Chapter 11

T he sight of her hosiery dangling from Atticus's fingers made Octavia's cheeks burn with a fiery heat. Dear Lord, she knew she'd forgotten something this afternoon. Embarrassment sent her scrambling to her feet and rushing across the room to snatch the hose out of his hand. The woolen undergarment brushed her fingers as Atticus jerked it out of her reach.

" Answer me , Octavia." The autocratic note in Atticus's usually hypnotic voice made her glare down at him.

"I went out to feed Napoleon and check on the hens yesterday evening," Octavia exclaimed with impatience as she stretched out her arm to try and tug the stocking out of his hand once more.

" Bloody hell , I almost didn't find the cottage last night because the wind and snow were so bad," he exclaimed with harsh anger as he lunged to his feet, forcing her to take two steps backward. "Do you have any idea the risk you took going out in that kind of weather?"

"It wasn't a risk," she bit out through clenched teeth. "Things weren't as bad as they are now. I could still see the cottage, and I was quite safe."

The instant she disagreed with him, a dark fury slashed across his handsome face. Startled by his anger, she jumped as he took an almost menacing step toward her. In the next breath, Atticus towered over her, and she fought to ignore the heat of him warming her body.

"One of the cowhands I knew in America thought he was safe too," he snarled with a ferocity that made her tremble beneath his glare. "The poor devil froze to death about three hundred feet from the barn during a blizzard last year."

Stunned by his scathing retort, a chill swept over Octavia's skin. Atticus's savage tone caused an image of a man freezing to death to form in her head. A shudder rocked her body at the thought. What he'd just described had to have been a terrible fate.

Another tremor pulsed through her when she realized the unfortunate cowhand's fate could have easily been Atticus's last night. He'd just said he'd had trouble finding the cottage in the snow. What if he'd failed? He would have died. The risk he'd taken to reach her had been far greater than she'd realized.

The thought of him freezing to death while trying to reach her made her stomach lurch in a sickening manner. But it was the possibility of him dying that made her cheeks grow cold as she felt the blood drain from her face. Unable to reply, she remained silent. His expression grim, Atticus shook his head.

"You put yourself in harm's way last night, Octavia," he said in a fierce, clipped tone as he offered her the hosiery. "You'll not do it again. Is that clear?"

"Yes," she said with quiet regret.

Octavia accepted the undergarment, then stepped to one side and stretched out her hand to tug the other one off the fire screen. As her fingertips touched the woolen stocking, she realized she'd misgauged the distance. In a split second, she lost her balance and stumbled into Atticus. Sinewy arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his chest.

Fingers pressing into hard muscles, Octavia could feel his rapid heartbeat. Startled at how fast his heart was pounding, she jerked her gaze upward to meet his blue eyes. They were stormy with an emotion that alarmed and excited her at the same time. She watched his throat move as he swallowed hard, and her mouth went dry as his fingers pressed deeper into her waist.

She knew she should push herself out of his arms, but she didn't move as his warm, male scent invaded her senses. Dear God, but the man smelled as wonderful as he looked. A low, rumbling noise reverberated out of him, before he lowered his head and kissed her for a third time today. The heat of his lips against hers sent her reeling, and if he'd not been holding her, she was certain she would be swaying on her feet like a tree in a wild storm.

This kiss was unlike the one this morning, or even the one after supper. This caress carried a different, much more fervent urgency to it. His lips didn't try to coax a response from her. They demanded she yield to him, and she surrendered without hesitating. Instinct guided her to wrap her arms around his neck, then press herself deeper into his hard, powerful body.

In the back of her mind, she knew this was madness, but she didn't allow herself to think. All she wanted was to revel in the heat of his caress. Not even in her most vivid dreams had she dreamt his kiss would be this wonderful. His tongue slid along the seam of her mouth in an insistent demand she part her lips, and she obeyed. The instant his tongue swept into her mouth, she murmured a quiet sound of pleasure.

