This Marquess of Mine: (Romancing the Rogue Book 2)

Chapter Nine

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Olivia,” the Duke of Paxton whispered. “We could be seen.”

Ignoring his objections, Olivia herded him toward the rear doors with another tug on his immaculately tailored coat sleeve. “Lady Chavel is renowned for her roses, and I want to see them for myself,” she said, “but I don’t want to go alone. We’ll only be a few minutes. No one will even notice we’ve gone.”

With a resigned sigh, Paxton followed her lead and the two slipped from the ballroom, making their way into the darkened gardens beyond.

“This is not a good idea,” Paxton grumbled. “My mother would not approve.”

Olivia rolled her eyes but said nothing. Honestly, she was afraid of what she might say if she did speak. She loved the respect and adoration Paxton showed his mother, but sometimes she thought it was a little too much, especially for a grown man, not to mention a duke.

Lady Paxton was a formidable woman, yes, but she wasn’t Paxton’s keeper. He should be able to make his own decisions once in a while.

Thisdecision, however, to visit Lady Chavel’s rose garden, was all Olivia’s doing. Inspired by a certain marquess’s impertinent questions.

Because despite what she’d said to him last night at the opera, Griffin was right. It was odd that Paxton hadn’t kissed her yet, and she’d thought of little else since.

She’d had her fair share of kisses times, shared with several different men—a few of whom had even tried to steal a kiss the first night they’d met—but she’d known Paxton for months now and he’d made not a single attempt.

Whyhadn’t he kissed her yet? He was attracted to her, she knew that. So why did he not kiss her? Was he afraid of offending her?

She hadn’t a clue what he was thinking, but she’d decided the time had come to take matters into her own hands. There was nothing else to be done. If he wouldn’t kiss her, she would simply have to kiss him.

“Oh, look,” she breathed, pointing to the gardens beyond. “There they are. Don’t they smell simply divine?” She inhaled deeply, the sweet floral scent delighting her nose.

Paxton sneezed. “Oh, yes. Divine.” He sniffled.

“The moon is so bright tonight,” she said, gazing up at the sky, determinedly ignoring the snuffles and snorts from beside her. She tipped her head to catch the moonlight on one cheek and peered up at him through her lashes. “Quite lovely, isn’t it?”

He blinked, his gaze dipping to her mouth. “Erhm…”

She leaned in just a hair, not so much as to be the instigator, but enough to signal that she would not rebuff his advances should he choose to make any.

Paxton’s eyes were fixed on her lips, uncertainty warring with desire, and the silence stretched into absurdity.

Olivia leaned in another hair, close enough now to catch a whiff of his musky cologne, and she gave him a smile, soft and encouraging.

Kiss me, you idiot. Kiss me now.

But the kiss never came.

His head snapped up and he cleared his throat before taking a step toward the house. “Come, Olivia, you’ve seen the roses. Let’s go back inside before our absence is noted.”

Suppressing a frown, Olivia waved a hand in the air. “You go on,” she said brightly. “I’d like to stay for a few more minutes and enjoy the night air. I’ll be along in a moment.”

Her words were in direct contradiction to her earlier claim that she did not wish to venture into the gardens alone, but she didn’t care. She was too irritated to return to the party just yet, so she sent Paxton on his way with the assurance she would join him shortly.

She watched him go before turning to face the garden, a frustrated sigh slipping from her lips. What a debacle that had been.

Why was Paxton so reluctant to kiss her? He seemed to want to and yet, something was holding him back. But what?

Restless, she moved deeper into the gardens, passing through the rows of roses toward the long, dense hedgerow, the only sounds the soft crunch of her slippers on the gravel path and the hum of crickets singing their evening song.

What was she doing wrong? Why did he not wish to kiss her? It might sound conceited, but she was used to men desiring her. She’d heard enough compliments on her eyes and lips and charming ways to know that men found her attractive, and id given the chance, were more than eager to claim a kiss.

Except Griffin, of course.

And, apparently, Paxton. The man she hoped to marry.

An unhappy sigh escaped her as she rounded the hedgerow, the moonlight lighting her path. Her head came up, her gaze trained ahead…

And then she spotted him.

