A bolt of lust speared through him.
He might have conquered it. He hadn’t forgotten that he used to be a gentleman. And then the minx lifted her long, dark lashes and gazed into his eyes with a look that a man of his experience couldn’t mistake. With a groan, Nic bent his head and kissed her.
Her lips were cold and tasted of brandy, but she was enthusiastic. Very enthusiastic. He tried to slow her down, turning his attention to her cheeks, her eyelids, the curve of her jaw. She acquiesced for a brief moment, and then she took control. Olivia reached up, clamping her frozen palms on either side of his face, and held him still.
“This is what I want,” she whispered, and with that she leaned forward and began to kiss his lips again.
So this was what she wanted? She was obviously a direct kind of woman. A hot and hard kind of woman. Well, he thought, he’d give it to her hot and hard.
He tilted her over his arm to get better access to her mouth, and dived in. He felt her stiffen, briefly, and then give a little whimper. Her tongue slid along his, her arms clung about his neck. If he hadn’t known better, he would never have believed it was the cool and beautiful Miss Monteith he held in his arms, but some wild, passionate Gypsy wench eager to dispose of her virginity…
What the devil am I doing?
Shocked to the core, Nic pushed her away and stumbled to his feet. He staggered a few steps, turning his back, knowing he was fully erect and not wanting her to see the tent in his trousers. She had almost drowned and now he was about to ravish her. Even for Wicked Nic that was pretty dastardly. Nic took several deep, calming breaths before he finally dared to turn back to look at her.
She was sitting up, still bedraggled, but she’d twisted her water-darkened hair into a knot at her nape and she was watching him with that direct, disconcerting look, as if waiting to see what he would do
next.
“I apologize,” he said quietly.
“I don’t want you to apologize. I enjoyed it.”
“I apologize anyway.”
“Nic, I wanted you to kiss me. Surely you knew that? I wanted you to save me.” Her face lit up. “And you did.”
“What if I hadn’t been here?” he retorted, the anger returning to his voice. “You could have drowned.”
“But you were here. I’ve been trying to think of a way to break through the distance that has grown up between us, to bring back that easiness we used to feel in each other’s company.”
“So you decided to relive the past?” he growled.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Her blue eyes were full of laughter, as if she found the situation amusing.
He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to strangle her. If he touched her again…well, who knew what might happen. He was Wicked Nic, after all.
As if she’d read his mind she said bluntly, “You want me, don’t you? You want me as a—a man wants a woman.” That little stumble told him everything about her innocence when it came to the subject, and he might have smiled if he wasn’t so tense.
“Of course I bloody want you!” he roared. “But I can’t have you!”
Olivia Monteith stood up, her wet dress outlining her body in a manner that made him want to weep with desire. “Yes, Nic, you can. Marry me.”
It was finally more than he could bear. Another moment and he’d throw himself upon her, and he couldn’t risk that. With a muttered curse he strode away from her as fast as he could, back through the woods to his own land, and to safety.
He didn’t expect her to follow him, and she didn’t. He’d answered her question, and he cursed himself again for being too weak to resist her. So weak that he had to rush off and leave her, bedraggled and cold, and alone by the stream. A stream she would no doubt cross again to get home, rather than go the long way by the path and the bridge.
What if she fell in and this time there was no one there to rescue her?
Nic hesitated, slowed, then stopped. He wanted to keep walking, get home, and change out of his wet clothes, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He was either a hero or a fool, but he couldn’t do it. With a groan, he turned back.
Chapter 4
Olivia grimaced, her dress dripping, her slippers squishing, as she walked back to the stepping stones. She was remembering the place in the woods where she had left her bundle of dry clothing—she had no intention of arriving home in a state that would make any explanations necessary. The stones looked slippery but it would take her only a moment to cross them, while if she went the long way, by the path to the bridge, it would take at least forty minutes. She shivered despite the sunshine. She’d crossed the stones many times since she was a child, and she wasn’t afraid of falling in.
Actually, the way she felt at the moment, she might simply float from stone to stone. Olivia was so full of elation and triumph, she really did feel as if she were floating as she began to cross the stepping stones. Her plan had worked—the ice between them was well and truly broken, and soon they’d be back on their old friendly footing. Nic Lacey hadn’t changed, he was still the kind and generous man he had been years ago—the type of man you could rely on and trust. A hero in black sheep’s clothing. She’d loved him then and she loved him now, and she knew in her heart there would never be another man for her.
And added to that, he kissed her in a way that made her body go warm and shivery and her toes curl. He’d held her as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and she liked that. Nic Lacey was a rake, a master of pleasure, and Olivia couldn’t wait to benefit from his experience.