Page 25 of The Butterfly
This close, and with the moonlight shining on them, she could see the way his face flushed.
“Don’t ye? We both ken that’s the way things are … the way things have t’ be. There’s no need pretendin’ otherwise.”
“Do you think I like that things have to be this way?” she spat, shrugging out of his hold. “You think Ilikethe idea of being married off to a stranger without having ever traveled, or lived any sort of life, or experiencing passion? You think Iwantto give myself to a stranger … that I wouldn’t much rather give myself to you?”
His eyes widened, the cords of muscle in his neck straining as his shoulders went taut. “Stop sayin’ things like that.”
Raising her chin, she clenched her hands into fists, determined to hold her ground. “Why? It is the truth.”
He took a step toward her, then another, the moon casting shadows over his face and causing the scarred half of it to stand out in stark relief. “Because if ye keep sayin’ things like that, I’ll forget that I cannae have ye … I’ll forget and do somethin’ reckless.”
A shiver wracked her, and heat blossomed in her belly at his threat. It made the surface of her skin tingle and her palms grow damp inside her gloves.
“What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?”
He made a rough sound in the back of his throat, sending an answering pang of fear and longing through her in response. “Ye dinnae know what yer sayin’.”
“Yes, I do! I’m no longer a child and have had quite a bit of time to think about what I want and how I feel. I am not fourteen any longer, Niall. I am not that little girl who begged to be kissed. I have been kissed, and not just by you. I have had opportunities to discover if I might experience with any other man the sort of … rapture I have felt with you.”
He looked fit to kill as he loomed over her, his dark eyes simmering like hot coals, his mouth pulling into a sneer as if it enraged him to hear that she’d been kissed by someone else. There had only been two others—a footman, and the brother of a friend she had gone home with one holiday. Neither time had compared to what she’d felt when Niall put his lips on her.
“I always thought it was dreadfully unfair that Adam is allowed to go about tupping every whore in Edinburgh,” she continued. “Meanwhile,Iam expected to keep my skirts down and ignore the urging of my body until the day I wed. But, why must I do that, Niall? Why must I go find a husband without ever having known what desire leads to, what we could have had if we hadn’t been so bloody afraid?”
“This isnae about fear,” Niall offered in feeble protest. “Didn’t ye hear what I said? I cannae have ye, Livvie.”
“Not forever,” she agreed. “Not for long. But … but, what if you could for a little while? Even just once?”
He shook his head, though she could see he was losing hold of his will, the stalwart honor he’d clung to for years.
“Ye’d regret it, Livvie … and if ye regretted it, I’d never forgive myself.”
Resolute, she snatched off her gloves, tossing them aside before she began working to open the back of her gown. Her hands shook, but she forced herself to work through the trembling, to keep going lest she lose her nerve. She’d never been so bold—always allowing Niall to set their pace, to stop kissing her when he thought it was enough, letting him touch her on top of her clothes but never urging him to take things further. She had come to realize that if she were ever to experience more,shemust be the one to take the lead, to make him understand that it was all right for them to do this … just until it came time for her to leave and potentially never see him again.
“I could never regret anything with you,” she whispered, her voice strangled by anxiety, her stomach churning as her gown began to loosen.
“Livvie, stop that,” he admonished half-heartedly, his chest heaving with labored breath.
“I want you, Niall.”
The glimmer in his dark eyes as her gown fell to her feet spoke in a way words could not. Olivia had never felt as powerful as she did now, with Niall’s rapt stare settled upon her hands as she worked at her stays. She felt more beautiful than she ever had, with the moonlight bathing her from head to toe, the layers of her clothes falling away with soft, silken whispers.
“And I know you want me, too,” she added, pausing when she stood before him wearing only her chemise, stockings, and slippers. “Don’t you?”
He squeezed his eyes shut as if pained, his clenched hands shaking at his sides. “Ye know I do. I always have.”
Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead without giving herself a chance to back down. Pulling her chemise off one shoulder, then the other, she allowed it to fall over her body to the ground, then kicked off her slippers and stepped out of the pile of clothing. Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin and willed him to look at her, to see what she was offering.
Olivia remained aware that she was still young, that he’d probably been with women whose breasts were larger, or who had longer legs, or who knew how to do things she was still ignorant of. Yet, when he finally opened his eyes and looked at her, she understood that none of it mattered. He looked at her the way she’d always dreamed he would, his eyes all dark fire and heat, his lips parting as if in anticipation of tasting her. She had felt the hard ridge of his cock pressed against her many times—when he held her and touched her, when they kissed. She wondered if such a state had overtaken him now, if looking upon her naked body produced the same effect.
Realizing that he was not inclined to turn away, or force her to dress again, she reached down toward one of the garters holding up her stockings. He took a swift step in her direction, and she went still, her entire body tensing in anticipation of what he might do.
“Stop,” he whispered, his voice nearly imperceptible as he reached out toward her. “Keep the stockings on.”
She nodded, forcing a swallow past the lump that had risen up in her throat, hard and fast. He took another step, closing the short distance between them, his knuckles lightly skimming the soft plane of her belly. His touch tickled, but she dared not move, unable to do anything but stand there as he went on stroking her skin. He stared into her eyes and gave a slow, purposeful nod, as if coming to a decision.
“We do this my way.”
She furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to protest. One of his thick, heavy fingers came over her lips, silencing her.
