Sara Bennett (6 page)

“I know you can, Lil,” she said gently. “I’m sorry I put you in such a difficult position with Mrs. Russell, but I had to see Lord Montegomery.”

“I understand, miss. The shelter means the world to you.” Lil began to help Vivianna to undress. “But all the same,” she went on quietly, “you need to take care. This Lord Montegomery could have done anything he wanted to you, and me and Mrs. Russell would have been none the wiser.”

He
had
done what he wanted to her, Vivianna thought, trying not to blush before Lil’s sharp eyes. He had touched her, and kissed her, and held her against his body. And she hadn’t struggled, not one bit. She had pressed back against him, and sighed, and moaned when he kissed her. She had enjoyed it. She had wanted more.

“Miss?”

Vivianna shut out the images. “I thought he would be sympathetic, if only I explained properly, but…” She shook her head in despair. “He doesn’t care, Lil. He doesn’t care what happens to the orphans.”

Lil touched her arm gently. “They reckon you can’t change a sow’s ear into a silk purse, but if anyone can teach him the error of his ways, miss, then it’s you.”

An unwilling smile curled Vivianna’s mouth. “Thank you, Lil.”

“Now come and get warm by the fire, miss. You’re cold and damp, and you need some hot milk.”

Vivianna allowed herself to be fussed over, sinking
back into the chair and lifting her feet toward the flames.

Persuade him.

Her smile vanished. That was what the woman had said tonight, the beautiful older woman with intelligent dark eyes called Madame. Vivianna did not pretend she did not understand how that persuasion was to be affected—to kiss him and let him kiss her, to touch him and let him touch her. Employ her feminine wiles.

Except that Vivianna had never used her feminine wiles before. She did not even know whether or not she had any. She had always considered herself a bookish, serious girl, and that feminine wiles were for pretty little creatures who knew nothing about poverty and abandonment, and cared less. And yet Oliver Montegomery had looked at her as if he saw something in her that she had not known was there. Until now.

Persuade him.

Was it possible?

Vivianna had once heard a lecture on women and their imprisonment by society. The speaker put forward the idea that society expected women to appear pure, fragile, helpless, and always defer to the greater knowledge of their menfolk. And if they dared to be different, or worse, if they lived the sort of life a man might lead, then their reputations would be destroyed and they would be cast out. Out into the darkness that forever circled the bright light of polite society and was inhabited by the fallen women and the adulteresses and those who were too willful to be borne.

She did not believe it at the time—
she
was different and
she
had not been cast out. But now she realized that she was just as bound up in the rules as all the
other women of her class and situation. Seeing those girls at Aphrodite’s had given her a glimpse into another world. Not that she wanted to be an…“abbess.” Was that what the hackney driver had called Madame? No, she didn’t want that. But neither did she want to marry a man like Oliver, just so that she could have him kiss her whenever she wanted him to.
Men
did not marry to gain such experience. There was an entire area of womanhood that she had never really thought about before, never imagined it was possible for her to enter unless she married.

It was all very intriguing….

But
that
would have to wait, Vivianna told herself, coming back to earth with a thump. Tomorrow she must call upon the Beatty sisters, to hear their grievances and discuss what they could do to save the shelter. Or, if worse came to worst, where they could shift the orphans temporarily. It was possible her friends had come up with a new plan, something that did not involve the use of “feminine wiles.”

A sharp pang of disappointment stung her, but before she could question it, the sound of raised voices elsewhere in the house interrupted her thoughts. It was Helen and Toby. Vivianna shivered. In haste, Helen had married a charming, handsome rake, thinking she could change him, and now she repented at leisure. Under no circumstances would she ever allow herself to fall under the spell of such a man.

Vivianna was up bright and early the next morning, despite her long journey south and her late and eventful evening. She had promised to go to Candlewood as soon as possible and see the Beatty sisters, and she knew they would be waiting for her. Poor Miss Greta
and Miss Susan, they must be beside themselves with worry.