Griffin. Sitting alone on a bench against the hedgerow.

She stopped in her tracks, scattering gravel as her breath caught. “How long have you been sitting there?” she blurted.

Had he heard her exchange with Paxton?

Her cheeks flushed. Of course, he had. The bench was only feet from where she and Paxton were standing. How could he have missed it?

“Not long,” he said, shifting on the bench to hook an ankle over the other knee.

His casual posture grated, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Long enough to overhear my private conversation with the duke?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Well. She hadn’t expected him to admit to it so readily. Her arms fell to her sides.

“Go on, then,” she said. “Laugh if you want to. It was a pitiful attempt at seduction, and I will not fault you for mocking it.”

She steeled herself, embarrassment knotting and twisting in her gut.

“I don’t want to laugh, Olivia.” His voice was quiet, almost caring, and she could see the truth of his words on his face as he turned dark, steady to hers.

No, he did not want to laugh at her. It was worse. There was pity in his eyes.

Oh, God. She could not abide his pity.

“Why are you out here?” she asked, the words made harsh by injured pride. “Why are you sitting there on that bench, alone, like some sort of eavesdropping lecher? I—”

“Lord Keswick? Where are you?”

Olivia froze, her words falling away as the woman’s hushed whisper shot into the garden like cannon fire.

Griffin slowly rose from the bench, his gaze on Olivia’s as he slipped into the shadows, a forefinger pressed to his lips in a bid for silence.

There was no need for the reminder, though. She had no desire to be discovered out here alone with an unmarried man. Least of all this one.

Leaning her back into the hedgerow, she ignored the shrubbery pricking her skin and focused instead on shrinking into the darkness.

“My lord?” the lady called out. “Are you there?”

Olivia’s lips pursed in annoyance. Who was this woman searching for Griffin? Why was she looking for him? And how did she know he would be in the gardens? Had she—

Oh.

Olivia’s jaw tensed. So that was why he was waiting on that bench. He and this woman had arranged to meet here. Olivia had interrupted their tryst.

The evening grew better and better by the minute.

Another several interminable moments passed before the unknown lady finally gave up. Olivia listened to her retreating footsteps and waited through several beats of silence before slowly emerging from the hedge.

Griffin did the same, shaking out his coat tails and smoothing his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry about interrupting your…meeting,” Olivia said, filling the silence as she brushed the shrubbery from the back of her dress. “I had no idea you were out here.”

It was a lie, of course. She wasn’t sorry at all.

Because she didn’t care.

“She’ll try again,” Griffin said with a shrug, apparently unconcerned.

Olivia’s lips quirked. “You seem very certain of that.”

His smile was his only reply.

She rolled her eyes at his cockiness, but she had to admit, to herself at least, that he was probably right. Griffin was an attractive man, and women wanted him. There was no point in denying it.

Of course, she saw no need to agree with him, either. He was arrogant enough already.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose I had best return to the party now. This was more than enough excitement for one evening.” She took a step to leave then stilled and turned to face him again. “About what you overheard earlier…”

His gaze met hers.

“Please don’t mention it to anyone.”

He nodded once. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Griffin.”

She turned to leave again, eager now to leave and return to the warmth of the house. She started up the path and had taken just three steps when Griffin’s low voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Paxton is a fool.”

Olivia’s eyes fell closed and she swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “No. I’m the fool,” she said. “I thought if I lured him out here amongst the roses and the moonlight, he would finally kiss me and then maybe he would finally ask me to—” She broke off with a shake of her head and wrapped her hands around her chilled upper arms. “But it was a silly thought.”

She only hoped it hadn’t erased the progress she’d made with him these last few months.

Griffin moved behind her, the crunch of his footsteps growing louder as he neared, and then his evening coat draped over her shoulders, his warmth, his scent, wrapping around her like an embrace.

“You’re not a fool, Olivia.” His voice was low, comforting in its conviction. “Paxton is not the sort of man to appreciate boldness in a woman. Not with his mother like she is.”

Her lips tipped up in a self-deprecating smile. “Or perhaps he simply did not wish to kiss me.”

“Bollocks.”

