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“I can’t forget what happened to Sarah,” his wife said in a bleak tone. “We should have spoken of it to Olivia and then this would never have happened.”

“Sarah is in the past,” he said, a trifle impatiently. “We agreed it was best.”

“You agreed!”

“You know what would have happened if there was the slightest whisper of Sarah and—and her behavior. The business was going through a difficult

time. We would have lost everything. We promised we would not speak of this again, my dear.”

She nodded, her head drooping. “I’m sorry. It was just seeing Olivia. It reminded me.” She turned to stare at him a little wildly as another thought occurred to her. “And how can you be sure this won’t end badly? Olivia is such a sweet, innocent girl. He will hurt her. Before long she’ll be regretting marrying him. Mr. Garsed is such a good man. Oh, Mr. Monteith, I know Sarah wouldn’t listen to me, but I do so wish Olivia had!”

“Hush, my dear.” With a sigh, Mr. Monteith held her close. Across the churchyard his gaze rested on his remaining daughter and her new husband. Was his wife right? Was this marriage a disaster in the making? And yet Nic Lacey, elegant, aristocratic, was keeping a close eye on Olivia, and there was something in his manner that spoke of more than mere convenience. Mr. Monteith decided he wouldn’t be at all surprised if this turned out to be a love match after all.

The house in which the Laceys spent the first days and nights of their honeymoon was owned by friends of Nic’s, who were away in Scotland. The house, which stood on the Thames, up from Richmond, was empty apart from a small army of servants, so Nic and Olivia were more or less left to their own devices.

At first the house appeared huge and unfriendly, and Olivia hadn’t known what to expect on their first night, but the intimate dinner in the dining room was close to perfect. The servants delivered the dishes like shadows, vanishing again and leaving the couple alone. Olivia was tired—from their wedding and from soothing her mother, who persisted in believing her daughter was now lost to her forever, and then from their journey here. It wasn’t long before she was blinking sleepily over her meal, while Nic leaned back in his chair, watching her over the rim of his glass.

“Tired, minx?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, or tried to.

“No regrets?”

“’Tis a little early yet, m’lord.”

He gave a low laugh. “Ever the cautious Olivia.”

“I would say I have been very incautious, my lord. Wildly incautious, in fact. Have you forgotten how incautious I can be?”

He laughed aloud this time and rose to his feet, coming around to pull back her chair. As she straightened her skirts he strolled toward the door, pausing to stretch. She watched him raise his arms above his head, his body arching gracefully, the muscles of buttocks and thighs tightening, and suddenly she was no longer tired. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes glowing in the candlelight, his mouth curled in a smile that promised much.

“Coming to bed, Olivia?” he said in a voice that dripped like honey. “This is our first night as husband and wife. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

His dark eyes gleamed. “I wonder if it will feel different. Do you think it will? Now that our union has been sanctioned by God and man.”

Olivia considered it, and then she smiled. “Why don’t we find out?”

Nic held out his hand.

A tremor began in her belly, spreading outward, making her flesh tingle and burn. Her fingers clung to his, and slowly, purposefully, he drew her into his arms. He ran his hand down her back and curled it about her waist. When his mouth closed on hers it was warm and rough, but she liked that. It showed her he wasn’t as controlled as he liked to pretend, that he cared about her, that she unsettled him in a way he wasn’t used to.

He cupped her face, running his fingers up into her hair, enjoying the silky texture. Nic began to take out her hairpins, one by one, tossing them aside all over the floor. Olivia protested, but he only smiled. Her hair tumbled down about her shoulders, and he gathered it to him, pressing his face to the soft, scented strands.

Olivia pulled apart the knot of his neck cloth, opening it so that she could touch her mouth to the hollow of his throat. She curled her fingers about the muscular column of his neck, and felt his hands slide into the dip of her waist, down to cup her bottom. Suddenly he brought her hips hard against him, so that she could feel just how ready for her he was.

That familiar languorous pleasure spread through her veins and muscles, making her skin feel as if it didn’t quite belong to her. Her breasts ached and tightened at the tips, and the flesh between her legs grew achy and swollen. The promise of pleasure was so exquisite she couldn’t have turned back if she tried.

With her hand in his, Nic led her up the grand curving staircase, pausing every few steps so that he could kiss her. It took them a long time to reach the landing. Once there, he leaned her against the balustrade, and while she arched dizzyingly over the hall below, bent to lap at her breasts, easing down her bodice so that he could suck at the peaks.

By the time he drew her safely back into his arms she was trembling and gasping. He drew up her skirts as she clung to him, his hands running over her stockings and stroking her bare thighs, before reaching around to clasp the soft cheeks of her bottom. His mouth was open against her breasts and she moaned, pulling his head down to her.

They stumbled around the corner into the wide corridor, and he pressed her against the wall, lifting her in his arms so that the only way she could keep her balance was for her legs to clasp his hips and her hands to cling to his shoulders. Between her thighs she could feel his body hard against her softness, sending teasing shivers of pleasure through her as he rotated his hips.

She kissed his face, warm butterfly kisses, before she reached his mouth. He groaned, and lifting her away from the wall, carried her through the bedchamber door and into their room. They fell upon the bed, and a moment later he was inside her.

“Don’t wait,” she gasped, moving against him.


Tags: Sara Bennett The Husband Hunters Club Historical