She had dressed in another of her plain, practical gowns and was sitting impatiently while Lil tended to her hair, when one of her aunt’s maids came tapping upon her door.

“Miss, there is a gentleman to see you downstairs in the sitting room. Lord”—and she glanced at the card in her hand—“Oliver Montegomery.”

Vivianna felt herself go cold, and then hot. With a brilliance that had only previously been reserved for dreams, she recalled last night in the room at Aphrodite’s, and the feel of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath on her face, the brush of his mouth against her lips.
I have an urge to lick you all over.
Her breath caught and then resumed with a soft gasp.

Lil was staring at her accusingly.

“I…very well, thank you. I will be down in a moment.”

The girl bobbed a curtsy and retreated. For a moment Vivianna refused to meet Lil’s eyes, but Lil was better at this than she. “You told me nothing ’appened,” she said, and pinned the final piece of Vivianna’s hair in place. “I can see that’s not true, miss. You’re on fire, you are. What did that beast do to you?”

“He’s not a beast,” Vivianna retorted primly. “At least, not the ravening kind of beast. More a smiling, charming, very handsome kind of beast. He kissed me, that’s all. I didn’t struggle. It was nice, and I had never been kissed before, at least not by someone like Lord Montegomery.”

Lil shook her head. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“No, I’m not. I know what I’m doing, Lil. Believe me, if for one moment I thought I was going to fall in love with the man, then I would have a long look at Uncle Toby and Aunt Helen—that would cool my passion.”

Lil’s wry smile was agreement enough. “Do you want me to come down with you, just for company?”

“No, I will be perfectly all right. He can hardly ravish me in my aunt’s sitting room, can he?”

Lil’s look was ambivalent, but Vivianna laughed and, checking her appearance once more, made her way downstairs. Her steps slowed. She began to wonder what he wanted. They had parted as enemies last night. Had he come to apologize? To beg her pardon and tell her he would be only too pleased to cede to her request?

Somehow she did not think so. There had been nothing of capitulation in his face when she closed the door behind her last night, only that irritating and victorious smile.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Vivianna smoothed her skirts, took a breath, and went into the sitting room.

He was standing with his back to her, peering out of the window. The second time she had come upon him in that stance—evidently it was habitual for him.

“My lord?”

He turned, a smile on his lips, and bowed in a negligent and yet elegant manner that Vivianna was certain could only be achieved if you were from one of the oldest aristocratic families in England.

She had thought that she must have imagined the effect he had had upon her, but now, seeing him again, she knew that she had exaggerated nothing. It was the strangest thing, but she could feel her blood slowing,
like a warm, languid river, gliding through her body and under her skin. And yet her heart was racing like a railway carriage down a long, straight track. Most peculiar. Oliver Montegomery might be the type of man she had always sworn to stay clear of, but her body had plans of its own.

“I came to make certain you had reached your home safely—” Oliver began.

“How…how kind of you,” she said.

“—and to wish you safe journey back to Yorkshire.”

Vivianna’s eyes narrowed. “I am not returning to Yorkshire just yet.”

“Pity,” he retorted.

“In fact, I am planning on an extended stay.”

“Best stay away from me, then,” he said, his eyes fixed meaningfully on hers, “or you’ll spend it in places a lady usually avoids—for instance, on your back.”

Vivianna straightened her already straight spine. “I know you think to intimidate me by speaking in this caddish manner, my lord, but you can’t, so you may as well desist. Besides, I believe that lying upon one’s back is only one of the ways in which…Well, I am sure you don’t need instruction from me.”

No hysterics, no fainting, no cries of maidenly distress, and certainly no promises to leave London and never return. Vivianna Greentree simply reminded him that there were other ways of making love than on one’s back. Oliver laughed—he couldn’t help it.

He must have been insane, coming here. There she was, staring him down with those brilliant hazel eyes, shining a light into his soul. He felt like he should shield himself from her, protect himself with bell, book, and candle, and at the same time he recklessly didn’t want to.

“You’re wasting your time,” he managed, and propped himself against the back of an armchair, as if he were still too intoxicated to stand.

