A Countess by Chance(9)

One breath. Two…

All the air seemed trapped in her lungs as she waited for his lips to brush against hers, waited for that electric charge to shoot up her spine. The memory of his mouth on hers, their tongues entwined, caused her heart to beat wildly. Several seconds passed…

Her eyes snapped open.

He was still dangerously close, his lips curled up into the semblance of a smile. “Very well, I agree to your terms. But be forewarned, Miss Dewhurst, I can be very persuasive.”

Yes, she remembered, too late, that he was exactly right about that.





              Chapter Four



He’d gone mad. Somewhere between last night and this morning, he’d lost what precious little sense he had. No, that wasn’t true. He’d been slowly losing his mind for two endless years. But today, this evening, his madness had reached alarming new heights.

Why couldn’t he simply walk away? Why, for God’s sake, couldn’t he turn his attention toward another, less troublesome female? Any woman between the ages of eighteen and sixty would do, and happily. Virgins, widows, ladies’ maids…the ground was thick with them. But it was Olivia alone who caught and held his attention, Olivia that his heart pounded for, and by God, it was Olivia his body craved.

She was turned away, talking to Wood, and Adam allowed himself a long, leisurely look at her. He couldn’t help himself; he drank in every detail—every alluring blemish, every exquisite flaw. Two years away from her company had starved him, and he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away, even if he’d tried.

Simply put, she was alluring. Damn her for that. Although she was the least adorned female in the room, her simple, emerald green gown fit her curves to perfection. Indeed, it clung to her like a length of wet linen that he itched to peel away. He would taste her then. Every smooth, creamy inch of her, every peak and valley, every dip and curve. With his tongue, he’d torment her, bring her to the brink of oblivion, and then back again, until she was writhing, begging for more.

James appeared beside him, pressed a glass of wine into his hand, then took a sip of his own. “Well, how did your little experiment go?”

Adam continued to stare at Olivia, watching idly as she danced with Wood. “Remind me never to listen to you again.”

She hadn’t reacted to the word “curricle” at all, but what did that prove? Only that he was an idiot for taking James’s advice.

“It went that well?” James’s gaze traveled to Olivia. “She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

“Regrettably,” Adam said.

It took every fleck of self-control, but he managed to stay firmly rooted to the spot, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He scowled.

“Well, there is one other way to tell if she is indeed a virgin…”

Adam glanced at James sharply. “My aim is to torment her, not to ruin her—in the stricter sense, at least.”

James shrugged. “She’s ruined anyway, old man. You might as well give her something to remember. It’s a kindness, really.”

Adam tensed. “Scandal sheets cannot be relied upon for the truth, James, and you well know it.”

She was still a virgin. He would bet his entire fortune on it.

At that moment, the song ended and the dancing couples parted. Adam watched as Wood led Olivia across the room, to the French doors that opened out into the garden. He waited for her to pull away, for her to make some excuse. She didn’t. Instead, she flashed the idiot a dazzling smile and curled her hand around his proffered arm.

Stiffly, he excused himself and stormed out into the garden. The air was brisk, too cold for Olivia to be outside, and with a virtual stranger, no less.

Hundreds of lanterns were lit, dangling from the trees, illuminating the garden in a warm amber glow. Gravel paths veered in every direction, cutting between neatly trimmed shrubberies, forming a sort of maze—the perfect setting for a seduction. He darted to the right, then to the left, always coming up against yet another gravel path.

Then he heard it. Her laughter.

It floated on the breeze, light and musical. Every protective instinct in him clawed to the surface. She was alone with Wood, and he’d made her laugh. Christ. Adam usually considered himself a patient, reasonable man, but just now, he wanted nothing more than to shove his fist through Wood’s face.

He followed the lilting tone of her laughter, and found them together, sitting side by side on a stone bench, half concealed by a tall, cone-shaped shrub. They glanced up in unison as Adam approached.

Wood jumped to his feet instantly. “Huntington,” he said quickly. “I was just showing Miss Dewhurst the constellation Andromeda.”