What was she thinking?he raged.Did she follow me, think it was some kind of lark? Bloody hell, she gave me her word…and I will not be lied to. Even by her.
He strode toward her bed in the far corner. He would wait for her there, he thought with dark satisfaction. She would sneak back in, thinking she’d pulled the wool over his eyes. She’d prance toward her bed and then…
He would catch her red-bloody-handed. There would be no more lies or excuses. Deep in his gut, he’d always suspected that there was something she wasn’t telling him. Yet he’d let his feelings—hislove, why not call a spade a spade—sway him. He hadn’t wanted to confront his worst fears: that she was deceiving and manipulating him.
God, he thought with a stab of anguish, it was his marriage all over again.
Approaching the canopy bed, he made out a lump beneath the covers. Pillows no doubt, the oldest damned trick in the book. He stalked over…and froze.
Livy lay there, asleep. Her lashes were dark fans against her cheeks, and an ivory counterpane was pulled up to her neck. She looked like a slumbering angel.
She’s been here the entire time?he thought numbly.I imagined seeing her…she wasn’t at the club? She didn’t lie to me?
Disbelief warring with hope, he reached for the coverlet. As he pulled it down, he dreaded that he would expose a trollop’s black gown. What he found was a chaste white night rail.
Remorse pumped through him. Along with shattering relief.
Bloody hell, I’m an idiot. This is Livy, not Arabella. She would not betray me.
At that moment, Livy opened her eyes. She blinked, as if surfacing from a dream. She stared up at him…and a dazzling smile of welcome lit her eyes. “Ben?”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
She sat up. “What are you doing here?”
One look at Ben’s face as he struggled to answer her, and Livy could tell that he hadn’t expected her to be here. That he now felt guilty for suspecting her of being at the club. Of course, that madeherfeel guilty for her charade. Yet Charlie had said that Ben’s safety depended upon Livy’s concealment of the truth…and Livy would do anything to protect the man she loved.
Livy pushed aside the confusing tangle of thoughts. She would sort things out later. The truly important thing was that Ben washere, and they were together after what had felt like an eternity of separation.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you so much, Ben,” she said with heartfelt sincerity.
“Ah, bloody hell.” He framed her jaw with his hands. He was shaking a little, his eyes bruised with shadows, his hair disheveled waves around his face. “Livy, I…I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if struggling with himself; when he opened them, need glittered in the blue depths. “It’s been hell without you.God,I’ve missed you.”
He bent his head, and she tipped hers up, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. The taste of him, being in his arms…nothing had ever felt this right—this essential. In a blink, the desperate tensions of the night transformed into another kind of need. He must have felt that way too, for when she parted her lips, he delved in, a feral sound rising from his throat.
They fell onto the bed, melded by their fiery kiss. She threaded her fingers through his rough-silk hair and pressed herself against his hard length, her tongue dancing with his. She tasted a trace of whisky, and while it was not unpleasant, it was strange because the Ben she knew abstained from spirits. It reminded her of his night at the club: the scene with Cherise Foxton came rushing back, billowing the flames of possessiveness. The need to reestablish her claim collided with desire, and it was a combustible combination.
Livy rolled atop Ben, and he let her, the dim light showing the glint of surprise in his gaze. She attacked him with feverish passion. He groaned when she peppered his bristly jaw with kisses and suckled his earlobe, flicking it with her tongue. Tearing off his cravat, she nuzzled the strong, warm column of his throat. His spicy male musk maddened her with wanting. She wanted more of him, but his clothes were in the way.
When she fumbled clumsily with the buttons of his waistcoat, he gave a husky laugh.
“Eager wench, aren’t you?” His eyes smiled up at her.
“I want you,” she whispered. “So badly.”
He tucked a tress behind her ear. “I burn for you, my love. But we mustn’t go too far. Lady Fayne—”
“She is out and will not be home for hours.” This was no lie. “We have all the privacy we need. Please, Ben, Ineedyou.”
Her plea seemed to snap his restraint…and his willingness to let her be in control. He lifted her off him and rose from the bed, stripping off his coat.
“Take off your nightgown,” he ordered.
Her eyes on his, she undid the pearl buttons along the front placket until she could pull the garment over her head. Kneeling on the mattress, bare as the day she was born, she felt pride at the proprietary lust in her lover’s eyes. Her own gaze was equally possessive as she watched him undress. He was the essence of virility, long lines of sculpted muscle and taut hair-dusted skin. When he shed his trousers, a hot, viscous tremor passed through her core. His cock was huge, a thick and heavy truncheon between his thighs.
“See something you want, little one?” he inquired.
She loved the hint of arrogance in his tone. “I want all of you.”
