"I love you."
Adjusting her hips, he slid into her from behind, filling her completely. He thrust within her, slow and luxurious, his hands kneading her br**sts and rolling her n**ples with his calloused fingertips. She begged him to hurry, but he continued to move with lazy strokes, whispering raw, carnal words that goaded her passion to a fever pitch. When he finally allowed her release, it stunned her with its force Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
and she cried out, her fingers clawing at his. Sebastian stiffened behind her and then flooded her with heat, his velvety voice gasping and moaning her name in the darkness.
Sated, he held her tightly to him. "I'm sorry," he breathed against her skin. "I would not have done it."
Olivia didn't misunderstand. "I couldn't bear to share you."
"You never will, I vow."
Dawn intruded around the heavy velvet curtains when Sebastian reached for her again. She rolled into his embrace by instinct, half-asleep yet sensing how much he needed her.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I don't deserve you."
"Shhh…"
"Tell me again."
"I love you." And her heart ached for him, this beautiful, wonderful man who'd had so little love in his life that he would beg for it from her. "I love you, Sebastian."
With her eyes closed, Olivia relied on her other sleep-hazy senses—smell, taste, touch. Every hard plane and ridge of her husband's body was so familiar to her questing fingertips. He whispered to her, incoherent sounds that made her feel safe and cherished. She tugged him closer, her need as fierce as his, until he rose above her and blocked out the whispers of light.
He anchored her thigh over his hip and thrust skillfully inside her. Over and over he brought her to cli**x, knowing her pleasures, understanding her wants as only an expert and attentive lover could. She could feel his tenderness spreading through every touch, every lunge. Giving a startled cry, Olivia felt the rapture wash over her, through her, and into Sebastian, who shivered against her and Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
gave a low, pained moan.
Olivia woke hours later and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her left hand felt weighted, and she looked at it, coming to immediate wakefulness at the sight of the massive sapphire that graced her ring finger. Her heart tightened. She didn't have to look around to be certain.
Sebastian was gone.
As he threw open the door to his father's bedroom, stealth was not the primary goal in Sebastian's mind. Olivia's scent rose up from his skin as his blood heated with fury. His father had deliberately set out to destroy his wife to attain his own ends. Sebastian would not tolerate it happening again. His father would know that for a certainty in a moment.
He watched with grim satisfaction as his father shot up in the bed, startled by the sound of the door banging against the wall. The marquess glanced around with wild eyes.
"Hang it all, Sebastian! What is the meaning of this?"
"How fitting. The last morning we met was much like this, only it was I in the bed and you the wrathful figure in the doorway." The memory still made the bile rise in his throat. He smiled with wicked intent as his father paled. "Ah… so you see my purpose." He leapt onto the bed and pinned his father down, his hand forming a vice around the marquess's neck.
He would not leave his wife at the mercy of this monster.
"You are fortunate that I have no desire to be a marquess, or I would kill you now and be done with you."
His father's eyes bulged from the face that so resembled his own. What an odd bit of fate that was. Edmund had looked like their mother, sharing her reddish Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
hair and moss green eyes.
"Sebas—For God's—" Dunsmore struggled like a man gone mad, his hands scratching at Sebastian's wrists, drawing blood, his legs kicking convulsively beneath the counterpane.
"Listen." Sebastian dropped his face to within inches of his father's. "You will stay away from my wife. Do not approach her for any reason. If I discover that either you or Carr went within seeing distance of Olivia, I'll kill you." His fingers tightened further, until his entire hand ached with the force he exerted. Then he released his father and moved off the bed.
The marquess rolled to the edge of the mattress and cast up his accounts on the Aubusson rug. "I-I'll… cut… you off…" he choked out, his stomach heaving.
Sebastian laughed derisively. "If only that were possible. But everything is entailed except for your money, and I have no need of it. Spend it, burn it. I don't care."
His father spat on the floor.
Sebastian headed toward the door. "Remember, Father. Stay away from my wife."
