Page 38 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)

Pressing soft kisses against each nipple, she continued her journey south, knowing one day, she would strip Philippa bare and worship every inch of her naked skin.

But today, she would be content with this.

Gathering Philippa’s skirts, she pulled them up her long legs, loving the contrast of black leather boots against pale, muscled calves.

When they were bunched around her waist, Olivia let her gaze take in the glory.

A dagger was tied high on Philippa’s thigh, and Olivia’s clitoris pulsed at the contrast of deadly steel pressed against such vulnerable skin.

She flicked her thumb over the sharp edge. ‘I suppose I shall have to be careful.’

‘Very careful indeed.’ But Philippa wasn’t talking about her dagger, and Olivia’s heart cracked even wider.

‘People sometimes forget how delicate a strong woman can be. I won’t forget. Ever.’

Philippa tipped her chin, granting Olivia permission.

Olivia held Philippa’s heavy-lidded gaze for a moment, acknowledging her submission before dropping her view between Philippa’s thighs to the dark thatch of hair covering her vulnerable centre.

Pink lips peeked from their secret cove, glistening with Philippa’s sweet essence.

Olivia’s nipples tightened as her channel clenched.

She pulled up her own skirts, exposing herself to Philippa’s gaze as she boldly rubbed the aching bud demanding friction.

Philippa’s eyes widened, her pupils blown.

‘My God, Olivia.’ Her husky voice spurred Olivia onward.

She worked herself with one hand while the other stroked Philippa’s inner thigh until she found her slit, wet and waiting.

Slipping a finger into her tight opening, she coated herself with Philippa’s nectar and lifted her finger to her lips, savouring the taste as she continued to stroke herself, knowing the sight was only fuelling Philippa’s need.

Philippa started to move her hand, but Olivia’s sharp look stopped her.

She shook her head and tsked. ‘Naughty girl. Put your hands back or I shall stop.’ Adding weight to her threat, she started to let her skirts fall back into place, but Philippa immediately returned her hands over her head.

To wield such power over a woman whom no one controlled was exhilarating.

Olivia pulled her dress up again and continued her decadent task of self-pleasure.

‘Well done.’ She traced back along Philippa’s silky skin, dipping one finger into the duchess’ channel, then another, finally a third.

As she swirled her middle finger around her own clitoris, she pressed her thumb against Philippa’s, sliding in a slippery circle.

Curling the fingers embedded in Philippa’s body, she coaxed the duchess higher.

When she found a rhythm that made Philippa’s breath come in halting moans, Olivia nearly lost control of her own pleasure, but she clenched her teeth and held off as her fingers plunged and plundered, her thumb continuing its unrelenting circles.

Philippa held her breath and Olivia knew she was close.

She curled her fingers harder, pressing down with her thumb as her own climax rippled through her.

Philippa cried out as Olivia let herself shatter, knowing she wasn’t alone.

They broke together, fragments of their hearts fusing into each other until Olivia couldn’t determine where she ended and Philippa began.

* * *

Philippa came back to herself in slow degrees.

As she did, certain truths crystallised.

She was irrevocably in love with Olivia.

She was also completely at a loss as to what she should do about this.

With Liza, it had been so easy. They had been friends since childhood, and their deep affection seamlessly transitioned into romance with no risk of rejection.

But her love for Olivia was nothing like her love for Liza. Which was a revelation.

Damnation. Edward was right. Love is not a pie. Remarkable.

Because she wasn’t taking her love from Liza and giving it to Olivia. This was something entirely new. Something only Olivia could inspire within Philippa. It was uniquely theirs.

Olivia had righted her clothes. She wore the smile of someone who knew their own power, and Philippa found herself warming all over again. Nothing was more desirable than a confident woman.

‘You look quite proud of yourself.’ She refocused on her own clothing, rebuttoning her gown over her still-wet shift. The memory of what Olivia had done to her breasts was enough to make her fingers stall and her nipples tingle.

‘I am. I believe this bout goes to me.’ Olivia lifted her hands over her head in an exaggerated stretch. ‘I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of physical combat.’

Not able to stop the snort of laughter, Philippa regained her feet and brushed out her irrevocably wrinkled skirt. ‘I certainly hope you don’t plan on engaging the enemy quite like that.’

Olivia’s face grew serious. ‘No. Just you.’

Before Philippa could think of a response, a smart knock sounded, followed immediately by Stokes opening the door. The insufferable man didn’t wait to be called in, and Philippa arched her brow at him, wishing for a rapier.

‘Has your senility reached a level where you’ve forgotten a servant waits to be admitted into a room? What if we were engaged in something scandalous?’ She glanced at Olivia and fought a smile.

Stokes exhaled through his nose. ‘Your Grace has yet to shock me, despite the many scandals I’ve seen, swordplay and fisticuffs notwithstanding. I doubt that will change now.’

Philippa blinked.

Surely he’s not giving me permission to engage in scandal. As if I need his approval. A duchess does not seek the permission of her butler.

Stokes straightened his military spine even further.

She was certain she heard it crick in the quiet room.

‘I thought you might wish to see this rather urgently.’ He stepped closer, holding a silver tray in front of him bearing an envelope with the seal displayed.

Philippa didn’t need to look at the writing to know who sent the missive.

This letter didn’t carry the distinctive head of a crow, body of a wolf, and tail of a snake. Instead, it bore the crest of the Lord High Chancellor. Yet they both knew the leader of the Devil’s Sons was sending a message.