The spicy, almost peppery taste of ginger from his dessert danced across her tongue as it tangled and mated with his. It heightened the fiery sensation of his kiss. There had been moments in the past where a man had stolen a quick kiss from her, but nothing like this. Never had she ever imagined a man's mouth against hers could be such a glorious, hedonistic assault on her senses.

Exhilaration sent small frissons across her skin, and the sudden sensation of his hand sliding up to cup the side of her breast made her shiver. Desire slid through her limbs until her body cried out with a need for something far more wickedly delicious than his kiss. Dear God, she wanted his hands caressing her far more intimately.

Almost as if he'd read her mind, a dark groan vibrated against her lips, and the moment a large, male hand tugged her gown up over her knee, she gasped with excitement. Cool air swirled around her legs as the hem of her dress brushed across her thigh. Before she could even think, strong fingers glided over the top of her leg, and she whimpered at the light touch.

Uncaring of anything but the need streaming through her, she thrust her hips forward into his. He shuddered, and she felt his hard thickness pressing into the apex of her thighs. One blistering sensation after another cascaded and pulsed their way through her. Firm fingers glided over her calf in a sensual caress as his lips blazed a fiery trail across her cheek, then down the side of her neck.

Anticipation swept through her, and her breathing became small, erratic pants of desire. Heart pounding wildly in her breast, Octavia's breath hitched with delight as his long, male fingers brushed across her sex. The light touch made her jerk against him and as he nibbled at her throat, she sighed his name. Atticus immediately froze against her and jerked his hand out from under her skirts.

" Christ Jesus ," he rasped. "What the hell am I doing?"

The low, dark note in his voice made Octavia stiffen as she blinked in confusion. Bile rose in her throat as the appalled expression on Atticus's handsome features registered in her head. Mortified by her wanton behavior and his brutal rejection, Octavia tried to push herself out of his embrace. When he held her fast, she tried harder to twist her way free of his grasp, but his strong arms refused to release her.

"Forgive me, Octavia," he said hoarsely as he stared down at her. "I told you I wasn't like other men, yet my behavior today makes me out to be a liar."

Embarrassment latched onto Octavia's insides. Stomach lurching with humiliation, a chill swept across her skin as she managed to free herself from his arms with a vicious twist of her body. Desperate to flee the room, Octavia stumbled backward, then spun away from him. The awkward move caused her shoe to catch on an uneven section of the floor rug.

She paid a high price as her body headed in one direction, and her ankle refused to pivot and follow. Pain lashed through her ankle as she uttered a sharp cry, then collapsed in a heap on the floor. Atticus was kneeling beside her in two seconds.

"Are you hurt?" Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the gentle, soothing note in his voice

"I'm fine."

Her voice cracked with pain and humiliation as she tried to block out the throbbing in her ankle. Octavia batted Atticus's hand away from her and tried to stand on her own. The moment she applied pressure to her foot, her ankle gave way beneath her. This time she was forced to blink back the tears forming in her eyes as she crumpled to the floor once more.

"Is it your ankle?"

The soft warmth in his words made her tremble. Dear God, it was bad enough that the man could reduce her to a shuddering mass of nerves when his voice vibrated with an invitation for her to be wicked and sinful with him. But the tender regard running through his voice right now threatened to undo her completely. Firm fingers caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

Concern glittered in the dark, stormy depths of the blue eyes meeting hers, and another tremor spiraled through her. Unable to trust her voice not to be steady, she looked away from him and tried to stand again. When she failed, Atticus muttered something incoherent.

Without warning, his arms slid under her to pull her close and cradle her against his chest. The man didn't even grunt as he rose from the floor with her in his arms. The ease with which he'd lifted her off the floor was impressive. However, it didn't change the fact her size had to be testing his strength. With a gasp, she stared up at him in horror.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?"

"Carrying you upstairs to your bed, and then I'm going to find something to wrap around your ankle."

"You cannot possibly be serious."

Any second now, he'd begin to show signs of his muscles protesting and straining to hold her weight. Not to mention how much his body would protest if the man insisted on carrying her up a flight of stairs.

"I'm…I know I cannot be…I am far too…too…"

"Plump?"

"Ye…yes," she choked out as mortification threatened to swallow her whole.

Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Octavia averted her gaze. It was bad enough he'd just rejected her, but hearing Atticus call her plump was devastating. Worse, it made her heart ache, and she didn't like how it felt. A dark rumble reverberated in Atticus's chest.

Powerful and potent, the indistinct sound vibrated down through the pores of her skin into her blood until her body tightened in response. The sensation became even stronger as he expelled a harsh sound of something raw and primal. Octavia looked up at him, and her heart began to race at the way his features were taut with an emotion that frightened and thrilled her all at the same time.

"When I look at you, Octavia, I don't see the plump woman you and others see. I see the most tempting, beguiling woman I've ever met," he growled with a ferocity that made her eyes widen in surprise. "While the holiest of men wouldn't be tempted by Boucher's L'Odalisque Brune, you would sorely test their faith. You're enough to make a saint willing to commit every sin in the book simply for the chance to caress your silky skin. Any man failing to see how irresistible you are is a fool, and I have never been a fool, Octavia."

Stunned by his description of her, all she could do was stare up at him in disbelief. The intensity in the way his dark blue eyes were focused on her was unsettling. While she managed to swallow the knot threatening to close her throat, she didn't reply. Atticus nodded with grim satisfaction at having left her speechless. Octavia drew in a shuddering breath the moment his gaze changed to the color of the sky during a terrible thunderstorm. Facial muscles taut with tension, he looked as if he was struggling with internal demons.

"Now then, I'm going to carry you up those damn stairs without you uttering one more word of protest, is that understood?" Still too flabbergasted to speak, Octavia nodded. Atticus drew in a harsh breath. "And you should pray to God I have the strength to leave your room the moment I set you down on your bed, Octavia. Because at the moment, not even the good Lord himself knows how willing I am to spend an eternity in hell to make love to you right now."

The rough, hoarse confession sent Octavia's heart skidding along. Had the man just said he wanted to make love to her? Another sound rumbled out of Atticus as he strode toward the stairs. Unable to look away from him, Octavia swallowed hard at his stony expression. His jaw was a hard, sharp line of tension, and a tic in his cheek protested under the stress.

He had the look of a man fighting a battle to maintain his self-control as he ascended the stairs as if she were light as a feather. The moment Atticus stopped in the doorway of her room, he sucked in a sharp breath, then released a low groan. Octavia's gaze jerked upward to see the corners of his mouth white with strain as he stared at her bed.

" Fuck ," he rasped so softly Octavia wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

Another dark groan of horror rolled out of him before he covered the short distance between the door and her bed in three long strides. Without fanfare, he set her down on the mattress, then turned away from her.

"Atticus—" Her voice died away as he whirled around to face her.

"What did I tell you, Octavia? I told you not to utter a single word," he snarled in a voice that echoed with an emotion that sounded like desperation.

"But I simply wanted—"

A jungle cat couldn't have matched his speed as he leaned down over her until she was forced to fall backward into the feather mattress. Hands braced on either side of her, Atticus met her gaze. Something dark and wicked blazed in their blue depths. Excitement etched a bold path into her body. Was he going to kiss her? Deep down, she prayed he would do that and a great deal more.

"Do you not remember me warning you not to say a word, Octavia?"

"I just wanted to say thank you and tell you where the bandages are," she whispered.

It wasn't what she'd really wanted to say, but her courage to plead for his touch failed her. Atticus closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath. In an abrupt move, he pushed himself away from her and took two steps backward. Sitting upright, Octavia studied him closely. He was breathing hard, and her heart skipped a beat at the hunger burning in his eyes. With a jerk of his head, Atticus cleared his throat.

"You're welcome," he growled. "Now tell me where your bandages are."

"In the kitchen cabinet next to the cupboard."

With another sharp bob of his head, Atticus whirled around and strode out of the room. Octavia watched him leave with a wild mix of emotions. The way he'd described her moments ago had left her breathless. No one had ever compared her to a painting by one of the Old Masters. It was a compliment of the highest caliber.