After making the appropriate arrangements for Olivia with his solicitor, Sebastian stood on the deck of the Seawitch, watching the London skyline shrink as he left England behind. Like a coward, he wanted to flee the mess that was his family, and he fought the temptation to give in to the urge. It would be so easy to leave all the ugliness and never return, to escape the life for which he had no desire and find freedom elsewhere. But he had Olivia now, and he would suffer any ordeal, accomplish any feat, journey anywhere, as long as he could have her and be with her daily.
He must free himself of his past—release his men, make arrangements for his Sylvia Day - Bad Boys Ahoy!
ship, and sever his ties with the Robidoux brothers. He wasn't certain how he would survive the upcoming weeks without his wife, but it was too dangerous to bring her with him.
As England faded from view, Sebastian knew he would return as soon as he was able.
He'd left his heart behind, and he could not live without her.
Olivia barely made it through her morning toilet, consumed as she was by a dull, aching emptiness. She'd been so certain she could convince Sebastian to stay, or to at least take her with him, but part of her was not surprised that he had fled. It was a long-standing habit with him to run from his troubles. In his youth, he'd used drink and women to escape. Later, he'd used the sea and, for a time, her body. But apparently she hadn't been sufficient.
She'd stay in bed if she could, wallowing in the linens scented of his skin and their lovemaking, but her father was here and she had to attend to him. Olivia couldn't conceive how she would manage to survive the day, but the effort had to be made.
In the dining room, she filled her plate from the covered platters on the sideboard. Then she preceded the footman to the parlor, where her father sat reading his paper.
"Good morning, Livy," he greeted jovially.
"Good morning, Father." She pressed kisses to each of his rosy cheeks, then moved to the small table and chairs in the corner. When the footman set her plate and juice on the table, she dismissed him with a smile.
"You look positively lovesick," her father commented. "Are you that pleased with your husband?"
"I… yes." She had been, before he broke her heart, but she would never tell her father that. There was no way he could have foreseen what would occur when he endeavored to marry her into a title. And truly, wasn't this mess her own fault?
She had known how Sebastian was when she'd determined to keep him. Only her own foolishness had allowed her to hope for more.
"I have to say, I had my doubts when I first saw him," Jack admitted. "I know his type, wild and unruly. Not the sort of spouse a father would choose for his only daughter. But after speaking with him this morning—"
Her pulse leapt. "You spoke with him this morning?"
"Yes. We ate breakfast together. He doesn't appear to be the scapegrace I first thought, though he has the looks for it. His handling of the situation last evening impressed me. He appears to be very protective of you, possessive even. I like that. He's also astonishingly well versed in seamanship, seems not the least put-out with my work in trade, and… well, anyway, I found I liked him much better than that cousin of his, the one I thought was Lord Merrick."
Olivia stifled a groan at the reminder. As if she hadn't enough problems of her own to attend to, she was now inextricably bound to the rest of the Blake family, and what she'd seen of the brood so far left a marked distaste in her mouth. "Did Merrick mention his plans to you?"
Her father folded his paper and looked at her curiously. "He said he left you a note. Didn't you read it?"
She was out the door in a moment, shouting for the butler. He came running out, panting with the effort to make haste. But he knew nothing of a note, so she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. She found a chambermaid making the freshly changed bed.
"Morning, milady," the young servant greeted with a quick curtsy.
"Did you find a note for me?"
The girl nodded and moved to the end table, returning with a slip of folded parchment.
Olivia murmured her thanks and retired to her room to read the missive in private. It was simple and heartbreaking.
Trust me. I will return.
Yours,
S
She sank to the floor and cried.
Chapter Six
London, England, June 1813
Stifling a yawn, Olivia perused the ballroom with a jaundiced eye. The event was a crush, therefore the room was hot and, despite the profusion of flowers, smelly as well. She had no desire to be here, but Dunsmore had insisted she attend.
One would think that the last four months would have wrought some change in their feelings for one another, considering how closely they worked together to ensure her social success. But such was not the case. She detested the horrid man as much today as the day she had first met him. Unfortunately, left to her own devices, she'd had no recourse but to seek out the marquess's assistance. She required his support to establish herself as Lady Merrick. Without him, the social acceptance that was due her would have been denied her.