She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Where is my son now?”
Oliver studied her face. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to unravel the reason why she fascinated him so. Perhaps because he saw she had two sides. The happy one she shared with others, and the one he saw most often. “He’s playing in a deserted room in the east wing. We stumbled on a replica model of the abbey. The boy finds it fascinating and wished to remain to study it.”
A frown creased her brow. “He has other chores to do today.”
“Yes, he did mention them but I wondered if you might spare him for work in the east wing. My grandmother’s apartment is large but uninhabitable as yet. I thought we might work together to clean it up.”
“You’re proposing to spend even more time with my son?”
Oliver snorted. “Outside of the servants, quite possibly it will be my paltry efforts that set the rooms to order rather than his. I imagine the model will claim his attention for a good long while yet.”
A frown line appeared between her dark brows. “Why would you do this?”
“I like the room.”
Elizabeth shook her head suddenly. “No. Return him to me. You can play at being interested in the abbey with someone else. I knew this was a mistake.”
The anguish in her tone made his pulse increase. Oliver tightened his grip. “The boy says you cry at night. Why?”
She struggled to get away from him and he let her go reluctantly. She backed toward the door as if afraid of him. “Nothing in my life is of concern to you. Go away, Oliver. Go off on your adventures and leave us alone.”
Confused by her words, Oliver followed as she tugged on the door handle. She turned when she discovered the door wouldn’t open and he kept her against the door. He touched her arms and then bent his knees so he could see her face. “Why are you always so upset with me?”
She met his gaze and scowled. “Indifference is better than turning into a bully. Release me.”
But Oliver couldn’t seem to do that, nor ignore the way her eyes had grown glassy-bright when she spoke. “There is no reason to cry.”
“No, of course. None at all.” Her voice cracked on the last and he cupped her jaw. When her face turned up to his, tears slid down her cheeks unabated.
He searched her expression for clues, but could see no sign of why she was upset. He was only trying to help the boy become a wiser man. He’d never understood her disapproval. He doubted he ever would. But right now he couldn’t bear to see tears streaming down her face. He cupped her face with both hands and wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Shutting him out.
The warm body against him shook and he moved closer to offer comfort. But Elizabeth’s hands thumped against his waistcoat and held him back when all he wanted was to hold her against him. Her teeth clamped on her lower lip, heightening his confusion. The action reminded him that it had been a very, very long time since he’d lain with a pretty woman, and the one in his arms fit that description perfectly.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes again, Oliver dipped his head and kissed her.
Chapter Eight
ELIZABETH FROZE, STUNNED to be in Oliver’s arms like this. Her heart rejoiced but her mind screamed. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This was not supposed to happen. He did not care for her at all. Yet Oliver’s lips played over hers in a soft, compelling dance, making her vow to forget him impossible. Making her need him. His fingers cupped her skull, sliding into her hair and battering her defenses. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but his lips were sinfully skilled.
They shattered every belief she held that this man could never feel passion.
He moved closer, pulling her deeper into his embrace and his warmth burned through her gown as if she were naked. The touch of his hands against her upper back grew firmer and he teased the seam of her lips with his tongue until she let him in. A soft moan escaped her at the first stroke of his tongue across hers and she curled her hands about his neck, knowing she was making the second biggest mistake of her life.
She should not succumb to this madness but her body had other plans. She tightened her grip around his neck, curved her body to lie against his, seeking more as she kissed him back hungrily. His hands slid to the small of her back and eventually curled over her bottom. With a deep groan, Oliver jerked her hard against him, lifting her feet from the floor while pressing her against the door. His legs wedged between her skirts, their hips aligned. Beth broke the kiss and turned her face away.
She struggled for breath as Oliver’s mouth seared the skin of her throat. He nibbled and nipped, sending her senses soaring. But this was not what she wanted. She was not the kind of woman to seek pleasure in a cold man’s arms. When it was over, she’d have even more reasons to cry herself to sleep at night.
After a few moments, Beth pushed against his shoulders. Eventually, Oliver ceased kissing her skin and allowed her to regain her feet.
When she faced him, he wasn’t smiling. “Is that better?”
Beth gaped. His eyes were dark pools that stripped her down to bare skin, his lips were flushed but pressed firmly together. To think he’d had his tongue in her mouth and still couldn’t appear happy took her breath away. She shoved hard against his chest to regain perspective. Even at a distance, he appeared dispassionate. “I think I preferred it when you ignored me.”
His brow creased with a frown and before he could offer more cold words to follow such a devastating kiss, she blindly reached for the doorknob, turned the key this time, and threw the door open.
Lady Venables was waiting on the other side. “The duchess requests your presence in the drawing room, Mrs. Turner.”