Every word he'd spoken had made her feel beautiful and alluring. All the while, her heart had pounded frantically in her breast. The moment he said he was struggling not to make love to her, Octavia had found it difficult to breathe. In that moment of awareness, she'd come close to offering herself to him. Never in her life had a man aroused her to the point she was willing to surrender to his touch.

The sound of Atticus's tread in the corridor made her look toward the door. When he entered the room, he stared at her for a moment, then crossed the floor to kneel at the side of her bed. His touch gentle, he raised her injured foot and rested it on his knee. In silence, he wrapped the bandage around her ankle with surprising skill. Watching him work, Octavia found it odd that he knew how to do something most members of the Marlborough Set would summon a doctor for.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Her question made him shrug, but he didn't look at her.

"I worked on a ranch in America for more than a year. I learned how to do a lot of things." Atticus finished binding her ankle, then stood up. "There, that should keep the swelling down. You should be able to walk on it in the morning, although it might be a little sore.

"Thank you," she said as she studied the bandage wrapped around her ankle. Drawing in a deep breath, she met his shuttered gaze. "And thank you for everything you said downstairs. No one…no one has ever paid me such a lovely compliment."

"It wasn't just a compliment, Octavia. It was the truth… every word ." The earnestness in his voice was reflected in his steady gaze. But it was the seductive thread of desire running beneath his sincerity that stole her breath away. Tension flowed between them for a long moment before Atticus glanced over his shoulder toward the door across the hall.

"I'll say goodnight then."

"Oh, but…in the morning…if my ankle isn't better, there are fresh scones in a tin, and the…"Octavia's voice trailed off as a small smile tilted his sensual mouth.

"I know how to cook, just as I know how to do dishes." Amusement filtered through his delicious, sinful voice. The instant her eyes widened with surprise, he grew somber. "I honestly don't know what I have to do to make you understand I'm not like the other men you've met, Octavia. Tonight didn't help my cause. If I'd met you before the night of the Ealing's ball, or if you hadn't overheard my conversation with Liza, we wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't understand."

"You might not, now. But you will," he said with a firmness that said he was through talking, and he walked toward the door. "Good night, Octavia."

With that, Atticus left her room, the door making a soft click as he pulled it closed behind him. Octavia stared after him in bewilderment. What on earth did he mean by that? How would things be different? For that matter, what did he mean she'd understand in the future? Staring at the closed door, Octavia frowned in frustration.

The man might be the Duke of Ashurst, but he didn't act like any duke she'd ever met. On the heels of that thought came the realization that Atticus reminded her of her father, both in temperament and humor. Nibbling at her bottom lip, Octavia contemplated that revelation for a long moment, then released a sigh.

In the space of little more than a day, Atticus had upended her world with little effort on his part. From the moment he'd arrived, he'd done nothing but surprise her. Whether it was something he said or did, Atticus seemed determined to win her approval. Everything Atticus had done and said since his arrival had only strengthened his statement that he was different from all the other men she'd known.

An unladylike snort escaped Octavia. She'd known he was different the moment he'd found her tangled in the rose bushes that night in the garden. The instant his sympathetic gaze had locked with hers, Octavia had known he was a man she could trust. A man she could respect. It was one of the reasons she'd refused to see him the morning after the Ealing ball.

Atticus had represented something she'd resigned herself to never having, especially with a man as handsome as he was. She'd not been willing to risk a friendship with him because she'd known it would end with Atticus breaking her heart. When he'd apologized last night, he'd caught her unaware. What confused her the most was that he'd volunteered to come and ensure she was safe.

Not one man out of all those she'd met in the past three years would have volunteered to brave the elements to ensure she was safe. But Atticus had. The man had ridden through a terrible snowstorm to reach her. Then there was his reaction when she'd twisted her ankle and fallen to the floor. Fear had made his mouth tight with worry. The depth of his concern had surprised her, almost as much as the gentle way he'd tended to her.

But of all the things he'd done, it was his compliment moments ago that had set him apart from other men. Unlike the fawning, insincere words she'd heard for the past three years, Atticus's passion-filled words had been authentic and genuine. The rough-edged need and desire in his hypnotic voice had made her ready to surrender to him. And God help her, she wouldn't have just capitulated to him with a whimper. She would have begged him to touch her in every wicked, sinful way possible.

