose, freed himself, and slid inside her welcoming warmth with a sigh of relief. He’d needed her all day.
He shifted Elizabeth until she was completely off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist, arms twining about his neck. He moved within her, recklessly
pumping his hips with no thought for the next moments or the future. God, she felt good about him. Her passion inspired him to increase his own.
Her lips caressed his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He turned his head and claimed those wandering lips, stifling his own satisfied sigh as her tongue skimmed his.
He propped her back against the wall and placed his hands to either side of her head. He wanted to see her expression as he filled her with each slow thrust. There was nothing like her passion in his experience and he couldn’t get enough.
She bit her lip as his thrusts slowed. Their eyes met. “Good?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered and then closed her eyes. Oliver shifted until he held her hips in his hands and slowed his pace even further, prolonging the pleasure and holding off his own release. He wanted Elizabeth to come once more before he did. He wanted to see the expression he’d missed when he’d been kneeling at her feet.
He released her hip and tangled his fingers in her curls. She moaned, a soft complaint that had no real substance, and opened her eyes. Her slit was damp and her clitoris swollen. He rubbed his fingers against the needy flesh. Elizabeth’s back arched as she pushed onto his cock, burying him inside her unexpectedly.
The added friction sent a surge of lust straight to his groin. He surged into her and retreated, each time a little faster and harder than the last. His hand became wedged between them, fingers pressed to her clitoris and unable to move. Elizabeth didn’t seem to mind. Her hands clutched at his waistcoat, pulling him deeper with each thrust. When she tightened around his cock, coming with a quiet sob, Oliver lost all control. He slammed into her, roughly holding her against the wall as he took her body fast and hard. Elizabeth met his gaze with sated languor, a soft smile spreading over her lips at his aggression.
That smile brought pleasure within reach. His balls tightened, his loins throbbed and, at the very last moment, he wrenched himself free of Elizabeth’s clinging arms and legs as he came. He struggled to catch his breath, fighting the need to plunge back inside her once more. Instead, he dropped his head to her shoulder and kept her body at a distance. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Her immediate answer brought relief. He couldn’t bear to have been too rough, but there were moments with Elizabeth when he couldn’t get close enough. When it had happened last night, he’d had the option of rolling away for a moment. But in a closet, standing, there was nowhere else to go but remain in Elizabeth’s arms.
It wasn’t a bad place to be, but it was dangerous to both of their futures.
He drew in a deep breath and collected his absent wits. “We had better go soon.”
Elizabeth grumbled against his shoulder but then moved out of his arms quickly, leaving him cold and abandoned. She quickly straightened her gown, running her hands over her body to see what had been disturbed by his lovemaking. She wasn’t too badly mussed and Oliver considered whether he could be a touch more demanding the next time. He had a feeling Elizabeth wouldn’t object and that made him long for the evening to come quickly. He would make love to her again. He had to.
Elizabeth faced him, her expression amused. “Get dressed.”
Oliver glanced down and, embarrassed that he had been standing there with his trousers at half-mast all this time, daydreaming of their next encounter, he quickly tugged them up, shoving his shirttails in quickly. Elizabeth approached as he fastened the last button on his trousers and smoothed his waistcoat.