Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

“You what?” he prompted, pressing his lips to the pulsepoint at her throat.

“I…need you. Now.” And forever. But that, she knew, was nothing more than a moonspun dream.

“And I need you,” rasped John. “More than you can imagine.”

“Then let us celebrate our bond, and offer up our spirit of friendship as an homage to the local deities,” said Olivia. “So that they will favor us with good fortune on the morrow.”

“I…” A hesitation hung for an instant on his lips. “I agree.”

Perhaps it was the shadowy starlight or some unseen midnight magic casting a spell over their bodies, but their lovemaking was far softer and slower than their previous coupling.

The nighttime darkness wrapped them in velvet, smoothing their touch to a gossamer lightness. Olivia brushed her fingertips through the coarse curls of hair on his chest, vowing to memorize every nuanced shape of his skin, every chiseled contour of his ribs and muscle.

John inhaled sharply as she trailed her hand down over his flat belly and found his manhood. Satin and steel. Hard and soft. The pulsing of heat against the curl of her palm made her want to weep with joy for the present moment, and longing for…

No, I will not think of that.

Closing her eyes to the sting of salt, Olivia drew her caresses up and down his length, reveling in his masculine beauty. The perfect hero.

His breathing quickened, his body tightened in response to her touch. With a wordless groan, he seized her wrist, and then she was beneath him. Arching up, she opened herself to his gentle thrust.

Their rhythm had a desperate tenderness. No words, no sounds, save for the beating of their hearts.

She crested and came with a silent shout, and an instant later his essence spilled in a silvery pool on the folds of the blanket, its pale glimmer like liquid moonbeams.

The gentle crackling of the coals drew John out of a deep reverie. The flames had died down to naught but a mellow glow of red-gold gleaming through the dark ashes. And yet, a warmth still filled their small shelter within the stones.

Olivia stirred as well, and gave a feline stretch. “The Road to Perdition is a good deal more enjoyable to travel than the road to Exeter,” she murmured. “Especially as I was damaged goods to begin with.”

John rolled on his side and drew her close. “Enjoyable indeed. But you must not think of yourself as chipped or cracked by the ride. You are whole in every way that matters.”

“That is very sweet of you. But the truth is, most people will think me a broken vessel.” She made a wry face. “Ruined beyond repair.”

John made a show of carefully examining her face from all angles. “Hmmm, everything seems perfectly formed to me.”

The firelight accentuated the flush of pink now coloring her face. She ducked her head. “It is not a jesting matter, John.”

His smile disappeared. “No,” he said softly. “It is not.”

“I don’t care for myself,” Olivia said softly. “But I must not do anything to hurt Anna or Caro’s chances of making a good match.” She blew out a breath, the pale plume of vapor curling up into the darkness. “I should be able to dodge a scandal over this because of your sister and the fact that she is willing to help cover up our travels with the excuse that I was her guest at Wrexham Manor while you were away. But once we return to London, I think it best that we don’t see each other. It might stir unwanted gossip.”

“On the contrary,” he replied. “To be crass, Olivia, my dancing attendance on you would only raise interest in your sisters. The ton

is easily influenced by the glitter of a title and money.”

“You could make it fashionable for rich aristocrats to court penniless nobodies?”

“You are not a nobody, Olivia,” he said a little angrily.

“It was a figure of speech,” she replied. “Thank you, but I should not like to ask such a sacrifice of you.”

She turned her head, and a tumble of auburn curls fell down to curtain her face.

Hide and seek. Questions and conundrums.

Sensing that Olivia was loath to say anything more for the moment, John lay back and looked up at the stars. Their light shimmered and winked like countless points of fire, and he found himself drifting into a reflective mood.

Were there answers to life’s complex conundrums hidden within the random patterns?