“Smelling your scent,” he spoke against her hair.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in, and thought that he was right. She could smell the essence of him, too, and she liked it.
“I’ve seen what you look like with your clothes on,” he said, his voice muffled, “but I need to see you without them. Corsets and petticoats can hide a multitude of sins.”
She pushed him back so that she could read his face, his eyes. They were sleepy, his eyelids sunk low over them, but there was a gleam there that made her heart begin to beat faster.
“I could make an exception. In your case.” He stroked her lips with his fingertips, running them down over her jaw until his hand was resting on her chest, his fingers splayed. “I don’t think clever undergarments have anything to do with your figure.”
“But I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Olivia said breathlessly.
He gazed into her eyes a moment longer, and then he slid his hand down over her bodice, over her breast. He cupped her flesh, tenderly, as if testing to see how well it fit into his palm. Olivia gasped, her eyes widening, gripping the arms of the chair as if she needed to steady herself.
“Very nice,” Nic murmured, still squeezing her gently. “Full and yet firm. What color are your areolas? I like pink, but I won’t quibble. I can feel your nipples, too. Little hard buds. I’d like to roll them with my tongue and take them into my mouth.”
This image was so vivid in Olivia’s mind that she almost felt as if he had done just that, causing her breasts to feel full and almost painful with desire. Seeing her predicament, he smiled again, and now there was a hint of color in his tanned cheeks. “You’d like that, too, wouldn’t you, Olivia? I can see it in your face. You really are a passionate woman.”
“People…people call me icy and controlled.”
“Do they? Well, they don’t know you at all, do they, Olivia?”
No, they didn’t. Only her friends knew the real Olivia. Nic was her friend, or he used to be. “Nic,” she breathed, and lifting her hand, rested it against his lean cheek. She had meant to ask him the question, but now, gazing into his eyes, she found that words were beyond her. What she really wanted was to be with him. To be his.
He knew. How could he not? For a breathless moment she thought he was going to oblige, but then his eyelids closed, briefly, and when he opened them again the sleepy look was gone. His voice was like a frosty morning. “I want you to undress now. Every stitch. I want to see what I’m buying. I never sign off on a deal until I’ve seen the merchandise. If I don’t like what I see, then I’ll leave you a tip and pass you on to my friends.”
Shocked by the abrupt change in him, Olivia felt her passion give way to anger. “Are you really capable of such callous behavior?” she demanded. “You would really force a woman to disrobe before you so that you could look her over like a—a beast? Before you hand her over to the next man?”
He shrugged indifferently. “Of course. Why not? I’ve had no complaints. If I choose a woman, she and I are together for an agreed period of time, and during that time we give each other pleasure, and when it is over she is well paid. Both parties get exactly what they want.”
Olivia’s ideas of men and women and love were far more romantic than his, and she found his attitude disappointing and difficult to comprehend. “And you’ve never felt inclined to keep a woman with you for longer than the agreed time?” she asked, struggling to understand. “You’ve never fallen in love?”
His smile widened. “Olivia,” he mocked, “this isn’t about love. It’s about pleasure, and pleasure grows stale. Moving on to greener fields is the only way to keep it fresh.” He glanced away. “I think I’ve said enough for now. I don’t want to completely destroy that attractive naïveté of yours.”
Olivia reached out and caught his hand before he could withdraw, forcing him to remain facing her. “Do you know what I believe, Nic?”
He sighed. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I believe pleasure is more than a brief liaison with a stranger. Or it can be, if you make the right choice. Life doesn’t have to be about fighting off boredom and a constant search for greener fields. If you make the right choice of partner, every day of your life can become an adventure in itself.”
Nic’s hand turned in hers, and he held it lightly, looking down at her long fingers and pink nails. “That is where we differ, Olivia. That is where our roads divide. I am not looking for the right choice, just a woman to take to bed with me.”
“Why don’t you let me try and persuade you?” she urged. “You used to like to listen to me talk.”
“That was a long time ago. We’ve changed.”
“But we haven’t! Don’t you see? We’re still the same two people.”
“Olivia…” His lips brushed hers, barely, and then abruptly he straightened and moved away.
It wasn’t nearly enough. Olivia gave an involuntary cry of protest before she heard the voices beyond the door,
and then the hurrying footsteps coming closer. Dangers Nic had no doubt already been well aware of.
“You’re lucky,” he said. “You’ve escaped from this with nothing more than a dunking. Don’t risk yourself again, Olivia. Go home and marry someone who won’t ruin your life and break your heart.”
Olivia wanted to tell him that she had no intention of taking the safe way home, no matter how many times she fell in. And she didn’t believe he would ruin her life or break her heart, not deep down, no matter how often he said it. But it was too late; the door was opening.
“Miss Monteith!” Estelle cried, looking worried, and behind her Abbot, flushed from hurrying to keep up. “Oh dear me, miss,” the maid gasped, a hand to her heaving bosom, “you are very wet!”