Well, now she knew whathe’dbeen standing there contemplating, didn’t she?
This kiss was hot and desperate, and proved he’d just been waiting for a chance to be alone with her. Olive snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and was rewarded with a muffled little groan of need.
His hands settled on her hips, but instead of pulling her closer, he turned them so she was flush against the window. The coolness pressed against her back, and thenhewas pressed against her front, trapping her in the most wonderful way. Delicious sensations were radiating from her middle down to her toes, and she instinctively tilted her pelvis forward, trying to relieve the ache with more pressure.
His lips left hers, traveling down her jaw, while he murmured her name. Olive allowed her head to drop back against the window so his kisses could trail down her neck, and the throbbing between her thighs became even more insistent.
“Olive,” he murmured again. “Aye, lass!”
His brogue vibrated against her skin, and she realized she was panting with need, willing his hands to stray, to cup, to fondle, to?—
And then he wasn’t kissing her anymore. He wasn’t even holding her anymore.
He was—magically—on the other side of the settee, reaching for a book, then straightening and flipping through it almost nonchalantly as two older women bustled into the room, chattering away.
With a start, Olive turned enough so—she hoped—it would seem believable she was just staring out the window once more, not at all having been recently ravished.
Moments away from orgasm.
Desperate for more of his kisses.
Falling in love.
Perhaps it worked, because one of the matrons engaged Phineas in discussion about the kind of book she was hoping to find, and he was pleasant enough as he answered her questions, although Olive noticed his voice sounded strained.
And he held the open book in front of his trousers, right at waist height.
The thought she might’ve affected him as much as he’d affected her made her giddy with excitement…or perhaps arousal.
That was the last of the kisses, but only because the two of them didn’t find themselves alone again. Still, the memory of that desperate embrace kept Olive warm. More than once, alone inher big bed in the guest hall of Dumpkins Manor, she touched herself and pretended they werehishands on her body.
Tuesday found more forced Mandatory Fun, which led to much good-natured complaining among the guests as their hostess became more and more desperate. Her activities culminated in a guided tour of the deceased Lord Dumpkins’s collection of taxidermied frogs, and an explanation from Laird Oliphant on how it was possible for their tiny little legs to be strong enough to support the taxidermied elephant’s foot, as well as the methods used to suspend their poor little bodies in the gelatin mimicking the miasma beyond the stars.
It certainly was creative, but Olive couldn’t decide if she was horrified or fascinated. Perhaps a bit of both, and if the slightly green pallor of her fellow guests were any indication, they agreed.
Wednesday afternoon was, thankfully, the scheduled theatricals, and Olive couldn’t think of a single time in her life she’d been grateful for being forced to participate in a theatrical performance, but at least it didn’t involve frogs.
As with the previous Wednesday performances, Miss Julia handed out roles and scripts in the morning, which allowed the participants a few hours to scrounge costumes and work out their scenes. Thankfully, this week wasRomeo and Juliet,which featured mostly men. The sufficiently waifish Willow was given the role of Juliet, while Hazel played her nurse.
Grateful she hadn’t been cast in this performance, Olive settled into the audience between Ash and Athena, the latter of whom kept her giggling with her bitingly sarcastic commentary. Apparently, Phineas’s sister didn’t have much use for theatricals or Mandatory Fun.
Fortunately, the commentary ceased when Phineas stepped onto the makeshift stage, wearing his kilt, and proceeded to give Mercutio a decidedly Scottish flair.
“If you keep eyeing his legs, dear Olive, your brother is bound to notice.”
Olive leaned closer to her friend and matched her whisper, when she replied, “Do not tell me you can blame me?” Rumors of Athena’s scandalous past had made the rounds. “He has magnificent-looking legs.”
Athena hummed teasingly and jabbed her elbow into Olive’s side. “How do theyfeel, hmm?”
Feeling the blush begin to climb her cheeks, Olive glanced away from Phineas’s thumb-biting long enough to send her friend a censoring glare. “We have not been alone long enough to find out.”
That set Athena giggling again, and Olive found she didn’t mind being the butt of her friend’s scandalous jokes for a change.
When the laird, who was giving a rather dispassionate performance as Benvolio, encouraged Mercutio and Tybalt—played by a man barely old enough to shave—to put away their swords or find a more private place for their duel, Phineas snarled back in defiance. It was one of Olive’s favorite lines, and she found herself mouthing it along with the man she was falling in love with.
“Men’s eyes were made to look and let them gaze! I will not budge for no man’s pleasure.”
Olive sighed at the emotion behind the line, and when Phineas turned to find her in the audience and offered her a secret smile,she wondered if he’d heard. She wondered if he understood the draw behind that line; unlike Athena, Olive had never been able to put aside her cares about what the world thought of her, but with Phineas, she felt as if she might do anything.
