Olivia and the Masked Duke Page 13

  “Nothing.” The word dripped with frustration and pain. “I can never change what I did.”

  “Exactly. The only thing you can do is learn from your mistakes,” she said earnestly. “According to my mama, a mistake can be forgiven if one makes proper amends.”

  A ghost of a smile flitted over his mouth. “You told me that the day I rescued you.”

  “Because it is true. And regardless of what you have done, you will always be my hero.” She touched his arm, his muscles bulging at the contact. “Because I know who you are, Hadleigh. The true you. That is why I love you and why I will always be here by your side.”

  The longing that rippled over his handsome features hugged her heart. She recognized that she’d always felt the desire to take care of him. To look out for him, the way he looked out for her. As a girl, she’d cheered him up and eased his solitude. As a woman, she could do so much more…if he would only let her.

  “My little queen.” His voice jagged, he framed her face between his palms. “Ah, God. How can I resist you?”

  He bent his head, his mouth claiming hers.

  His kiss was gentle yet masterful, a far cry from her first clumsy attempt. There was no smooshing of lips, just soft pressure and brushes that sent wisps of heat over her skin. He slid his fingers beneath her wig, anchoring her as he courted her mouth with slow, drugging kisses. Caresses so sweet they stirred her very soul. Utterly awash, she surrendered to him. Their mouths clung as if they had nothing to hold onto but each other.

  When his tongue swept against the seam of her mouth, it felt natural to open to him. To receive the wet, tender thrust that sent a wave of awareness through her body. The tips of her breasts throbbed, molten warmth gathering at her center. She felt dizzy, overcome by sensation yet wanting more. More of his kisses, more of him. He delved deeper, sliding his tongue against hers, and she moaned with desperate need.

  He broke the kiss, resting his forehead briefly against hers.

  “You’re so bloody sweet,” he said raggedly.

  “Oh, Hadleigh.” She had to catch her breath. “Does this mean you do like me as more than a friend?”

  He stared at her…then let out a guffaw. His laughter was infectious, and she joined in, enjoying the lighthearted moment, the burst of sunshine after the rain. When they both calmed, he took her hand and kissed the knuckles before tucking it against his thigh.

  “I am attracted to you,” he admitted. “That is the problem.”

  “Why is it a problem? You told me about your past, and it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I haven’t told you everything. And, no,” he said, cutting off her argument, “there’s not enough time to do so tonight. We’re back at Lady Fayne’s.”

  Livy hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped.

  “Beyond that, I am too old for you,” he went on. “Your parents are bound to disapprove and rightly so. And while you and I are attracted to one another, we may not be compatible. There are things I want that are not suitable for a young virgin.”

  “As Papa is older than Mama by a dozen years, they would be hypocrites for disapproving of our age difference. And clearly age has no bearing on marital bliss: look how happy my parents are,” she argued. “As for the other matter, how will we know unless we, um, try?”

  He gave her a stern look; for some reason, it added to her tingling arousal.

  “There is no way in hell I would dishonor you in that fashion,” he said. “If we decide to pursue something beyond friendship, then that path can only lead to marriage. Our physical relationship is not like a hat to be tried on and returned if the fit isn’t right.”

  “But isn’t that the point of courtship?” she persisted. “As long as we don’t do anything, um, irrevocable, I see no problem with us spending time together to see if we are a match.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Let me think upon it.”

  “How long will you—”

  “I will call upon you tomorrow. If you stop pestering me about it.”

  Despite his exasperated expression, she saw the amusement in his eyes and knew she was getting her way.

  “All right,” she said happily.

  “I must also ask you to be discreet about our relationship. Until things are settled, I don’t want your reputation to be compromised in any way.”

  Livy wasn’t sure she could keep things a secret from Charlie. Her mentor was perceptive…and undoubtedly going to interrogate her the minute she walked through the door.

  “May I at least tell Fiona and Glory?” she asked. “They can be trusted.”

  “I would not presume to stand between the Willflowers,” Hadleigh said wryly. “Now we had better get you back inside. How did you manage to slip out earlier?”

  “I, um, climbed out my bedchamber window. There is a tree right outside of it,” she improvised. If she had had to leave undetected, that would have been her chosen route. “But I can go in through the front door. I have a key, and no one is awake at this hour.”

  He descended from the carriage first, scanning the dark and quiet street before handing her down. “Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

  “May your dreams be sweet,” she whispered.

  She rose up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his jaw. Feeling his surprise, the tightening of his grip on her waist before he let her go, she smiled to herself. Then she dashed toward the house, floating on clouds the entire way.

  16

  1845, London Residence of the Duke of Hadleigh

  Livy is 16; Ben is 28

  Hadleigh was in his study, where Livy thought he would be. Peering through the crack in the doorway, she saw that he wasn’t alone. Papa was with him, the two men standing by the window, looking out into the rain-drenched garden. She was struck by their similarity, their height and broadness of shoulder emphasized by the dark garb they wore to honor the somber occasion.

