A Scandalous Wager Read online

  He knelt and removed her shoes, throwing them negligently over his shoulder before massaging her foot. Smoothing his hands up her leg to the end of her stockings, he undid her garters and skimmed his fingers over the smooth skin of her upper thighs. He rolled down her stockings while kissing his way down first one leg and then the other. All the time she watched him. He seemed to be very dedicated to his task, intimately stopping to kiss the inside of her knee or the arch of her foot. She had never felt anything like it and she never wanted it to end. At the same time she was excited by the prospect of what else he would do to her.

  She had no idea what he was thinking. She hoped he wasn’t thinking at all. She so desperately wanted to feel tenderness. She wanted to feel the joy of copulation, not the fear of fornication that she had felt for so long.

  ‘Stand up, my beauty,’ he said.

  She did as he asked. He smiled as he looked up at her, kneeling in front of her, still wearing his pants.

  ‘Just a little tug and…’ Her chemise fell to the floor to pool at her feet.

  Oliver’s mouth went dry. He sat back on his heels and absorbed the naked beauty of her. She was Venus, Athena and Aphrodite in one. It was cliché, he knew, but his brain wasn’t functioning with any great clarity right now. He was running on testosterone. Seeing her like this, naked and reclining seductively against the bedpost he felt even less worthy of her.

  He hoped this would not be his only chance to be with her, to show her how it could be, how it was supposed to be.

  She gave him a slow, lazy smile. Encouragement or dare? Was she daring him to stay? If only she knew how needless that look was. He was hers, had been since he first laid bloodshot eyes on her all those weeks ago, even if it was only now that he was realising it. Even if it was for this night only that he surrendered to her—body and soul.

  He was still on his knees, so he kissed the inside of one of her thighs, making his way back up her body while she clutched the bedpost and made the most beautiful of sounds. When he put his mouth to the juncture of her thighs, the place where heaven resides, she simply uttered, ‘Oh!’ Then, ‘Oooh my God!’

  It was music to his ears and he wanted to hear the whole symphony. He was sure the perfect melody was inside her just waiting for him to play the right notes. He held her to him and began to play. It wasn’t long before the crescendo began and she writhed above him like an out-of-control violin. Her hands were the conductor instructing him where to place his tongue and how much pressure she desired. Her final note hovered in the air like a ghost and then disappeared as she collapsed back against the mattress, breathing heavily and clutching at her chest, her eyes wide with wonder as he looked up at her.

  ‘I see you enjoyed that?’ He couldn’t help but feel a measure of arrogance.

  ‘Pardon?’

  It seemed she was not quite back from her ascent just yet. ‘Never mind.’ He began to kiss her hip, intending to kiss his way up to her mouth and everywhere in-between.

  It was on his travels up her beautiful, mesmerising, and completely enchanting body that he noticed them. They were so faint he wasn’t sure he was really seeing them at first. They were small silvery lines across her lower abdomen. He knew what they were, how one got them. He looked up. His question must surely have been clear. She was staring down at him with a grief that quickly filled her eyes. He saw her blink the tears away.

  ‘He died,’ she said softly.

  ‘How?’ he asked without thinking.

  ‘I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you are thinking!’ She put her arms around her belly trying to hide the scars as if cradling the memory of her child. Her face turned away from him.

  ‘Of course not! You must have been devastated.’

  ‘Does it really matter?’

  Well, no, he supposed. It did make him wonder how she had survived everything that had happened to her and not gone to Bedlam long ago.

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter,’ he said.

  ‘Influenza. It was influenza,’ she said moving away from him, her voice hitching with emotion. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nathaniel blamed me, of course. I had produced a sickly child. If he had just let me…’ She hid her face in her hands.

  ‘Lisbeth?’

  She looked at him, hard. ‘He took my baby away from me, Oliver!’

  The look of defeat on her face filled him with such anger. He curled his fingers into fists at his sides to control the urge to punch the bedpost beside him.

  ‘My baby was dying and he…he would not let me see him. He said I was a bad mother. He said I didn’t deserve to kiss my son goodbye.’ The total devastation of her experience was etched in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. It was all there for him to see, the pain, the suffering, and the guilt of not being able to be there for her child.

  ‘I begged to let me see him. I sat outside the nursery and beat my fists on the door until they were bloody,’ she explained, while silent tears slipped down her cheeks and her hands made fists.

  ‘I listened at the door as his cries grew weaker. I sat there, imagining I was holding his…his little hand in mine. I promised him I would never leave him. I would let no door prevent me from loving him with all my heart. After he passed away I stopped caring, about anything or anyone—including myself. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I think it made Nathaniel despise me more.’

  Oliver swallowed the rest of his questions and kissed her belly. Laying his head against her stomach, he hugged her lower body. No one should have to endure the death of a child. Between them they shared too much death and grief.

  Lisbeth was stunned and moved by his actions. She bent over him and kissed his head. Ran her fingers through his hair. He was kneeling at her feet. He was kissing her stretch marks—all she had left of the little boy she had loved so much and held in her arms for so little time.

