The image made her dizzy.
Ask him now, before it is too late….
“Oliver,” she managed. “How much do you want me?”
His hand cupped the hot moist core of her, and his mouth stilled against her skin. “More than life,” he said.
“More than Candlewood?”
It was said. The words hung between them, and she knew. As soon as they were said, she knew. This wasn’t the right moment, this wasn’t it at all.
Vivianna had just made a most dreadful mistake.
Chapter 13
He looked up at her, his dark eyes blurred. He was stunned. His dark hair tangled and untidy, his necktie askew, his face flushed with passion. One hand was still upon her breast, the other cupping her between her legs. He blinked, slowly, regaining his composure.
“The shelter. Of course.” He shook his head. “Of course.”
And then he stepped back from her and left her cold.
The applause in the theater was growing, and she realized that Act Two must be over. With shaking hands she began to straighten her clothing. The hooks of her bodice were a problem, but she could use her shawl to cover herself. She may look somewhat less well turned out than she had before, but in the crush beyond the door, no one would notice.
Oliver stood a moment and watched her make her repairs, his hands loose by his sides, and then he laughed without humor, and began to jerk his coat back into shape and smooth his cravat.
“I thought…” He shook his head. “My mistake, Miss Greentree. I have long suspected where your real passions lay, now my suspicions have been confirmed.”
Vivianna licked lips that were suddenly very dry, but she had gone this far. It was too late to back out now. “You say you want me, and in return you will not reconsider extending the lease on Candlewood? You cannot want me very much.”
He smiled, a polite mask through which Oliver’s eyes glittered. “I am surprised you have stayed a virgin so long, Vivianna. Or perhaps you are not? Perhaps some Yorkshire worthy has got there before me?”
She slapped him.
The sound of the blow was hidden in the applause, but Vivianna saw his head swing to one side with the force of it, and the red mark bloom upon his cheek.
She had never struck another person in her life, and now she felt sick. Wretchedly sick with anger and hurt. Protect your heart. It was too late, too late….
Vivianna made her voice flat—if he could play a part, then so could she. “You’re just like Toby, aren’t you? A rake who cares nothing for anybody but himself.”
He looked at her, and then he smiled. That lazy, reckless smile that struck her to the soul. “And you are just like Aphrodite, aren’t you? Selling yourself for gain.”
“The shelter isn’t—”
“It may as well be an emerald or a ruby.”
“Believe what you like,” she hissed.
“Oh, I will,” he said grimly. “Believe me, I will.”
She marched toward the door and wrenched it open. Vivianna exited the box into the crowd.
The audience was spilling out from their boxes to chat and sip champagne. Supper was being served. Although the opera was finished, there was a ballet to be performed for those in the crowd who wanted to maked the most of this “occasion.”
But Vivianna knew that, for her, the evening was over.
She felt as if her life were over, too, but it could not be that bad. No, she told herself bleakly, she would rally. A few weeks ago she had not even met Oliver Montegomery. He could not possibly mean so much to her in so short a time.
Oliver follow