Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order #3) - Adele Clee Page 0,64
identical to the old Elizabethan mansion. And it’s northeast of here.”
“Why would it lead there?”
“Highwood was a wedding gift to Daniel Sloane and Jane Boscobel. When Livingston’s older brother Cecil inherited the viscountcy and the Leaton estates, Lady Boscobel decreed Highwood would go to Livingston’s heir—my father.”
Vivienne thought for a moment. “Presumably, that’s why Charles Sloane is annoyed. He believes it should have gone to the eldest son.”
According to Charles Sloane, a pirate’s offspring didn’t deserve to own anything. “Highwood was not entailed, so Lady Boscobel could do as she pleased.”
They both stared at the painting, lost in thought.
“Something doesn’t make sense.” Vivienne glanced at the sash window before continuing. “Lady Boscobel’s actions suggest she loved Livingston despite his nefarious antics. Yet she refused to acknowledge the contract, told Lucian Hart she had disowned her son.”
Evan grew up wondering if the mother and son had shared a bond. Livingston and his wife, Maria, had returned to Highwood weeks before both dying of a fever. And Lady Boscobel had welcomed them, had agreed to raise their son. Why?
“Wealthy people seek to protect their assets. Perhaps she didn’t want Lucian Hart thinking he could make a claim on the estate. But Livingston is buried in a mausoleum there.”
“A churchyard in the country?”
“Not quite. He’s buried on the estate. The fact Thomas Gray’s poem is about death leads me to think we should make the forty-mile journey to Bedfordshire.”
Vivienne glanced twice at the window, though the curtains were drawn. “I cannot shake the sense we’re being watched. I had the same feeling when we entered Mr Howarth’s shop, and again when we left the office of the Order.”
Evan gripped her hand and squeezed it gently. His pulse raced. “I’ve felt the same for days, but you’re safe here.” He leant closer and pressed a reassuring kiss on her lips. He longed to touch her, touch her anywhere, touch her everywhere. “No one will hurt you while I’ve breath in my lungs.”
She stared at his mouth, inching closer as if drawn by his magnetic pull. “But soon I must leave here, Evan.”
“Let’s not think about that now. We’ve the gift of today. Despite what you said, I cannot forget how good you make me feel, Vivienne, how good we are together.”
His words inflamed her. She reached for him, her hands sliding wildly over his chest, around his neck, her fingers tugging at his hair. Then she kissed him in a maddening way that had them pushing aside the painting, had him seizing her around the waist, crushing her to his chest.
They were on their knees, locked together, their tongues deep in each other’s mouths, mating in a fierce frenzy, as if time were precious and they hadn’t a second to lose.
Hell, he’d never been so aroused.
Every muscle in his body was as hard as his cock. He gripped her buttocks, massaging in such a way as to tease her sex. Damn, he yearned to push inside her, craved that first thrust.
She tore her mouth away, fixing him with hungry brown eyes. “I need you, Evan. I need you now. Do you understand?”
He understood. She needed to feel full with him, needed to satisfy the insatiable ache, needed to feel this invisible yet tangible thing that existed between them, this thing he couldn’t explain.
“We must be quick.”
“Just hurry.”
He sat on the floor, his back against the sofa, his placket open, his cock a rod of iron. Vivienne gathered her skirts to her waist and came to sit astride him as he instructed. She sank down so slowly he almost flooded her with his seed.
Her head fell back. Her mouth fell open.
He’d already fallen, fallen hard days ago.
“Show me how well you ride, love—gallop, canter, you choose.”
“Let’s start with a teasing trot.” She came up on her knees, moaned as she sheathed him to the root.
He didn’t care how she rode him. He reached under her skirts, found the sensitive nub, caressed, teased and tormented until she convulsed around him, crying out in ecstasy.
With some urgency, he pulled out of her body, came by his own hand.
They sat there, breathless. Yet he knew from the look in her glazed eyes she would want him again before the night was through. He wanted her, too. He wanted to do everything, walk, talk until the early hours, play games, solve cases, probe her body, her mind.
A sudden knock on the door had him wiping his hand on his shirt in a panic, left them both hurrying to straighten