Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Clink. Clink. “Welcome, my friends, to our twenty-eighth annual masquerade ball.” Lady Osbourne’s voice traveled through the hushed ballroom.
For a matron who was responsible for twice as many matches amongst the unmarriageable than her years, she did not appear to be ready to retire from the challenge her patrons posed.
“I trust you shall enjoy the evening’s entertainment.
A reminder that all wagers placed must be fulfilled by the night's end.”
Warren’s gaze was locked on Lady Osbourne as she clapped her hands twice, followed by a regal wave to signal for the music to begin.
A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled that his own mama had thought to employ the matchmaking services of the den owner.
Who knows what lady the matchmaker might have chosen for him?
The ballroom was supposedly filled with ladies who were declared unmarriageable for some bizarre reason or other and gentlemen with questionable intent.
He searched the crowd once more for his mama and Anne, who had been uncharacteristically running behind in getting ready.
Practically thrown out the door to leave on time, Warren entered the Velvet Hell, intending to be one of the first to ensure he didn’t miss Olivia’s arrival.
However, the ballroom was overflowing with guests, and there was no sign of Lord Camden, or his meddling wife, or the lady he intended to propose to.
Warren patted his coat pocket; the indentation of the diamond against his palm boosted his confidence that was waning by the minute.
An elbow hit him squarely in the back of his ribs, and he turned only to find himself face-to-face with a man who resembled Ian. Damnation, why had he returned?
The masked man greeted, “Lord Guernsey.”
Certain it was the footman, he returned the greeting, “Ian.”
“Have you seen Olivia?”
A tornado of emotions swirled about within at the softening of the man’s tone as he uttered his intended’s given name. Fists balled at his side, he answered, “No.”
“That’s probably best.” As if predicting Warren’s wish to plant his fist into Ian’s face, Ian took a step back and bent ever so slightly at the waist. “A good eve to you, my lord.”
Somewhat mollified at the sight of the footman being engulfed in a swarm of young ladies who were all eager to gain the favor of the man, probably all in an effort to win one of Lady Osbourne’s notoriously ridiculous wagers, Warren relaxed his hands and grasped them behind his back.
Gaze averted, he weaved and dodged his way through the throng of ladies adorned in glittering masks and gowns, and men in black suits masked by a required domino.
Escaping the clutches of tenacious ladies became increasingly challenging as he continued his search for Olivia. He needed a vantage point to search the room effectively. His gaze rose to the mezzanine level where a quartet was fine-tuning their string instruments.
Warren made his way to the edge of the room and skirted the perimeter toward the staircase, but as he was about to mount the first step, he was halted by the image in the looking glass that hung on the wall to his left of a woman dressed in a dark blue gown and a white domino.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn about and hunt down the lady, but it couldn’t be Olivia, as Anne had informed him earlier that Olivia’s satin gown was an emerald green.
He placed a hand over his heart that raced as if he’d run a mile.
With one foot on the top stair raiser, he looked back over his shoulder.
This time, he caught sight of the woman in the blue dress making her way toward the refreshment table. Warren didn’t hesitate; he pivoted and descended the stairs, two at a time.
Before the wave of the crowd could swallow him whole, he hitched himself close to a footman carrying a salver of empty glasses. He had to get closer to the lady in blue, and he hastened and lengthened his stride. The flitter of emerald-green skirts in his peripheral slowed his pace.
Raised up on to the balls of his feet, he caught sight of the woman in green, who was skillfully making her way through the tightly packed guests in the direction of the hot house.
Refreshment table or hot house? His gut told him to push forward and capture the woman in blue, while logic roared at him to follow the lady in green.
For ten years, he’d placed unwavering faith in his systematic search for Olivia, mayhap if he’d heeded his intuition sooner, he would have discovered she’d been near all along.
To hell with following the rules. He forged his way to the refreshments table but by the time he was close, there was no sign of the lady. Damn, why had he vacillated?
“My lord.” A footman offered him a refreshment.