“Well, it is my time to waste.” Her brow wrinkled faintly and she took a step nearer. “How did you know where I was staying?”

He smiled in triumph. “You gave me your address for the hansom cab, remember?”

“Of course!” Her frown cleared. She looked about her as if the room were new to her. “Can I offer you some refreshment, my lord? My aunt is not yet risen, nor my uncle, but as you have been thoughtful enough to call, I am sure they would not object.”

She was offering him refreshment? After what he had just said to her? Oliver shook his head in bewilderment. “No, I will not stay. I am in need of something stronger than tea, Miss Greentree. You have that effect upon me.”

Isn’t it a little early for strong drink?
He could see the question in her eyes, but she did not speak it aloud. In a moment she would be lecturing him on the joys to be found in abstinence.

He had hardly slept at all last night, but still the dawn had found him wide-eyed and alert. His mind had been full to overflowing with the unusual, the interesting, the delectable Miss Vivianna Greentree. He had found himself going over their encounter again and again; he had found himself remembering the passion and the determination in her eyes.

This, he had realized, as the street sweepers got to work outside his window, was a woman who felt deeply. Who would not give up her mission without a long and protracted battle. In short, she was going to be a right pain in the arse. Why then did he find that trait so admirable and so fascinating?

And yet he did, and more than that. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss the life out of her. Put his hands all over her and make her moan, make her cry out for more. One moment his thoughts were on a higher, intellectual plain, and the next he had become completely carnal.

God help him, was he going mad?

“Miss Vivianna Greentree,” he drawled, and it was nectar in his mouth. “I do like your name.”

“Oh, do you, my lord?” She looked startled, as well she might, but pleased, too. And suspicious, as if she knew very well he was playing a devious game with her.

“Call me Oliver, I beg of you,” he said, and his irritation was genuine. Having come to the title of “my lord” late in life, after many years spent simply as Mr. Oliver Montegomery, he had never gotten used to it.

“I am sure that for me to call you ‘Oliver’ is most improper,” she replied, and her lips pursed prettily.

“I feel improper,” he murmured, and stepped closer, and was secretly amused by her obvious determination not to step back. “I like your face, too. Particularly your mouth, oh yes, I like your mouth. And I like your—”

“I…have you had second thoughts, my lord…Oliver? About Candlewood? I thought perhaps you had had time to reconsider. Overnight. I am to see the two Miss Beattys today and it would be a great relief if I could offer them some hope.”

He gave up.

“No, Miss Greentree, I have not had second thoughts.”

“If only you would—”

“Damnation, don’t lecture me, woman!”

She stopped, her mouth open, her breath coming fast. He had startled her, he saw, but not frightened
her. He doubted even a charging elephant would frighten Miss Vivianna Greentree.

“I am trying to make you understand that—”

He groaned. “There’s only one way to stop you, isn’t there?”

She blinked. “Is there?”

Her skin was like cream, her pupils were dark, her lips soft and sinful. Oliver took her shoulders firmly in his hands, leaned in, and kissed her. Desire reared up, struggling to break free, but he held it on a firm rein. “This is why I came,” he said, plundering her mouth again. “And this….”

After her initial surprise, Vivianna kissed him back. She even went so far as to wrap her arms about his neck and cling on.

“I don’t trust you,” he ranted. “Not for a minute.”

“Then why—”

“Stop talking.” He sent his tongue exploring the warm depths of her mouth. And damn her if she didn’t return the favor, mimicking him, unashamedly enjoying herself. Just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it, Oliver drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked on it. She did the same with his, turning his body to hot, rigid steel.

He clasped her bottom through the thickness of skirt and petticoats and drew her up on her toes, then pressed her hard against the place that most needed it. He could imagine making love to her and doubted he would survive the experience.

Oliver groaned into her mouth and then almost wept as she arched herself against him, a living candle in his arms. That was when Oliver knew he couldn’t hold on to that rein much longer; in another heartbeat the horse would have bolted.