Page 72 of Mesmerized

And then his mouth encircled her nipple, pulling it into the hot, damp cave, and Olivia groaned at the exquisite pleasure she had been so urgently waiting to feel. She moved against the sheets, sighing, as he loved her with his mouth, pulling insistently at the hardening bud, caressing and lashing it with his tongue. And then, when she thought the pleasure in her could not possibly grow greater, his hand slid down her stomach, easing at last between her legs and seeking out the damp, pulsing center of her femininity.

She jerked, letting out a muffled noise of surprise and hunger, and opened her legs to him. Where he touched was like satin fire, and she writhed beneath his hand, digging in her heels and pushing upward against his palm. She moved her hands over his back, the feel of his skin and underlying muscle exciting her even more. She wanted to feel him everywhere, to taste and touch him. Her fingers were halted by the waistband of his trousers, and she slipped beneath it, seeking more. He groaned and moved away.

She gasped at the loss, reaching out for him. Stephen quickly divested himself of the encumbrance of his trousers, shoving them down and off his legs, and then he moved back over her, settling his mouth on her other breast and working the same magic on it. Olivia slid her hands over the sharp outcroppings of his hipbones and down the sides of his hips, curving back up and caressing, then digging in with her fingertips.

Urgently he moved her legs apart, his fingers opening her, exploring the slick flesh and slipping inside. She moaned, moving against him. He caressed the fleshy nub hidden between her nether lips, and his fingers moved within her, widening and stretching her. Olivia whimpered, aching for release. Never in her life had she felt this way—wild and feverish, primitively surging with desire. She ached for him at the very center of her being, longing for a fulfillment she could only guess at. This, she knew, was what she had waited for all her life. This moment. This man. This heated, hungry urgency.

Then he moved between her legs, his hands sliding beneath her hips and lifting her. She arched, the tension in her almost unbearable, as he slid slowly, carefully into her. Pain tugged at her, but it could not breach the onslaught of pleasure as he filled her. He moved within her, slowly building the passion until it was raging inside them, screaming for release. Olivia cried out as desire burst within her, pulsating outward in wondrous waves of delight. He shuddered, and his mouth came down to cover hers, drinking in the taste of her as he rode to the violent, explosive crest of his passion.

He collapsed against her, then rolled to his side, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her with him. Olivia lay with her head resting on his chest, his arms encircling her. Stephen pressed his lips against the top of her head, and she snuggled closer. They did not speak, merely lay in silent contentment. Olivia felt bonelessly relaxed and warm, satisfied to the depths of her soul. No thought, no problem, intruded as she floated in a halcyon realm. For the moment, there was no past love haunting Stephen, no mediums and séances, no ghostly women gliding the hallways of Blackhope or intruding on one’s dreams.

There was simply lying in the arms of the man she loved.

* * *

OLIVIA AWOKE SLOWLY the next morning, drifting to consciousness by degrees, then lay for a long time, savoring the pleasant happiness that still hummed within her. A smile crept across her face as she lay there, remembering what had happened the night before—the joy, then the gentle contentment of lying in Stephen’s arms afterward. After a while they had talked a little, whispering to each other, smiling, chuckling easily. They had said little of import, but it had meant everything to her.

She had been falling in love with Stephen almost from the moment they met, she realized now. Despite all the peculiar things that had happened over the past few weeks, she had arisen every morning eager to face the day. She knew now that it had been because she would be spending the day with Stephen.

Olivia had ignored the feelings rising within her until last night, when the realization had exploded within her, the tidal wave of emotion washing over her with as much force as the physical feelings had. She loved Stephen, and she hugged the feeling to herself.

She was much less certain that he returned the feeling, but that was not a matter which she wished to explore. It was enough for the moment to know that he felt passion for her, that he wanted her with the kind of raw, elemental need he had expressed last night. She had no wish to examine whether his feeling for Pamela had been greater than what he felt for her and even less desire to wonder how much of his feeling for her was simply the holdover of passion that they had experienced in their dreams of the medieval lovers.

All she wanted at this moment was to revel in what she had.

Olivia rose at last and went to her mirror, wondering if she looked as different as she felt inside. There was, she saw, something new in her face, a sparkle in her eyes, a faint flush to her cheek, a certain softness to her features, that had not been there before. She hoped it would not be as visible to others.

Joan came in to help her dress, and Olivia relaxed a little when the woman made no comment about how Olivia looked. Olivia went to the wardrobe to choose her dress for the day and stood for a moment, contemplating them. She wondered, with some irritation, why she always dressed so plainly. When she returned to London, she thought, she would purchase new dresses, colorful things that suited her mood.

She chose the prettiest of her day dresses, and when Joan fixed her hair atop her head in an artful arrangement of curls, Olivia made no protest. She went downstairs, rather pleased with the way she looked.

She was not sure what she would do when she saw Stephen for the first time today. She was afraid that a smile might break across her face with such a glowing intensity that everyone would guess what had happened. She felt a little shy and very eager, all at once. What would he say to her? How would he act?

It was a relief to walk into the dining room and find only Stephen there. He was seated at the table, sipping a cup of tea, and he jumped up when she came into the room, a smile lighting up his face.

“Olivia!” He came around the table, and for an instant she thought he was going to take her into his arms, but then his gaze flickered over to the footman standing beside the sideboard, and he hesitated, then merely held out her chair for her.

He remained behind her chair for a moment, and his hand brushed briefly over her shoulder. He walked back around to his own chair, saying, “Would you care for some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The footman was beside her chair immediately, pouring her a cup, then retreating to his post. Olivia looked across the table at Stephen, glad there was no one else here to witness her smiling at him. She could not seem to control her face. If anyone had been here, she felt sure that they would have guessed immediately what had happened.

They went to the sideboard and dished up their meal, then sat and ate, chatting as they did so about the most mundane of subjects. It scarcely mattered to either of them what they said. All they wanted was to look at each other. Olivia wondered if he would come to her bed again that night, and even as she did so, she saw a light flicker in his eyes that assured her he would. She colored and looked down at her plate, smiling to herself.

Rafe came in after a time and joined them. He seemed to notice nothing unusual and made conversation in the same easy way he had the day before, inquiring politely how Olivia had slept. Olivia had to clamp her lips shut tightly to keep a giggle from escaping, but she managed to nod and return a polite reply.

They were, apparently, the last to come down to eat, for no one else joined them. After the meal, the three of them made their way through the great hall to the formal drawing room, where the footman had said Lady St. Leger was waiting for her guests.

They were somewhat surprised to find only Lady St. Leger in the room, and she explained that though she had breakfasted with Lord Moreland and Belinda, she had not seen them since.

“Lord Moreland, I believe, wanted to see the library,” she said, and Olivia chuckled.

“Yes. I am sure that he will spend most of his time there. My great-uncle is a dreadful guest, my lady, if you wish conversation—wonderful if what you desire is solitude,” Olivia told her.

“I find Lord Moreland quite charming, my dear,” Lady St. Leger said with a smile. “He is such a knowledgeable man. There is scarcely a topic about which he cannot talk.”

“And what of Belinda?” Stephen asked.