Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

But Olivia wanted to be more than Nic’s dessert.

She reached up, clinging to his neck, and he lifted her into his arms and sank back into his chair with her cradled in his lap. She tried to catch her breath, but her stays were tight beneath her evening dress. He seemed to understand her difficulty, and ran his hand down over her waist, splaying his fingers.

“Will I take it off?” he said.

“What if someone comes in?” She glanced anxiously at the door.

“No one will come in, my sweet. They know better than to come into one of these rooms without making a great deal of noise.”

Olivia’s desire began to fade, leaching out of her like water from a wrung-out rag. “You’ve been here before?” she asked carefully.

“Yes.”

“With other women.”

“Of course.”

She went still, and then she pushed herself to her feet, turning her back as she dealt with her bodice and the sticky juice smeared across her chest. The napkin, dipped in a glass of drinking water that had somehow survived her tumble on the table, helped to remove most traces of her debauchery, and when she was finished, she turned to face him. He was still reclining lazily in his chair, but there was something watchful in his face that belied his easy manner.

“You’re jealous,” he said, but it was a question rather than a statement.

“No. I don’t think so. Not in the way you mean.”

He waved an impatient hand. “Then what?”

Olivia sighed. “I don’t want to be another one of your women, Nic.”

He looked into her eyes. “You’re not.”

“Perhaps. At least, not yet. But I’m afraid that before long I will be. Just another in a long line of companions you hire for a year and then set free. Like—like caged birds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Nic stood up and he looked angry, his hair untidy from her fingers, a swath of it hanging over his eyes, his lean cheeks flushed. “You’re my wife. I don’t hire you, and I’m hardly likely to set you free, as you call it. That won’t happen.”

“How do I know? You bring me here and I feel as if—as if—”

As if I am no more special than the others.

And Olivia knew with heavy certainty that she wanted to feel special when she was with Nic.

Nic knew he’d done something wrong again.

A moment ago Olivia had been writhing in his arms, a woman in the throes of undeniable passion, and the next moment she was looking at him as if he were a stranger.

He wanted to please her, and he’d thought this was the way to do it. Now he didn’t know what to do. Apologize? Or give up on understanding her altogether?

“I want to go home,” she said, in a voice that trembled on the verge of tears.

Nic groaned. Not tears. Women’s tears were the invention of the devil, designed to force men to grovel in an effort to make them stop. He’d have to apologize then…

“Olivia, please, if I’ve done something wrong, forgive me. I only wanted to make you happy. I didn’t intend to upset you.”

She stopped at the door and turned to look at him.

“Yes, I have brought other women here, but I can’t even remember their faces let alone their names. I wanted to bring you because I knew you loved strawberries and I knew we would have some privacy. When I’m with you I have trouble behaving myself, you know that. I don’t want to cause another scandal, so I thought—”

She was smiling. Devil take it, she was smiling! Nic wondered what part of the rambling sentences he’d just spoken had made her smile. And then he decided he didn’t care, as long as she was happy again.

“Come home, Nic,” she said huskily, holding out her hand. “We can be private there, and I can even ask for strawberries to be served in our bedchamber, if you like.”