For the first time in her life, a man had made her feel beautiful, desired, and coveted. And dear Lord, the way he'd described her. Emphatic and precise, he'd made it clear he thought other men were fools for not seeing her as he did. She knew she should have been shocked, but all she'd felt was an intense arousal. Every honeyed word that had rolled off his tongue had only increased her desire for him.

A shiver skimmed down her back as she remembered the dark hunger in Atticus's voice. With every word, he'd made her body throb with an intensity she'd never experienced, not even in her dreams. Perhaps the most heart-stopping moment of all had been his confession that he was willing to spend an eternity in hell to make love to her.

It explained a great deal about all the moments she'd seen Atticus watching her with what she now realized was intense desire. She understood now how much he'd been struggling to control his physical need for her. Not once since his arrival had he tried to seduce her. From the moment he'd stepped through her back door, covered in snow, Atticus had treated her with nothing but respect.

With any other man, she would not have been so fortunate. Not even his kiss this morning had been one of seduction. It had been wicked, teasing, and arousing. But it hadn't been designed to secure her surrender. That hadn't been true of his kiss moments ago. His mouth had demanded and consumed hers with a fiery passion that left her breathless and weak-kneed.

Earlier, it had been obvious Atticus desired her, but he'd held back. But moments ago, when she'd been cradled in his arms, his words and expression had left her thunderstruck. Only a man who possessed a steely self-control could have refrained from acting on the desire she'd seen in his penetrating gaze.

Although she admired him for it, she found it frustrating that he'd failed to act on the fiery emotion she'd seen in his dark-blue eyes. Atticus had her on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and doing something rash. Octavia swallowed hard as a forbidden thought swept through her head. What if she took Atticus as a lover? The wicked idea made her heart skip a beat.

Could she be that daring? After what he'd said a short time ago, she didn't think he would refuse her. One hand pressed against the base of her throat, a tremor rippled its way through her. A soft expletive parting her lips, Octavia glared at her injured ankle. Well, this ankle wasn't going to help her accomplish it tonight.

" Damnation ," she muttered as she reached behind her to undo her gown. Fingers fumbling with the small buttons running down the back of her dress, she found it impossible to undo more than a few buttons. Several strands of hair fell onto her face as she struggled with the dress, and she tried to blow them out of the way with a harsh puff of air.

Why the devil was it so hard undoing the blasted dress? Usually, buttoning the dress up in the morning was when dressing was difficult. Any other time, it was easy to undo buttons. Octavia grimaced as she realized she always stood while dressing and undressing every day. Sitting on the bed didn't allow her the same range of motion she had when standing. Sliding off the bed, Octavia reached for the back of her gown while hopping on one leg to protect her ankle.

After several minutes attempting to undo the buttons, she collapsed on the bed. Exhausted from her efforts, Octavia pushed the wayward strands of hair off her face. That hadn't proven any more successful than when she'd been sitting on the bed. If she were at the Hall, she could have a maid assist her.

A harsh breath of frustration blew past her lips. Octavia had one of two options. She could either sleep in her clothes or ask for help. Sleeping in her clothes would be extremely uncomfortable. If Atticus undid the back of her dress, it would be…she wasn't sure what it would be.

Don't be ridiculous, Octavia. The man desires you. He's made that clear. This is the perfect opportunity .

"No, he'll just push me away," she whispered as she remembered how he'd left her alone moments ago.

You know that's not true. Don't deny it, Octavia. You want Atticus to make love to you. You want those large, beautiful hands of his touching you everywhere. Just like he said he wanted to do.

"Oh dear Lord," she whispered. "I don't think I can be that bold." Octavia pressed her fingers to her temples. Dear God, had she gone mad? All she'd been trying to do was figure out how to get her dress undone.

You know you've already made your decision, Octavia. You're just trying to talk yourself out of it. You're worried you'll make a fool out of yourself. But the only way you're going to make a fool of yourself is if you don't act.