She shook her head. “Maybe I misread his feelings. Maybe he is not attracted to me.”

“Impossible.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh and turned to face him, gripping the ends of his coat in one hand. “I don’t know how you can say that when just the idea of kissing me horrified you.”

His jaw flexed. “That isn’t true.”

“You know it is. I saw the expression on your face, the disgust—” Her throat caught as the memory of that night besieged her mind, the censure in his eyes, the coldness of his voice. The scornful words that had cut her to the quick.

Silly, shallow flirt.

She’d indulged that night on too much mulled wine, and it had made her brave. And she’d been burned for it.

“Anyhow, none of that matters now, does it?” She forced a small smile. “It was a silly mistake, and you can rest assured it will not be repeated. I know what you think of me, Griffin, and I—”

Her breath stuttered as his hands shot out and hauled her in by the lapels of his coat, his jaw like granite, his eyes ablaze. “You know nothing.”

Olivia’s heart gave a wild, incandescent leap.

And then his mouth was on hers, his lips shaping, claiming, and her mind went utterly blank. This was no tender kiss, no tentative meeting of mouths. It was nothing at all like her previous kisses.

This kiss was devouring. Desirous. Dangerous.

A groan caught in her throat at the first touch of his tongue to hers, and her arms swept around his neck, dislodging his grip on the coat. It slipped from her shoulders and fell to her feet just before his hands curved around her back and her own fingers sifted through the soft hair at his nape.

She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Never had she felt this way, like she couldn’t catch her breath, like she’d never truly breathed. Like she was sinking and somehow only this kiss—his kiss—would keep her from going under.

She nipped his lower lip with her teeth, and he sucked in a breath, his hands skating down her back to curve around her hips and cup her bottom. He gripped her, tugged her closer, and she gasped at the press of his hard length against her belly.

Desire licked at her insides, and she arched her hips, welcoming the fire, succumbing to it, spurred on by the stark, irrefutable evidence of his arousal. Evidence that he was right there with her. That he desired her, too.

Their tongues tangled, hands gripping and exploring, and Olivia sighed against his lips, breathless but too far gone to care.

Her body was his for the taking. He had only to ask.

“Griffin…” she whispered.

With a rough groan, he tore his lips from hers and stepped back.

Olivia’s eyes fluttered open and she pressed the back of her hand to her bruised lips, her heart thudding in her chest.

She raked her gaze over his face, seeking answers, seeking something. But there was nothing to see, no hint of feeling, no clue to his thoughts. Even his eyes had cooled.

“Why did you do that?” she asked faintly. Why did you stop?

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. “To prove a point.” His tone was casual, dispassionate even, as if he’d proved a thousand points this way. “And to lift your spirits.”

The haze of desire lifted, sniffed out by his words, and Olivia swallowed in a futile attempt to ease the ache in her throat. “I see,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm considering her heart was at her feet.

What a fool she was, thinking he’d kissed her because he’d wanted to. He’d made his opinion of her perfectly clear, and one kiss—one pity kiss—changed absolutely nothing.

“Did it work?” He tipped his head to one side and smiled at her, as if awaiting his accolades for a job well done.

She wanted to throw rocks at his head.

Instead, she returned his smile, compelled by pride alone, and nodded. “It did, yes. Thank you, my lord. That was…most kind of you.” She bent down to retrieve his fallen coat then handed it to him. “I really do have to return to the ballroom now. But I shall see you later, yes?”

Without waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and strode up the path with a straight spine and unhurried steps. Mustn’t let him think we’re running away.

Once she’d rounded the hedgerow, she allowed herself to breathe again, drawing in a slow breath to clear her mind before she reached the ballroom. A dull ache throbbed in her chest, even as her lips still tingled from that kiss. It was an unsettling dichotomy. But then, it wasn’t the first time Griffin had unsettled her.

She was determined to make it the last.

Shoving the dratted man from her mind, she approached the house and slipped into the ballroom, scanning the crowd for the duke.

She must find him and apologize for her behavior. She should never have pressed him like that. She would blame it on the moon or something. A romantic mood had come over her, she would say, and it would never happen again.

He would forgive her. He had to.