Page 56 of My Best Friend’s Earl (Bluestocking Booksellers #2)

Demand, without apology, the things you need

I nside, 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. A Tuesday, 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 a Tuesday? 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 the real 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. ”

“Focus, Oliver,” she teased. “Everything is final now?”

“Yes, thank God.” When those fingers continued toward her core, she stopped him with one hand.

“Days of silence, while I waited to learn what you’ve done. Explain.” Every wicked impulse came out to play during these intimate moments with him. While Oliver’s hand stayed where she’d stopped it, Connie dipped one finger into her slick heat.

He went still, then shuddered when she painted her liquid arousal across his lower lip. “You promised me a full accounting, and I expect one,” she taunted playfully.

“Fuck, you’re brutal.” He licked his lips, then dropped a groaning kiss against her palm. Constance ran the pads of her fingers over the planes of the face she loved so well, trying to memorize him by touch alone.

“Thanks to some vague language on legal documents, I tricked Sir William into giving Althea the land by the river, separate from a dowry.”

She froze. “The river? But what about your canal?”

The kiss he offered to soothe her dismay was gentle.

“And now it belongs to Althea and Wellsley. I’m going to be a partner in the canal, but the primary income is theirs.

Until it’s built, he’ll work with the steward at my estate in Cornwall, so Althea can be near her sister.

They’ll elope tonight to Scotland, then go straight to their new home. ”

A swell of love made her eyes go misty. Constance framed his cheeks with her palms and poured every ounce of admiration for him into her next kiss. “You’re a good man, Oliver Vincent.”

“What I am, is yours.” Oliver clutched the top of her thigh, with his thumb achingly close to her molten center. Constance moved his hand to where she wanted it, and they groaned in unison.

“Connie, love. Fuck, you’re wet.”

Her answer was an inarticulate needy sound. But Oliver was, if nothing else, an equal match to her devious teasing. She’d demanded an explanation for his silence since their return to London. Even as his fingers explored her slick heat, he continued to speak—albeit with a shaking voice.

“Before they leave, Althea will expose Sir William as the bully he is and make it clear that she’s chosen Wellsley. But we both know people might still place blame on her.” His words ended in a moan as she fumbled with the front placket of his breeches, then gripped his cock.

“People always talk. What will you do about it?” Constance nocked his erection at her entrance, but he held himself there, letting the anticipation build to a nearly painful degree.

“I gave the biggest gossipmonger in London a juicier morsel.” Oliver slowly sank into her, inciting a moan at the delicious stretch. “Hell, speaking of juicy…”

So Oliver had been the one to tell Bixby of their affair. Connie’s laugh made her clench around him and stole his senses momentarily. “What did you tell him?”

“I’m in love with a bookseller who stole my heart and rearranged my perfectly ordered world into chaos.” Thrusts punctuated his words. “Chaos. You’re a tiny teacup-size tempest who upended all my plans, and I fucking adore you for it. And now everyone will know I’m mad for you.”

“I love you too. God, Oliver.” Each push of their bodies coming together inched her higher against the door and closer to bliss.

The delicious movements slowed and she nearly whimpered. “I’ll never tire of hearing that.” His voice was a rasp in the dark. “I asked for blind faith, and you gave it to me. You really do love me.”

“Except for that minute when I wanted to kill you.”

“When you’re holding my bloody wedding invitation, you’re right to question me. But then what did you do? You asked for an explanation. Thank you.”

“I only demand answers if I love you. Otherwise, I’d be off in a field dancing naked under the moon and asking the fates to curse you with genital lice for the rest of your life.”

Oliver rested his forehead against her shoulder. “If I’m ever fool enough to think I can predict what will come out of your mouth next, you’ll prove me wrong within seconds.”

She grinned, running gentle fingers through his hair. “As I recall, you like my chatter.”

He met her gaze. Now that her vision had adapted to the darkness, it was easier to make out his features.

“I love your chatter. The way your brain works is a constant delight. So many thoughts, so many words. I don’t care if you’re speaking them, singing them, or screaming them. I’m here to listen.”

After that, she had to kiss him again. A loving, sweet kiss that immediately raged out of control. Oliver pinned her to the door with another deep thrust. “Say it again for me.”

A wide, joyful grin made her cheeks ache as she leaned her head against the wood, relishing how they moved together. “I love you, Oliver. I’m yours.”

“Mine. And I’m yours.”

Tension built in her muscles, tightening for that final flight into climax. “And you’re mine,” she repeated.

“Always. Now. Forever.” His breath grew choppy and the words came out strained as his pace turned nearly frantic.

Oliver vowing to be hers forever pushed Constance to the edge. As her orgasm overtook her, she dimly heard Oliver say, “Marry me. Please, love,” before his own peak claimed him.

She carefully stood on knees like jelly and struggled to gather her wits. “Did you just propose marriage?”

Oliver collapsed against the door beside her, gasping for air. He rolled his head and met her grin with his own.

“Why do you always wait for an orgasm to blurt out life-changing declarations?”

In the dark, she could barely make out his wink, but it still sent a frisson of heat through her. God, he was handsome. An amalgamation of parts that created exactly what she wanted. What she needed.

“I’ll take your critique under advisement,” he said.

Languid warmth filled her limbs, and for the first time all day her brain was nearly calm. “I think your cock might be magic.” She motioned toward her head. “All the noise is quiet.”

“Then marry me for your own well-being. Magical penises must be good for your health.”

She snorted, enjoying the peace of being right where she wanted to be.

“You laugh, but I’m quite serious.” Clothing rustled in the dark. A second later, he grasped her hand, then traced her ring finger to the tip. The cool press of metal nudged at her finger, and she gasped.

“Oliver?”

“I stopped by the shop to do this earlier, but you’d already left with Caro. Constance, I have two questions for you. First, will you marry me?”

She didn’t need a second to contemplate her answer. “Yes. Absolutely.”

A ring slipped onto her finger, and Constance thought she might burst from joy.

“Second question—and keep in mind, you may say no. Will you elope with me tonight? We can leave with Althea and Wellsley for Scotland.”

Constance pulled him into another kiss. “I’ll marry you any time, any day. Including tonight.”

At that moment, two things happened. A clock somewhere in the room struck the half hour, and Constance remembered she was supposed to be in the library. “Girls before earls! Damnit!”

Oliver, bless him, didn’t ask questions. He hurriedly set himself to rights while Constance did the same.

A peek down the hall in each direction proved there weren’t witnesses to their exit. When the hallway spilled into the more populated rooms, they stopped to take in the sight before them.

As if a wave went through the crowd, each table of guests paused what they were doing, listened to the chatter at the table beside them, then stood. A few truly committed gamblers stayed where they were, grumbling as others abandoned the games.

“It’s happened,” Constance whispered. “We need to get to the library.”

He gave her a speculative glance. “Are you ready to set the ton on its ear, Countess?”

Countess? That will take some getting used to. “At least it won’t be boring.”