  He didn’t seem appalled, as she had thought he would be by yet another terrible, shameful truth from her past. He kissed her belly button. He looked up at her from his place on the floor.

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Daniel.’

  ‘I don’t care what Blackhurst thought of you,’ he said. ‘It only matters how much you loved Daniel while he was here. I am sure he knew how much you loved him, despite everything. How much you still care about him even now. Just like I care…about you.’

  Tears threatened again but she somehow kept them at bay. She did not deserve a man like Oliver. He made her feel good when all she’d felt for years was sad or mad or both. Lately she had just stuck to mad. How had this all happened? She was naked with a man who was not demanding she fight him off. Or pushing himself into her in the darkness uninvited. He was waiting, even now, for her to give him permission to love her. She didn’t know quite what to do. She felt so incredibly humbled. How had she ever thought him stupid and witless?

  Physically, she wanted him like she had never wanted a man before. Emotionally, she needed him like one needed safe harbour against a storm. With him she had felt her confidence return. She could battle any storms if he was beside her.

  Lisbeth took his hand and urged him up onto his feet. She kissed him, wanting him with every beat of her heart. A heart she had thought would never beat with love again. Love? No, it couldn’t be. It was just her emotions getting confused—easily done in such a circumstance. Oh, but he was wonderful and her heart swelled with affection when she looked at him.

  Oliver smiled down at her. ‘We all have scars, Lisbeth. I’m sure you have seen that I have a few of my own.’ She had noticed, but on him they did not seem as shameful as hers. It was to be expected, she supposed, for a man who had fought in many a battle to have some war wounds.

  ‘See this one here?’ He pointed to a rather nasty looking scar on his right side. ‘Sabre.’ He then showed her a round puckered scar on his shoulder. ‘Lead shot. Had a fever for three days.’

  ‘I want to know all about your time in the military,�
� Lisbeth blurted out, reaching out to caress the dent of his shoulder wound.

  He looked up surprised. ‘Now?’

  She laughed. ‘Not this very minute…’

  He kissed the inside of one of her elbows, distracting her completely.

  ‘Good, because I need to make love to you, Lisbeth. Right now, in fact. There are certain parts of the male anatomy that are very impatient.’

  ‘Really?’ She smiled.

  He pulled her into his embrace. ‘Really.’ He kissed her long and hard. Less hesitant now, less controlled. He picked her up and laid her on the bed, climbing on after her. She opened her arms to him and he gave her his cheeky half-smile before settling himself between her thighs.

  Oliver framed her face and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Have you any idea how beautiful you are?’ She blushed and shook her head. These were not the type of words she heard in relation to herself. She would not have believed them from anyone else but Oliver.

  He rested his forehead against hers and she felt him nudging at her opening. She tensed for a moment but then he kissed her and drew her legs up around his waist. ‘Trust me.’

  Lisbeth closed her eyes.

  ‘No, don’t shut me out. I need to see that you want this too. Do you want me, Lisbeth?’

  She wriggled underneath him, unable to say the words aloud, trying to show him how much she wanted him to press deep within her. When she finally opened her eyes and looked into his she saw the concern there. Knew it was all for her. Tonight she had promised herself so much and now she could see it was time to make true on those promises. Tonight he was hers and she was his. She would entrust him with her body and her heart. Just for tonight.

  ‘Yes. I want you. Please, Oliver, make love to me.’ She clutched at him wanting him closer.

  He plunged deep, filling her, and an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. There was no pain, just the fullness of him inside. As he moved within her, slowly, languidly, building their pleasure. Lisbeth knew then, with a clarity she had never known before, she did love him. She had tried to deny the truth but the evidence of her feelings drummed through every part of her. It filled up the empty spaces within her, creating something wholly new and wonderful.

  Sensation slid over every nerve and fibre. Her skin tingled from her scalp to her toes, centring on that place between her legs that was currently occupied by a man who, at times, made her question her sanity. Sanity be damned! Her body was floating in a bliss that could not be denied. Heat curled within her, her body moving without conscious thought. Climbing and coaxing, yearning and needing what only he could give her.

  Sounds escaped her that she had never heard before. Oliver responded to her moans with grunts and growls of his own. Like before, when he had kissed her between her legs, the pleasure inside her made her writhe and buck beneath him. The pressure, the feeling, the loss of all reality grew until she nearly screamed in frustration. Then it hit her. The most amazing, wonderful vibrations took over her body. She gave in to pleasure, every nerve in her body twitching with it. The fulfilment of every promise he had made to her. He shouted her name as he pulled out of her just in time.

  The shock of his withdrawal made her gasp. Lisbeth knew how hard the retreat must have been for him. Oliver distracted her with his lips and she soon forgot everything but him.

  They kissed each other tenderly. And though no words were spoken they both knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

  Chapter 14

  ‘Lisbeth, you can open your eyes now. I know you are awake.’

  There was amusement in Oliver’s tone. Had her reluctance to fully wake been so obvious?

  She touched him tentatively, like he might just turn into a puff of smoke and disappear before her eyes. ‘You are still here.’ It was more a statement than a question.

  He raised a brow. ‘You seem surprised. Did you really think I would leave you?’