  The men were silent and, at age sixteen, Livy was old enough to understand why. Things happened that defied the comfort of language. There was no cure for grief, only time and the support of loved ones to make it more bearable. She didn’t think Hadleigh had many people who loved him…and now he had lost the one person who was supposed to love him most.

  She was fiercely glad that Papa was there to offer his friendship. And she would do what she could to help ease Hadleigh’s pain. Clearing her throat, she pushed open the door.

  Both men turned in her direction. Hadleigh’s expression was as bleak as the rainy day. He had lost even more weight during the preceding months he’d spent secluded with his wife at their country estate, his skin stretched drum-taut over the sharp frame of his bones. His eyes were bleary, rimmed with red, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for months.

  “Livy.” Papa appeared relieved to see her. “I was about to find your mama. Why don’t you keep Hadleigh company until I return?”

  Livy nodded, and as her father walked by her, he gave her a meaningful look.

  “Be a comfort and not a bother, poppet,” he murmured. “Poor chap’s been through a lot today.”

  Did he honestly think she would bicker with Hadleigh on the day of his wife’s funeral? Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she dipped her chin in acknowledgement. Papa squeezed her shoulder then exited, and she went to stand next to Hadleigh, who’d resumed his brooding watch over the grey and misty landscape.

  “You needn’t stay with me, you know,” he said. “Regardless of what your papa thinks, I am too old to need a nanny.”

  “I am not here to mind you.” Knowing Hadleigh would despise even the slightest sign of pity, she said lightly, “I am here to get away from the crowd.”

  This wasn’t untrue. The house was packed with so-called “mourners” who’d obviously come for the spectacle and gossip rather than any sense of caring. To Livy’s disgust, she’d overheard people whispering horrid things about the deceased. The rumors of the Duchess of Hadleigh’s infidelity were not new; they’d even reached Livy’s young ears before. N
onetheless, Livy was shocked that people would show such blatant disrespect, not just toward the dead, but the living.

  “I do not blame you.” Hadleigh looked at her then, the agony in his eyes piercing her heart. “Most of the people are here out of curiosity, if not downright spite. Arabella did not have many friends. Yet she always liked an elaborate affair, and I wanted to give her a procession fit for a duchess.”

  “The arrangements you made are very grand,” Livy said softly. “I am sure Her Grace would have approved.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Arabella is gone.” He exhaled. “Because of me.”

  “You mustn’t say that,” Livy protested.

  “Why not? It is the truth,” he said harshly. “She died due to complications in her pregnancy—a pregnancy she did not want in the first place. I was the one who insisted. The one who thought that a child would make things better between us…” His throat bobbed above his dark cravat. “Instead, I killed her.”

  “No, you did not.” Livy placed a hand on his quivering bicep, over the black mourning band. “I do not know why these things happen, but they do. A part of God’s mysterious plan. But whatever the reason, you are not the cause of Arabella’s death.”

  “I loved her, you know. Despite everything that…that went on in my marriage.” His voice broke. “I loved my wife.”

  How Livy wished she could shoulder some of his pain. “I know you did.”

  And because he looked like he needed it, she gave him a hug, the way she might comfort her brothers when they had a bad day. Since he was much taller, she wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking her head against his spice-and-Hadleigh-scented waistcoat. After a heartbeat, his arms circled her, nearly crushing her with the force of his grief.

  That was the thing most people did not understand about Hadleigh: his jaded insouciance hid a man of intense feeling. Over the years, Livy had come to realize how harshly he judged himself. She could not let him take on one more sin.

  “I am sorry you must go through this,” she whispered. “But know that you are not at fault. And that you are not alone.”

  A tremor travelled through his lean frame. “What would I do without you?”

  “You’ll never have to find out,” she promised.

  “But maybe I should.”

  Before she could puzzle out his gruff words, he let her go.

  Jamming his hands into his coat pockets, he said, “I need to get away, Livy. I am not…I’m not doing well.”

  “You do look a bit worse for the wear,” she said candidly. “Why don’t you come to stay at Strathmore Castle? Mama says Scottish air is medicine, and it has done wonders for Will’s constitution—”

  “No. I have to be alone.”

  “Your country seat, then. It is not too far. Papa and I can come to visit and—”

  “I won’t be seeing visitors.”

  She paused at his stark look. “Not…not even me?”

  “Not even you, little one.”

  “But why not?” she asked in bewilderment. “I wouldn’t be a bother. You and I are good at being alone together, remember?”

  “I am not right, Livy.”

  “You’re not ill, are you?” she asked with sudden anxiety.

  “Not in the way you mean.” He shoved a hand through his hair, dark without the burnished kiss of the sun. “It is a grown-up matter, something I must take care of on my own. But I promise you that when I am well, you will be the first person I seek.”

  “How long will your recovery take?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

  “I do not know.”

  “Days? Or weeks? Not months—”

  “Livy.” He cut her off with a look. “I truly do not know, and you hounding me isn’t going to change that.”

  Panic beat inside her chest at the thought of losing him. “But what will I do without you? Soon I will be introduced into Society, and it is bound to be a disaster. I will need your advice.” An even worse thought slammed into her. “What if you forget all about me?”