Warren swiped a drink from the tray and downed it in one gulp. As he deposited the empty glass upon the tray, a flutter of white ribbon on the other side of the glass doors behind the refreshment table grabbed his full attention.
He marched straight to the terrace doors, but they were locked.
The second set of doors, a few feet away, was in the opposite direction of his prey.
Left with no choice, he rushed to the exit, and when the door opened, he let out a sigh of relief, which was quickly replaced by panic as he raced to catch up with the woman he felt in his bones was Olivia.
The rustle of branches combined with the whispers of distinct feminine moans forced Warren to slow down.
Treading as lightly as a man of his stature could, Warren entered the gardens.
He had to discover the identity of the lady in blue.
As pleasure-filled sounds floated through the night air, Warren crept along the hedges, following his instincts toward the couple, who seemed to make no effort to disguise their activities.
Intent on searching for an opening to peer through, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was stepping.
So, when his leg was gripped by two icy cold hands, he fell backward as he hopped on one leg and lost his balance.
Moments later, a soft familiar form was atop of him, and he blinked to look up at Olivia, who covered his mouth with her gloved hand as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Shhh,” Olivia mouthed as she put a finger over her lips with her free hand.
He grabbed her by the wrist and drew her down to him so he could whisper, “What in the devil are you doing out here?”
“I’m trying to protect my friend,” she replied in an exasperated tone. He tried to sit up and peek through the hedges, but Olivia placed both hands solidly on his chest and pushed him back down to the ground. “Don’t look.”
The panic in her eyes made him worried. “You are freezing; let me up so I can give you my coat.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Please.”
She shook her head. “Not before we talk.”
“What could…” He stopped himself from finishing the question that had first popped into his mind. Hadn’t he sworn to stop his incessant questions? “We can discuss whatever you wish, after you are warm.”
Rather than complying, Olivia grabbed him by the lapels and attempted to roll them so that they lay on the ground side-by-side, but he wasn’t about to let her delicate skin touch the gravel path. Warren grabbed her by the wrists, and she stopped wiggling. “Fine. We shall talk first.”
Her body relaxed and sank into him. His cock immediately responded, and all thoughts of conversation were obliterated as she shifted her hips and trapped his hands beneath her generous bosoms. Warren closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head to the ground, avoiding the temptation to kiss her senseless.
Cool parted lips covered his, and Olivia kissed him instead. He extracted his hands and wrapped his arms around her tightly as she dipped her tongue into his mouth. Acting purely on his baser needs, Warren palmed her rounded bottom with both hands.
The sensual moans he’d overheard moments ago were now joined by the ones he was extracting from Olivia.
He worked the hem of her skirts up higher so that he could slip a hand between her luscious thighs.
He stroked the silky soft skin until she parted her legs slightly, allowing his fingertip to dip between her slick nether lips.
She gasped as he drove his finger deeper into her tight channel over and over.
Being found in such a compromising situation at any other ball would guarantee Olivia's hand but patrons were sworn to secrecy and were well aware that the activities that occurred at Lady Osbourne’s annual masquerade ball were never disclosed.
Olivia peered up at him, eyes wide, sparkling with desire. “We… we need to… to dis…” Her teeth grazed over her lower lip, and she tucked her face against his chest, muffling her mews as he distracted her by alternating between flicking and circling her sensitive nub.
“Come for me first, and then I’ll happily discuss anything with you.” He couldn’t help but grin as Olivia’s cheeks flushed and her eyes fluttered closed. If he could have the honor to be the one to provide her with such pleasures for the rest of his life, he’d be the luckiest man alive.
The tension that had accumulated over the past day was released with one final flick of Warren’s finger. Why Olivia inherently trusted him with her body, she didn’t quite understand, but she did.
There was no logical explanation for her constant desire to be close to him, and regardless of all the reasons why she shouldn’t agree to marry him, Olivia was no longer willing to resist him or her innate need to love him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and let the waves of pleasure roll through her as he continued to kiss her and swallow her cries of ecstasy.
Only after her breathing returned to normal did she loosen her hold on him. “How did you find me?”