Philippa plucked the note from the tray as one might pick up a dirty sock. ‘Ah. A letter from your brother. How lovely.’

Olivia’s flushed cheeks paled, and her eyes grew wide with fear. Just for that, Philippa wished to eviscerate the Lord High Chancellor with a very dull butter knife.

‘Shall I have the cook prepare some tea and sandwiches?’ Stokes asked helpfully.

Which was something the man had never been in all the years Philippa knew him.

‘I shall bring them to the front parlour, Lady Winterbourne, as I’m sure the two of you will be more comfortable there.

’ He had also never cared a whit about her comfort.

She raised an eyebrow at him and wondered if he planned to put more than just whiskey in her tea. Perhaps a dram of hemlock.

‘That would be lovely, Stokes. Thank you so much.’ Olivia seemed to have collected herself and sent the butler a warm smile.

Stokes turned a shade of pink more likely to be found on the frock of a young miss than the complexion of a staid butler.

Is Stokes blushing? What the Devil is going on here?

‘Of course, Lady Smithwick.’ Stokes tucked the silver platter under his arm, nodded to Olivia, turned, and swiftly left the ballroom.

‘What have you done to my butler?’ Philippa knew they should be looking at the note, but certain mysteries required immediate solving.

Olivia shrugged. ‘Nothing. He came into the library the other day to bring me tea, and we chatted for a moment, that was all. He isn’t nearly as terrible as you make out.

Did you know he’s an avid fan of penny dreadfuls?

We had a delightful discussion on whether Varney the Vampire or The String of Pearls had a better antagonist. I’m more partial to Sir Francis, but Stokes liked Sweeney Todd.

I suppose it’s a matter of blood or flesh.

’ Olivia’s eyes strayed to Philippa’s neck before she blinked back into focus and looked at the note.

‘I suppose we should open that. God. I hate how frightened I am of a bloody piece of paper. Hardly Damsel material, am I?’

Philippa couldn’t answer. Not without revealing more than she wished.

Because Olivia was far more than just a worthy candidate for becoming one of the Queen’s Deadly Damsels.

She was the only woman Philippa could imagine spending the remainder of her days with.

But blurting out her undying love for Olivia while discussing a threatening letter from her brother, the Lord High Chancellor of England, who coincidentally led the most insidious ring of sex traffickers in London and was also keeping Olivia’s daughter hostage, hardly seemed ideal timing.

She would wait until the mess with Lord High Chancellor Hardgrave was sorted.

Then she would declare her love for Olivia.

Hopefully cosied up in front of a roaring fire with whiskey in their hands. Naked. A much better scenario.

‘There is no shame in being frightened. What’s more important is what you do in spite of your fear.’ Philippa wanted to pull Olivia close and hug her tightly. Instead, she flicked open the note and read it. With each word, her anger increased.

‘What did he say?’ Olivia’s voice was taut with anxiety.

Philippa handed it to her. ‘Read it.’

Olivia’s eyes darted over the words.

‘He’s demanding you hand me over. Oh, God.

If you don’t, he says he will be forced to inform the Queen that the Duchess of Dorsett is harbouring a fugitive to the Crown.

Philippa, he’ll destroy you.’ Olivia’s face crumpled.

‘He’s doing this because you went to Victoria.

He must know we are planning something at the ball, and he is trying to force your hand. ’

‘Mad men are often also geniuses of a kind. We should have expected him to retaliate. I underestimated him.’ Philippa tapped her finger against her lip, thinking of their options.

Olivia handed the letter back to Philippa. ‘You must do as he asks, Philippa.’

Philippa recoiled at the very idea. A duchess did not cave to the demands of anyone. Certainly not this insidious bastard. ‘Acquiescing to a bully only makes him bolder.’

Olivia shook her head, her hair falling around her face in disarray.

‘You don’t understand, Philippa. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

To defy him puts Hyacinth at risk. He has me exactly where he wants me.

Powerless.’ Olivia swayed on her feet, and Philippa feared she might faint.

‘We must do as he demands. I’m not worth ruining your reputation.

I’m certainly not worth the life of my daughter.

If we do as he asks, mayhap he will promise to keep Hyacinth safe. ’

Philippa gripped her shoulders and squeezed, holding her steady and meeting her stricken gaze.

‘Men like your brother never keep their promises, Olivia. You know this. But I keep mine. I promised I would get your daughter and bring her to you, safe and well. I asked you to trust me before, and you said you would. Does that still hold true?’ She held her breath, waiting.

Olivia blinked, a tear breaking free and tracking down her cheek. ‘Yes. I do. Of course I do, but Philippa, if we fail…’

Philippa pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

‘We won’t. We can’t.’ She held onto her rage with tenuous control, not wanting to frighten Olivia further.

How dare this man threaten her woman? How dare he make someone as fascinating, powerful, and important as Olivia feel insignificant?

She would rip his throat open and bathe in his blood.

Pulling away, she forced her lips to curl in a smile she feared was more feral than friendly. ‘Come, let us enjoy our tea and discuss how best to move forward.’

She nearly reached for Olivia’s hand. She had to clutch her skirts to stop from doing so as she turned and led them out of the ballroom. There would be time for tenderness when the Crow was caught. For now, the duchess needed to keep her armour strong and her blades sharp.