She winced as the voice in the back of her head continued to taunt and goad her until she impulsively opened her mouth.

"Atticus," she cried out, hoping her voice sounded calm and composed.

He didn't knock on the door until her lips parted to cry out his name for the fourth time. The quiet rap made her muscles tense with agitation as she invited him in. The door swung open a little more than halfway, and the sight of him sucked the air out of her lungs.

Shirt still tucked into his trousers, it was undone almost to his waist. Dear God, the man was devastating. The sudden need to see all of him bared in front of her made her heart pound with excitement. She'd never seen a man's naked chest before, and as she studied him, a frisson danced through her. It became a streak of something fiery as it raced down to the apex of her thighs, where it tightened her muscles and her sex cried out to be touched.

"What do you want, Octavia?" Although his voice was polite and pleasant, his entire body was taut, as if he was ready to bolt from the room. One hand still wrapped around the doorknob, she saw his knuckles were white from his tight grip.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I…I'm having difficulty…" she flinched at the look of impatience darkening Atticus's features and the sudden tightening of his mouth. This had been a mistake. He might want her, but at the moment, he didn't appear to be enthralled with her.

"Difficulty with what?"

"My dress," she said in an apologetic voice. "I seldom have any problem when I'm alone because I'm able to bend backward quite easily when standing. I've tried hopping on one foot, but that proved even harder to do than when I'm sitting."

With a wave of her hand at the bed, Octavia glanced at the mattress, then back at Atticus. The muscles of his face hardened until his features looked as if they'd been carved out of marble. The moment his gaze met hers, she gulped. Danger and sin glittered in his blue eyes as she watched him look up toward the heavens.

"This is a test, isn't it , you bastard ," he choked out beneath his breath.

Atticus's throat bobbed as if he were having difficulty swallowing, then he uttered a dark sound of resignation. In three quick strides, he reached the side of the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. Roughly, he twisted her away from him and began to undo the buttons of her gown. Octavia shuddered slightly as she fought to steady her nerves. The moment the back of her dress fell open, she heard a strangled noise fill the air.

"Atticus—"

"I'm glad to see the thorns didn't scar your back," he rasped softly.

Heat blasted its way across her skin as she felt his fingertips trace a path across her shoulder blades. Octavia turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. A stormy blue gaze shifted upward and the moment their eyes met, he stiffened.

"You should find it easy to finish undressing now."

What appeared to be panic darkened his features, and he was already off one knee when she scrambled around to face him. In an attempt to keep him from leaving, she ran her fingers across the back of the beautifully-shaped hand pressed deep into the mattress. He jerked, then stared down at her hand covering his. Slowly returning his gaze to her face, he shook his head as if telling her not to speak. She ignored the silent warning.

"Atticus…would it be wrong if I asked you to kiss me like you did earlier?"

This time she was certain it was panic she saw flashing across his face as he stared at her in stunned silence, while his throat worked as if struggling to speak. After a long moment, he refused with a shake of his head.

"You could ask, but I'd refuse."

The harsh, vicious reply groaned out of Atticus as if someone were torturing him. The sound made her tip her head to one side as she tried to determine what he was thinking. The memory of his agonized protest while looking heavenward made her study him more closely. The tic in his cheek indicated he was fighting a hard battle to maintain his control. It sent an odd sense of power sailing through her. For once, she held all the power, and it was a delightful, heady sensation. In a tentative gesture, she reached out to touch his cheek.

"Why would you refuse?" she whispered, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her fingertips.

"Because it would be unwise for me to kiss you."

"Then I'll not ask you to kiss me," she said with a sudden rush of confidence.

Relief lightened his face, but a second later, he inhaled a sharp breath as Octavia leaned forward to kiss him. The moment she pressed her mouth to his, Atticus grew rigid again. An exhilarating hum spread its wings to beat a gentle vibration against every part of her.

When he didn't respond to her kiss, Octavia pulled back from him. Had he been lying? It took Atticus several seconds to open his eyes, and the moment he met her gaze, she drew in a sharp breath at the desire glittering in their dark depths.

