Soon enough, the sounds of the event faded when they turned several corners and found a dimly lit corridor. Only half the wall sconces glowed in a subtle signal of unwelcome. Oliver stopped, then opened a door, and motioned for her to enter first.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Demand, without apology, the things you need
Inside, the room was still and dark. Silvery moonlight trailed through a window, tracing black shapes of furniture, a piano, and a harp.
Oliver laid his hand at the small of her back as he shut the door behind him.
Silence solved nothing, and he seemed to be waiting for her to speak. “Caro received an invitation to your wedding today and brought it to the shop.”
“What? Oh, shit,” Oliver groaned. In the moonlight, she could barely make out the way he spun away from her and put his hands on his head.
“My reaction was more verbose, but yes. To add insult to injury, your wedding is on a Tuesday. ATuesday,Oliver! You toss off on Tuesdays, and we both know it.”
An entirely inappropriate snort of laughter came from his direction. “Toss off? How do you know that term?”
Constance rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her exasperation. “Please. I’m not some pampered society princess. Toss off, Box the Jesuit, Frig. It all means the same thing.”
“Holy fuck, I adore you, Constance Martin. But aTuesday? You imagined the most atrocious scenarios, I’m sure. I would too, if I held a bloody wedding invitation.”
“For an instant, yes. It was a flash, but in that moment, it felt possible you’d changed your mind about marrying Althea and hadn’t told me. Or that it had all been a ruse, and you’d lied to me in a deeply personal way.”
“You thought I lied to get you into bed?” Shock and hurt colored his voice, but she refused to feel guilty about the fears she’d harbored for a few terrible heartbeats.
“We spent the night together, returned home, then you disappeared. No messages. Nothing. Mind you, I didn’t suspect you of villainy for long, but seeing your wedding date—a Tuesday, Oliver—in black and white felt like a physical blow. I didn’t know what to believe. For all I knew, you might have fabricated your inexperience and have actually had scores of lovers. Since you’re quite good in bed, the theory holds weight.”
“Only you could so thoroughly insult and flatter me in the same sentence.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist. In the low light of the room, the shape of him was no more than an inky blot, so she was grateful for the connection of his touch.
“Lady Thompson chose a date, but I didn’t think to ask what it was. I’d just received word that my scheme to get out of the engagement had worked, so it didn’t signify. No one mentioned details about the invitations, or delivering them.” The brush of his sigh caressed her face. “I was so intent on finalizing details to escape, it didn’t occur to me that you might hear about the wedding date. I’m so sorry, my love.” Gentle kisses dusted her cheek, then over her eyelids. “I hate knowing I gave you reason to doubt me. Even if it was only for a second.”
Which was all well and good but didn’t answer thereal question at hand. Constance threaded her fingers into the hair near his nape, then tugged to look him in the eye as much as possible in the dark room. “Where’ve you been for the last few days, Oliver? You said you loved me, then disappeared. Some reassurance that you weren’t regretting everything we did in Kent wouldn’t have been remiss.”
“I could never regret anything about you.”
Even if his explanation showed areas from which they could learn to do better, she trusted he’d accept that lesson. They both would. So, this discussion was vital.
“You’re not marrying her?”
“Not if the king himself held a gun to my head. I’m not marrying Althea Thompson.”
The last of her worry quieted at his reassurance. When he dove in for their first real kiss of the night, Connie relaxed her grip on his hair.
Patiently, he teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him. Oliver’s relieved groan sent shimmers of desire waking through her. Within seconds, he’d hardened against her belly. Long fingers grasped her hip, holding her against his arousal.
However, even though she believed all would be well, Connie still asked for what she needed. “Answer the question, Oliver. Where were you? Don’t take advantage of my inability to focus,” she chided between kisses.
Oliver’s low chuckle made her warm all over. “Am I distracting? Is my desire to pin you against this door and sink into your delicious body scrambling your wits, my love?” His lips grazed her jaw. “Allow me to account for everything that’s happened since you last rode my cock and screamed my name.”
He clasped her bum and lifted her until their hips were flush. With a spin and a step, the unyielding wood of the door met her back, and she grinned against his mouth.
“First, Franklin Wellsley paid me a visit.”
Connie wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing the hard length of him more intimately against her core.
Oliver’s words were rough, but he continued, between kisses. “No matter what, I wasn’t marrying Althea. I asked you to trust me because some details weren’t finalized yet.” He felt along her calf until he found her hem. Pushing her gown up her leg, Oliver paused to trace a satin garter ribbon. Cool air brushed her bare thigh. “You’re so damned soft.”
