He backed her up so they stood directly at her bed. His lips never left hers, and he pressed her backward until she fell onto the soft mattress.
"I cannot tell you how many times I've lain in bed after seeing you, imagining all the wicked things I would do to you," he whispered as he trailed kisses over her jaw, down her throat. He moved a hand up to cup her breast, and she arched into his touch. She was so beautifully responsive.
Her nipple hardened beneath his palm, and again he cursed the fabric covering her body.
"Do you ever do that, Harriet? Imagine me touching you when you are in your bed?"
Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she nodded.
He wanted to ask her more. To tell him of her fantasies, but that would have to wait for another time. His lips found hers again, and she seared him with her passionate response. He moved down her body, pressing his mouth to her breast. The shift dampened under his tongue, molding to the hardened bud.
Her soft moans would prove his undoing. From his new position, he could smell the musky sweet scent of her desire. "Harriet, I need to taste you."
"What?"
"Trust me."
He shoved her nightgown up so that it bunched at her waist.
He cursed. Pale and pink and perfect hidden behind a triangle of golden curls.
She scrambled with the fabric, attempting to cover herself.
"No, love, you're perfect, I only wish I could see you better." He smoothed his hand over her thighs, around to her inner thighs.
He leaned forward and pressed kisses where his hands had been. She stiffened beneath him. He grabbed her left hand and laced their fingers together. With his right, he went back to her slick folds and ran his thumb against her.
She sucked in a breath and arched against his touch.
Then he lowered his mouth and licked her.
"Oliver, you mustn't."
"Shhh, love. 'Tis all right. Let me show you, and if you still want me to stop, I shall leave."
She nodded quickly, then squeezed her eyes shut again.
He waited for her body to relax beneath him, and he heard her shaky breath. Her fingers gripped his. She was too proper to use words, but he took that as an invitation, and he let himself explore her.
"You're so wet for me." He stroked her. "So sweet." He kissed her gently, not wanting to frighten her with the depth of his desire. He licked at her sex, delving inside her folds and lapping at her nectar. He could lose himself here with his mouth on her, and his erection pressed into the mattress beneath them.
But this wasn't about him. This was about her. She worked so hard to do everything people expected her to do. The perfect lady. He wanted to show her what it felt like to lose control. To show her how things could be between them if only she'd give him the chance.
His kisses deepened. She whimpered and moaned. Her fingers slid into his hair and held him tightly to her core. He smiled against her, and finally let himself taste her as he wanted. He sucked and nipped and licked. She was so hot, so wet, and he was so bloody hard. Spilling himself inside her would be an experience unlike any he'd ever had, but it would have to wait.
Her climax was close; he could feel that with her erratic bucking against him. He slid first one and then a second finger inside her while he lapped at the hidden bundle of nerves.
One more deep suckle and she was lost. Her body clenched around his finger, her back arched, and she cried out his name again and again. Her voice calling his name … it was what he wanted to remember the moment he left this world. There would never be a sweeter sound. He knew, in that moment, he'd do whatever it took to ensure she became his wife. He'd be damned if any other man ever brought her that release.
When her body finished riding the waves of pleasure, he pulled her gown back over her body. He pulled himself upward and nuzzled her neck.
He grabbed her hand and held it to the front of his painfully tight trousers. "I will not take your virtue tonight, sweet Harriet. But know that this is for you and only you." He kissed her forehead, then left her bed.
Harriet didn't want to allow herself to believe he wanted her. It made him wonder what she'd heard when he'd rejected her those years ago. The interaction had clearly made an impact on her.
His refusal of the marriage hadn't been about her. He hadn't wanted anyone. Hadn't believed he was capable of marrying anyone. His accident had been fresh; he'd still been wobbly on his cane. He'd been in no position to woo a woman.
He had one more step in his wooing, and then she would be his. He'd already secured a special license from the Archbishop. They could marry in the village church as soon as possible. Once he had a willing bride.
…
Her cheeks still burned at the thought of the scandalous things Oliver had done to her last night. How she'd begged and pleaded with him to bring her relief, and how he had done so, and it had been bigger and more shattering than she'd expected.
It was official-she was the very worst matchmaker in the history of the world.
She'd wager she had a permanent stain on her cheeks today to match the embarrassment she felt down to her toes. Could people tell? Did she look different? Was it obvious to everyone at the breakfast table that she'd had a wicked man between her thighs the night before? Good heavens, but her thoughts were not helping matters.
"Harriet, are you all right?" Agnes asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Of course," Harriet snapped. Then she released a hiss of a breath. "My apologies. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night. I shouldn't have been cross with you."
"You do look a little flushed. Is that headache still pestering you?"
"Sorry?" Harriet asked.
"Last night you left the ball early because of a headache."
"Yes, yes, my head has been aching terribly." She rubbed at her temples. "So much so that I'm afraid it's affecting my cognitive abilities this morning." She offered her friend a weak smile. "Were you able to ask Justine and Tilly anything last night about whether or not they'd received any messages from Lady X?"
"Yes, neither of them had. I didn't mention mine." Agnes frowned. "I trust them, truly I do, but until this mess is cleaned up, I want to be certain before divulging certain information."
"That's perfectly understandable. They haven't been members as long as we have."
They were just leaving the breakfast room when a servant came to them and bowed. "His lordship has requested you meet him in the armory."
"Me?" Harriet asked. Did his boldness know no bounds?
"Both of you. You are Lady Harriet and Lady Agnes?"
They nodded in unison.
"His lordship instructed," he said. "Please follow me."
They followed the servant to the opposite end of the house, an end that she had heard was still under construction and therefore off-limits to the guests. When she'd first arrived at Brookhaven, the first thing she'd noticed was the symmetry of building. Whereas most large estates had structures and additions from different eras, this one was all one cohesive style. She wagered they were being led to the sister room of the ballroom where they'd been the night before.
The servant stopped at the double doors. "Inside. But this is where I leave you." He bowed and then walked away.
"How intriguing," Agnes said. She grabbed onto the door handles and pulled. There was a small outer chamber and another group of doors. Once they'd opened those, they found Oliver standing at a window. He turned at the sound of the door.
"Splendid. I'm glad you both were able to come."
Harriet took in the sight before her. He'd gone to great lengths to set this room up just as she'd done in the ballroom at the Burkes townhome. Mattresses lay side by side on top of the floor, creating a padded area. There were a myriad of more conventional weapons displayed on a table as well as a basin and towels.
Agnes smacked Harriet on the arm. "He knows?" she whispered.
Harriet winced. "I'll explain later."
"Lady Agnes, have no fear, your secret is safe with me." He walked toward them, his wintry eyes settled on Harriet. "You may continue your training here without the concern that anyone will discover you. This area is off-limits to everyone save the two of you," he said.
Despite her initial caution, Agnes could not hide her glee. "This is marvelous, my lord. Thank you."
He nodded. "Now then, I shall leave you to it." He stopped right next to Harriet. "Know that when you are my wife, you will have access to this and any other resource you need. I wish not to change anything about you, other than to relieve you of your virtue," he added with a whisper.
She shivered, and then he was gone.
Harriet stared at the closed doors.
Agnes bumped her friend's hip with her own.
"Why would he do this?"
"Because he quite obviously likes you," Agnes said frankly.