  ‘That is what men do, don’t they? I mean, afterwards?’

  He laughed at that. ‘Only the stupid ones.’

  His smile warmed her all the way to her toes. She reached up to capture his face so she could give him a good morning kiss. And it was a good morning, the best morning of her life.

  He gathered her reassuringly in his arms. ‘I’m not leaving, at least, not for another hour or so,’ he assured her.

  Oliver kissed her with the enthusiasm that she had benefitted from last night. Gentle but sure, confident but not overbearing. She felt him swell against her thigh. A feeling of great satisfaction flowed through her even as her limbs turned to melted chocolate and her heart picked up pace in anticipation of what was to come. She was able to make him react like that. She had the power to turn this strong man into a slave to her every whim. What’s more he wanted to give her the chance to discover her desire, her sensual self as a woman. She had already learnt so much from him, but knew that she could have a lifetime and not learn everything there was to know about him and herself.

  He made love to her less gently than last night, in no doubt now of her response. He wasn’t rough but the power of his strokes brought her body into sharp relief. She matched him stroke for stroke, kiss for kiss and caress for decadent caress until they were both shuddering and gasping each other’s name.

  ‘You were made for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘Only you,’ she replied, holding him tightly to her.

  She had no idea where these new feelings for him would lead but for now she just wanted to feel his weight on her, hear his words of encouragement, and make love to the man who had brought her back to life.

  He held her for a while, the two of them safe and secure in a world all their own, but eventually, as she knew it would, reality returned.

  ‘Lisbeth?’

  ‘Yes?’ She curled more closely to him even though his chest hair tickled her nose.

  ‘I need feeding.’

  ‘What?’ She struggled to open her eyes.

  ‘You have quite drained me, my love. I need food and a hot cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. I’ll ring the bell.’ With that she slipped from the bed, forgetting completely she was naked as the day she was born, until she heard him groan and say, ‘Forget the bloody bell and get back here. Next time, I’ll ring the bell myself.’

  Lisbeth could only smile as she looked over her shoulder to see the evidence for herself. It was a most gratifying sight. He crooked his finger at her. She smiled and dropped the bell pull. He smiled as she started walking back to the bed, slowly so he could take his fill of her nakedness. She surprised even herself at her boldness in front of him.

  When she reached the bed his eyes were dark pools of desire. She crawled onto the mattress but he stopped her from lying down.

  ‘Do you like to ride, Lisbeth?’

  ‘That’s an odd question at a time like this.’

  ‘Let me rephrase. Would you like to ride me?’ He took her hand and guided her until she was sitting astride him. She was in no confusion as to his meaning then.

  ‘I’ve never ridden a horse like this,’ she said to him as her hands came down to rest on his chest.

  ‘There is a first time for everything, my dear. Besides, I’m not sure it can be done side-saddle. We could always try that later if you wish.’ With that he pulled her down for a kiss.

  She guided him inside her and was surprised at the exquisite fullness she felt. With his hands on her hips he showed her the way, and it was bliss. She rode him, slowly, then fast and then slow again. She rode him until her body contracted in climax. She flung her head back and let out a satisfied, ‘Yes!’ He shuddered beneath her and she collapsed happily and fully satisfied on his chest.

  ‘You ride very well, Countess,’ he drawled.

  When her stomach gurgled with hunger they both laughed and laughed and laughed.

  ***

  They spent most of the day in easy conversation with each other. Oliver told her stories of his days in the army, many of whic
h she found hard to believe and she found herself horrified that he had been in so much danger while decoding messages. He had a knack of making most of them sound implausible and she found herself laughing more than she had in a very, very long time. His stories had not all been humorous. Oliver recounted many a dirty campaign in the field, but he did not give too much away. He’d seen men die—many had been friends—and she sensed a deep sorrow within him for those that had lost their lives.

  They did not talk of Nathaniel. That she had been grateful for. She had no wish to think of him ever again. They did not discuss Oliver’s brother, Henry, either. He was not ready and she would not push.

  Eating breakfast together was a…novel experience. Lisbeth couldn’t stop blushing and Oliver kept winking at her between sips from his teacup. She tried to keep up a serious façade for the sake of the servants but it was nearly impossible. They moved to the parlour and finally they were alone and she could relax.

  Oliver was obviously enjoying himself. He looked so relaxed sitting back against the chair and idly reading the newspaper. Nathaniel had never taken any meals or tea with her. She had always been alone.

  ‘So, my dear Lisbeth, are you going to give me my copy of your schedule?’ he asked behind The Times he was reading.

  Lisbeth gasped, surprised. She had been debating on whether to give it to him or not. She still felt its comforting pull but had tried to fight the urge to carry on as normal. In the end the schedule had won.

  Still behind his paper he laughed, then bent the paper in half, top to bottom and looked over the top half. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you leaving my bed in your bare feet?’

  ‘I did not want to wake you. And it is my bed, thank you very much.’ She felt the blush return to her cheeks.

  Oliver ignored her attempt to censure him. ‘I assume you have the whole twenty-four hours planned out, although I don’t recall having your wicked way with me last night being on your precious schedule.’

  She blushed again.