Oh, she hoped that he did not attempt to do so because Octavia may lose and give him what he wished for with her not gaining what she wanted.
She slipped behind a chair in an attempt to keep something between them. “Is this how you win all negotiations? Seduction?”
“I have never been forced to negotiate each detail with a lady, until you.”
This gave her pause. “How many negotiations have you participated in with ladies and what was the nature of such?”
“Former mistresses, and I was the one with the rules.”
Is that what this was? Instead of her, she was basically casting Bolton into the role of mistress.
A chill swept over her.
“You should go.”
Bolton stepped forward. “Octavia, what is wrong?”
“I do not think this is wise. I realize that I had not completely appreciated what I am asking until now, nor the ramifications that need further consideration.”
“You no longer want a lover?” His tone verified his dismissal. “You no longer want me?”
“I do not like how this has progressed, Lord Bolton. What I hoped to have been a freeing experience, a lover on my own terms, is suddenly sullied and tawdry.”
“No, it is not,” he argued.
But it was, and she had not seen the correlation between what she was asking and what gentlemen had done for centuries until now. She stared into his eyes. “Please go.”
“No.”
She pulled back at his refusal.
“I will retreat to the drawing room as you asked and wait for you to join me after you feel you are properly attired.”
He then turned on his heel, marched from her chamber, left, and closed the door behind him.
Octavia walked around the chair and sank into it. Did she clothe herself properly and meet him? Or did she remain here and hope that he left?
Except, she didn’t want him to go. What she needed to do was determine what she truly wanted.
At the word ‘mistress’, Octavia’s demeanor shifted from a combination of embarrassment and anticipation, to sober and serious, almost saddened.
He had only been answering her question and Angelo still wasn’t certain what he had said wrong. It was no secret that he’d had mistresses before, but the circumstances were not the same. Neither of them was married and what he hoped they would enjoy would also be mutually agreed upon, no payment for favors exchanged.
He poured a glass of brandy for himself, and then one for her, hoping that she would decide to join him. If necessary, he would wait all night, though he would leave before the sun rose so that nobody knew that he was here.
Angelo had come here tonight to agree to all terms. Then, when she had stood before the fire and he was able to see the outline of her body through the thin cotton, his mouth had gone dry. Not only had he viewed her silhouette, but the darkness of her nipples against the cloth and a slight darkening at the apex of her thighs.
A goddess, just as he had suspected with long legs that he wanted around his hips and full breasts that he wanted to feast upon.
He also grew painfully hard and feared that once their negotiations were complete and she finally agreed to allowing him to be her lover that he might not be able to last long enough to bring her the fulfillment she deserved. He wanted her release and screaming his name, shuddering beneath him before he reached his peak, but was afraid that he would fail them both.
Her rejection, the coolness of her demeanor had doused some of his desire, but not completely.
Now what he feared the most was her sending him from this house and never being available to him again.
He rose from the chair when Octavia entered the drawing room. She was in a simple, pale blue dress, and her dark hair tumbled about her shoulders and down her back. He offered her the glass of brandy, which she took and sipped. Angelo said nothing as he wasn’t certain what to say.
“I have changed my mind.”