  He laughed, and for a moment, the shadows receded from his thin face.

  “How could I forget my little queen, whom I fished from a pond, hmm?” He chucked her beneath the chin. “If anything, it will be you who forgets me. You’ll be too busy taking Society by storm to pay your old chum any mind.”

  “I could never forget you,” she vowed fiercely. “And I will always be here for you.”

  “We shall see.” His smile faded into something exquisitely sad. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  He was wrong. The love and loyalty of a McLeod did last forever. Yet from his expression, she could see that words were not enough; she would have to prove it to him.

  “May I at least write to you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “And will you write me back?”

  “I will do my best,” he said gruffly.

  “All right, then.” She sighed because there was naught else to do. “Hadleigh?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t take too long getting better,” she told him. “I don’t wish to grow up without you.”

  Present Day

  Ben had Livy where he wanted her: on her hands and knees, naked on the bed. Standing, he ran his palms up the backs of her thighs, loving the way she shivered at his touch like a mount recognizing its master. She was a filly not yet broken, and he burned to train her in the ways of desire.

  Palming her arse, he spread her dark thatch with his thumbs, finding her as soft and juicy as a peach. His mouth watered with the need to taste her. To discover the flavor of his little queen’s surrender.

  He leaned down, swiping the flat of his tongue up her pouting pink seam. Her sweet and salty essence drenched his senses, her breathless moans tugging on his turgid cock like a fist. He parted her secret folds, delving deep, groaning when her virgin passage clenched around his tongue.

  Christ, she was irresistible. Innocence and sensuality wrapped up in one.

  Possessiveness roared through him. And she’s all mine.

  “There’s my good girl,” he growled. “Grind yourself against my tongue.”

  She gasped, and he wondered if she was blushing even as she obeyed his command with wanton enthusiasm. She pushed her pussy against his ravenous mouth, presenting him with a veritable feast. He ate her until she screamed out her climax, anointing his tongue with her dew.

  Swiping his hand across his mouth, he straightened. “Did you enjoy being licked, Livy?”

  She tossed her dark tresses over her shoulder and turned her head. Shock punched him in the gut when he saw it wasn’t Livy looking at him...but his dead duchess.

  “I loved it,” Arabella purred.

  He stumbled backward. “You…you’re dead.”

  “You killed me.” Her green eyes glowed with preternatural spite. “But I could never forget you, Hadleigh. I will always be here...”

  Ben jerked awake. Heart thudding, he swung a panicked gaze around his surroundings…and saw that he was in his bedchamber, in his own bed, the sweat-soaked sheets clinging to his bare skin. Dawn’s watery light was just beginning to seep through the crack in the drapes.

  Sitting up, he took a deep breath, trying to disentangle himself from the phantom web of the dream. Simultaneously, he felt an insistent throbbing in his groin. Glancing down, he saw his cockstand tenting the sheet.

  Planting his elbows against his raised knees, he raked his hands through his damp hair.

  Devil take it. Lust and guilt pounded in his veins. What am I doing?

  Last night, Livy’s sweet acceptance of his past had torn down his walls, and he hadn’t been able to resist her. Even now, the memory of their soul-stirring kiss sent a hot sizzle up his spine. Yet he was also assailed by second thoughts. Was he taking advantage of her innocence? Was he being fair to her? Was he acting in her best interests?

  His chest tautened. She deserved a better man, one who wasn’t damaged goods. Some fin
e young chap who would court her with poesies and an untainted heart. Instead, she would have Ben: an older man with a filthy past and even filthier desires.

  If his dream was any indication, the kiss and conversation with Livy had obliterated his denial. He could no longer ignore the desire she ignited in him—could not fool himself into believing that his feelings for her were in any way brotherly. The truth confronted him: he wanted to do dark, depraved things to her…and he wanted her to love it.

  His gut twisted; his cock throbbed. Christ, I am a bastard.

  I am perfectly capable of deciding what I want, her voice reminded him.

  Wry humor punctured his grim mood as he realized that, even in his head, his little queen bantered with him. Yet she did have a point: she should be the one to decide her future. She might be young, but if any woman knew her own mind, it was Olivia McLeod. She was not short on opinions, nor shy about sharing them. He trusted her to tell him if she found him unacceptable, a fact he found oddly relieving.

  His job was to present her with the facts. When he called upon her today, he would tell her the other sordid details of his past: the catastrophe of his marriage and his opium habit. His neck tightened, and he rubbed at the corded muscles, wondering starkly if she would decide that he wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “I could never forget you,” Livy had once vowed. “I will always be here for you.”

  He’d been promised forever before. On his wedding day…and look at how that had ended. Before that, during the halcyon period of his childhood, he’d believed that he would have the love and support of his parents and sister for all his life.

  He had ruined that too.

  As much as he wanted to believe that Livy was different, he had to be realistic. She might be too young and innocent to give him what he craved, the fantasies reality had pulverized. Yet the ashes of his dreams were still there, hope buried in the Pandora’s box of his life, taunting and tantalizing him in equal measure. A part of him feared those needs, for they made him vulnerable…weak.