Page 48 of Her Heartless Duke
Olivia rather liked to think that Lady Willow, as eccentric as she was in her choice of entertainment, enjoyed the notoriety that went with holding such shows. The younger set would no doubt find these novel amusements exciting, while the older ones—like Lady Morton—could only rail against the heavens to protest the impropriety of it all.
As the curtain closed on the first act, her eyes quickly swept over the audience, feeling a slight disappointment in her heart when she failed to spot the familiar broad shoulders amongst them.
And then, she saw him.Staring back at her.
Olivia felt warmth steal up her cheeks accompanied by the familiar fluttering in the pit of her belly as she watched his lips curl into a slow, sensual smile. It was as if heknewshe was looking for him amongst the crowd and he took some sort of pride in that very fact.
He cocked his head subtly to one side and she nodded slowly.
“Fi,” she murmured, turning towards her cousin. “I would like to, ah, get some fresh air.”
“Oh, all right. I can accompany you…”
“Oh, no! I will be perfectly fine on my own,” Olivia reassured her cousin. “I shall be back before the next act, I assure you.”
Her cousin did not look too convinced and neither did her aunt.
Lady Bennet frowned. “It will be quite some time before the next act starts. Fiona can accompany you.”
“Oh, no,” Olivia shook her head. “I could not bear it if Fiona were to miss a part of the show on my account. Do not worry, Aunt Joana, I shall be back before you know it!”
Before her aunt and cousin could protest further, she stood up and made her way to the aisle at the center of the theater that led out to the back.
Outside, there were refreshments being served and elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen milled about, discussing the first act of the show.
Olivia moved further away into the back until she came to a door that led to a balcony outside. She closed her eyes briefly as the cool breeze swept gently past her cheeks, teasing the wavy golden tendrils that had been allowed to frame her face.
When she opened them, she saw Isaac’s familiar figure standing a short distance away from her, his hands braised on the stone balustrade. He turned around when he sensed her presence and that familiar slow smile of his had her heart lurching in her chest.
“Hello, Olivia.” His voice was dark and rich, like velvet and chocolate and all sorts of sinful things.
Quietly, she walked up to him and returned his smile. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
“I trust that you have been enjoying the night’s entertainment?” he asked her softly.
“Oh, it is rather unusual, to be sure,” she grinned at him. “But convention is dreadfully boring, is it not?”
He stepped closer to her. “I rather dislike convention.”
Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at him. They were so close, standing toe to toe, chest to chest.
“It is rather like a stagnation of the mind,” she murmured.
His smile flashed against the dark night. “I knew you would share my opinions.”
He tilted her chin up and she could sense the faint fragrance on his breath. It was heady, intoxicating… and oh-so seductive.
“I should like to see if we share the same tastes in other forms of entertainment,” he murmured as his lips slowly descended upon hers.
Olivia knew she should have turned away and reproved him for daring to take liberties with her, but it had been a week since she had last seen him, and oh, how she had dreamed of being with him again just like this!
She threw her arms around his neck in wanton surrender as he kissed her deeply, his lips moving against hers in a seductive dance as she clung to him. His hands spanned her back, moving over her body possessively as if he sought to brand her very skin with the heat of his.
She let out a soft moan and he plunged his tongue into her mouth, the heat of it nearly scalding her as she submitted to his fierce passion, answering it with her own.
“Olivia, sweet Olivia,” he rasped against her skin, trailing hot kisses down her jaw.
His large hand encompassed her breast, squeezing the firm flesh through the layers of fabric until she arched into his touch, her body begging for more.