Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls 3)

“Not yet though.” He wriggled free of her embrace and rolled her onto her back. The smile he bestowed took her breath away. “We’ve only just begun.”

Given the urgency of the kiss that followed, Beth concluded Oliver might not be finished with her for some time yet.

Chapter Seventeen

OLIVER HAD TRIED not to think about last night seventeen times before he gave up and returned to his memories of Elizabeth’s glorious body held firmly against his. His wicked thoughts and plans for further encounters were so much more interesting than the cold hard facts in his book about Italy or his plans to leave Romsey. Not that he’d let on exactly when he would go. The less his family knew, the better. They couldn’t punish his ears with their pleas or wound his eyes with their stricken expressions. Without their disapproval dogging his every moment, he could consider how to lure Elizabeth in his arms once more and hear her sob his name as passion claimed her.

And if he didn’t think about leaving, he wouldn’t be considering what life might be like if he stayed.

He closed the book and tossed it with the other discarded tomes, sure he was on the verge of making an ass of himself. Elizabeth had been very clear that she’d come to him for one night and that was all he could reasonably expect. Reason, however, had disappeared with the first sight of her beautiful body. He longed to locate her and do something incredibly rash and irrevocable right now.

“What has you so out of sorts?” Leopold grumbled, paper rustling between his hands as he turned the pages. “You’ve not stopped huffing since I found you here.”

He focused on his brother. He couldn’t possibly tell him the truth—Elizabeth would not like that, so he scratched around in his mind for a likely excuse he could utter that would prevent further discussion. “A calculation about the length of my trip.”

As hoped, Leopold rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his paper.

But Oliver wasn’t so easily appeased. Several nights, if he could persuade Elizabeth of the necessity, might not be long enough to satisfy his hunger for her kisses and her perfect body. He’d come undone, all his carefully considered opinions that passion was something he could live without were under threat.

He stood and left the room without a word to Leopold, wandering aimlessly into the drawing room to cool his ardor. He had never believed he needed intimate relations to be content with his life. The path of an adventurer was one of determination and purpose. Surely one night with Elizabeth had been enough to last a lifetime.

But then he heard Elizabeth’s voice ahead somewhere and his body hardened all over again as lust gripped him. He followed the sound of her voice until he reached the long hall. She stood outside a chamber, arm moving as she described what she wanted done. Wedding plans for the duchess by the sounds of it. Given her enthusiasm for the subject, she’d likely be busy for hours.

He approached slowly, admiring the body snugly hidden beneath a demure dark wool gown. She faced him and her eyes wid

ened, her breath catching in surprise. Desire sparked in her eyes and then quickly vanished, hidden by wariness and modesty. She dipped into a curtsy. “Good morning, sir.”

He eased closer, eyes dropping to the neckline of her disappointingly modest gown and then lifting to her soft lips. His pulse raced anew. One night had not been sufficient to banish his need.

Eamon Murphy’s head poked through the doorway and into the hall, immediately halting Oliver’s plans to touch and kiss Elizabeth. He schooled his features to show only curiosity and expressed his question to his oldest friend. “What do you do here?”

Eamon lips quirked. “Candelabras. We’re on the hunt for several large ones, gold, that her grace remembers from years ago.”

“The east wing attic has two, the closet attached to the ballroom has three, and there are more elsewhere should they be required,” Oliver supplied quickly, keen to send Eamon off on an errand that would take some time.

Beth and Murphy’s brows creased in unison. “There’s a closet off the ballroom?” They said it at once and then suddenly looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Confused by their sudden camaraderie, a closeness he had not detected earlier, Oliver nodded slowly. He held his hand out to Elizabeth. “I can show you the ballroom closet if you like.”

Instead of taking his outstretched hand, Beth faced Eamon. “Get the ones in the east wing attic and have them polished properly. I’ll see what else this closet Oliver mentioned contains and if it could be of any use. We haven’t much time.”

When Eamon hurried off, Beth looked at him expectantly, one brow rising. “This place needs a map drawn and a proper accounting taken of its possessions. The things we have stumbled across today in the strangest places boggles the mind. Thank you for your offer of assistance.” She smiled suddenly and his whole body tightened in anticipation of any small moment he could share with her.

“My pleasure,” he said, thinking of her body flush and warm against his last night and her hands tugging at his hair, urging him on. “This way.”

He briefly touched her back and then let his hand drop away. “Why are you scouring the abbey in search of candelabras? I thought you were no longer housekeeper.”

“The duchess has graciously allowed me to render what help I can.” She smiled up at him. “I don’t mind. Every woman enjoys weddings.”

“Ah,” he murmured as he opened a door and allowed her to pass before him. But her comment brought a question to his mind. Had she enjoyed her own wedding to Turner? Had Turner been a good husband and lover? When he glanced at her again, he decided he’d rather not know. If she missed Turner then he would be viewed as a paltry replacement and Oliver rarely liked to be second in anything.

He led her deeper into the house. Listening to the soft tap of her slippers beside him brought a smile to his lips. He almost had her alone, but rather than act intimately in the hall where anyone might see, he elected to wait until they reached the ballroom before he touched her again. The closet off the ballroom was private, secluded from casual observation. He could kiss her there and no one would ever know.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty ballroom, their shadows danced across the floor to the beat their feet tapped out. He looked ahead and caught their reflection in the mirrored wall ahead. His steps slowed. Beside Elizabeth, he appeared ancient and his chest tightened. He’d lost his youth because of the duke’s treachery, but he’d lost the path to Elizabeth as his wife all by himself. For the first time ever, he doubted the life he’d chosen for himself. He’d spent all morning wishing to be alone with Elizabeth and it was unlike him to be so obsessed by lust.

His enthusiasm for seduction waned. What had he been thinking yesterday? Making love to Elizabeth, becoming involved in her concerns, was not the way to live an independent life. She continued ahead and the gap that grew between them in the reflection gave him pain. What had changed in him since yesterday?

Elizabeth swung around to see what kept him. “Oliver?”