“He cannot know you very well, can he, if he thinks you will be obedient?”
She ignored that. “Did my reputation really not matter a jot to you?”
Oliver smiled to himself, and reached down to unfasten the basket. The tabby cat stepped out onto the rug and began to wash himself, as if he had expected nothing less than a new home in Berkeley Square.
“It really didn’t. You are far more to me than who or what your parents might be or have done.”
“Oh.”
“Vivianna, before you came into my life, all I thought about was my brother and avenging his death. I didn’t dream of the future; I didn’t imagine I might have a life after Lawson was punished. But you changed that. Suddenly I could see that I did have a future, and I wanted it with all my heart, because you were in it.”
Vivianna stepped closer. “But you are a hero now,” she said quietly. “The newspapers admire your dreadful waistcoats—they have become quite the fashion. Women swoon in the street whenever they see you.”
He laughed. “The only woman I want to swoon when she sees me prefers to lecture me instead.”
“Oliver…”
“I hope you’re not going to abandon me now you are a wealthy heiress,” he went on, and his gaze was dark and sensuous. “I still need you. Maybe you don’t realize it, but I have always considered myself the black sheep of the Montegomery family. You have to save me from my sins, Vivianna. I desperately need the sort of redemption only you can give me.”
Vivianna caught her breath. “I would have thought you had become a golden sheep now,” she replied, eyes bright. “Rescuing the nation from the greedy hands of Lord Lawson, handing over Candlewood to the Shelter for Poor Orphans, saving Robbie Burns from a life on the streets!”
Oliver smiled.
“Giving me a truly remarkable night of passion,” she added softly.
His gaze sharpened. “Did I?”
“Oh yes.” She shivered at the memory, hugging herself. “I wake up from sleep and I’m remembering it so clearly. My body is alive with your touch, aching for you to be there in the bed beside me. But I’m alone, Oliver. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“Marry me, then, and we’ll have a night of passion every night for the rest of our lives.”
Vivianna smiled. “Yes, please. I love the rake in you, Oliver….”
Oliver’s heart sank. She loved the rake; he knew that. But there was more to him than the rake. He had hopes and dreams and ambitions that Oliver the rake could never imagine. Couldn’t she see that?
“I love the rake,” Vivianna said, and she was standing before him, gazing up into his eyes, “but I love you more.”
His lips curled into a lazy smile. “I’m going to kiss every inch of you,” he drawled.
Vivianna’s legs trembled, and with a laugh she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Oliver,” she breathed, feeling his warmth, his strength, the wonderful sensation of being held by the man she loved.
He looked down at her as if she were the only woman in the world for him. “I can’t live without you, you know that, don’t you? I crave lectures like o
ther men crave strong drink.”
“As long as you don’t mind about Aphrodite.”
“Hmm,” he said with a wicked smile.
“Don’t you dare say it!” Vivianna declared.
His mouth brushed hers, then stilled, and now they were both shaking. “Say what?” he whispered.
“Like mother, like daughter.”
“Promise me something, Vivianna,” he said, his breath warm against her lips. “That you will always be my courtesan. Mine alone.”
“I promise, as long as you will be my very own rake.”