The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [81]
Olivia blinked. “So she wasn’t unfaithful the entire time you were married?”
“She was.” He said it calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. “She felt differently about me than she did about her lovers.”
Olivia thought, not for the first time, that there was no point in expressing aloud what she thought about Evangeline.
“I don’t want to talk about my former wife,” Quin said. “In fact, I’d just as soon never speak her name again.”
“Are you sure? I’m so ordinary compared to you, Quin.”
The look of complete perplexity in his eyes could not be feigned. “What the hell do you mean? You’re beautiful, and funny, and everyone in this house loves you. With,” he added punctiliously, “the possible exception of my mother, but she will learn to care about you.”
A sob came, bringing a tear or two along with it.
“No,” Quin said, pulling her into his arms. “No tears.” He started kissing them away, brushing her face over and over with his lips in the softest of caresses.
Olivia nestled into his arms.
“Do you mind telling me what exactly brought you into this room?” Quin whispered between kisses. “When I saw you an hour ago, you were ready to sacrifice me for your honor.”
Olivia laughed shakily. “I do feel terrible about Rupert. But Georgie says that we will find him the right wife: someone understanding, strong, and kind.”
“Ah, so your sister saw the truth.”
“She told me there is no spark between you.”
“Just as I told you.” There was deep satisfaction in his voice. “You know, your sister would make an extremely capable scientist.”
“She is an extremely capable scientist, and she will be a brilliant one, once we buy her all the books she wants. Father never would, you know. He thought that books were unladylike, and Mother agreed.”
Quin snorted.
She burrowed closer, reveling in the strong arms around her, the dark, spicy, masculine smell of his chest, the steel of his body . . . the hard nudge against her stomach that told her without words that he wanted her. That he thought every inch of her breasts and stomach and hips was worth kissing.
“I do feel some remorse about stealing you from Montsurrey. Stealing a man’s fiancée while he is serving his country is not entirely honorable.”
Olivia leaned against him, letting his heat warm her whole body. “Rupert lost air at birth,” she offered. “He will never be all that he could be.”
“He’s more than enough,” Quin said simply. “He’s serving his country, risking his life to protect England.”
A few more tears dropped onto Quin’s coat. “You’re right.”
“We will always be friends to him.” It was a vow of sorts. “He had you, and now I’m taking you away, and I will never forget what I forced him to give up.”
Olivia sniffled ungracefully, took the handkerchief he gave her. “Rupert might be more resentful if you took Lucy.”
Quin laughed.
“I mean it,” she protested. “And Georgie agrees.”
He nudged her head up, kissed her wet eyes again. Then his mouth came down on hers. And his hands were everywhere: possessive, almost rough, claiming and branding her.
Olivia melted against him as if she had always belonged there. Quin’s kiss was sweet, but under it was a hard demand, a man’s onslaught. Her arms curled around his neck and she clung to him, opening her mouth, inviting him in. Her head reeled from the smoky male smell of him, the way he tasted like champagne and something else, something intrinsically Quin.
The kiss made her feel wild and deeply alive. He had his hand on her cheek, tilting her head back, kissing her fiercely.
This was intimacy, she realized suddenly.
Quin nipped her lower lip, and Olivia shivered against him as if she’d been struck by a cold wind. He gave a little growl in response and tilted her head even further back. Then his mouth slid from hers to the curve of her jaw, leaving her to move restlessly against him. His arms ran more slowly down her back, pulling her closer.
Olivia actually went up on her toes, so intent on the intoxicating warmth of his arms and his lips that—
She almost didn’t hear the door opening.
Nineteen