Fire raced across her skin as Atticus's forefinger trailed down the side of her face, then along the curve of her neck. Electricity charged the air, and a deep groan rolled out of him.

" God help me ."

His hoarse whisper filled the space between them, and Octavia saw him wavering between desire and sanity. Unwilling to let him retreat, she pressed her fingers against his firm lips.

"Kiss me again, Atticus. I lied earlier. Your kisses are much more than just pleasant. They excite me," she whispered. "I'll beg if I must, but please kiss me."

The soft plea pulled another groan from him. Strong hands clutched her upper arms and with a hard tug, he pulled her into his solid chest. The moment his mouth captured hers, she sighed. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shuddered beneath the sensual assault of his mouth.

Hot and fierce, his mouth plundered hers as if he were drowning, and she was his life preserver. The light scent of bergamot with fragrant notes of earth, wood, and pine swept over her senses. It was a potent male scent she knew was unique to him.

Excitement swept through her and she breathed in the hot essence of him, while her mouth clung hungrily to his. The moment his tongue swirled around hers, she moaned with pleasure. Erotic and tantalizing, she pressed herself deeper into his chest. Every inch of her was on fire and aching for him to touch her everywhere. Nothing in her dreams had prepared her for such an exhilarating assault on her senses.

Drowning in a turbulent sea of unrestrained bliss, her tongue imitated his intoxicating strokes. A primal growl vibrated against her fingertips as her hands splayed across his chest. It sent a wild exaltation dancing its way through her veins until every inch of her throbbed and tingled with delight.

Something strange and tantalizing slid its way down to her sex, and she whimpered. His mouth kissed her cheek and traced a leisurely path down the side of her neck, making her shudder with excitement. As his lips explored the tops of her breasts, she trembled, aching for him to ease the growing ache between her thighs.

" Oh God , Atticus. Please touch me. I need you to touch me."

The moment she spoke, Atticus stiffened, then shoved her away. Standing up, he distanced himself from her in three quick strides, his features hard and unyielding. Frustrated, she stretched out her hand to him. If possible, his face became even stonier.

"I can't do this, Octavia."

"Why?" she whispered. "I thought you wanted me."

"I do want you, sweetheart. I want you more than you know. But I can't." Atticus's voice was dark and hoarse as he looked away from her. Octavia's heart sank. Had she done something that repulsed him?

"I don't understand. Is there something wrong with…have I done something…" she choked out, her breathing labored.

" Bloody hell ," he ground out.

In seconds, he was bending over her, and with a suppressed violence, he caught her hand and pressed her palm against his thick erection. He was so hard, and the material of his trousers was stretched tight against his flesh, outlining the beautiful shape of him.

"Does this feel like I don't want you, my beautiful, sweet Aphrodite? There's nothing wrong with you. You are perfection," he choked out. Eyes closed, his breathing quickened as he pressed her hand even harder against his arousal. "You have no idea how much agony I'm in right now. My cock is making me painfully aware of how easy it would be to end my suffering if I just give way to you."

His raw, unrestrained language made her cheeks grow hot. The hunger in his voice only strengthened the intensity of her body's silent cry for his touch. With tentative fingers, Octavia explored his erection. Atticus shuddered at her slow caress, and his hand fell away from hers to dig his fingers into the bed covers in a visible sign of desperation.

Elation flowed through her at his response, and she slowly ran her fingers along his steely length with increased pressure. Another hard shudder rocked him, and it encouraged her to stroke him again. This time, her touch ripped a low groan out of him. It was a sound that could only be defined as one of torment. Ragged breaths of air blew in and out of him, and hope sprang to life inside her breast. Was it possible her touch could make him yield?

"I want to see you, not just touch you," she whispered before her fingers began to undo the buttons of his trousers.

"Christ Jesus, you don't know what you're asking of me, Octavia."

His hand wrapped around her wrist in a grip that was almost painful as he stopped her. Raw hunger and passion pounded its way through every word he uttered. They possessed the powerful rumble of distant thunder preceding an approaching storm.

"Isn't it enough to know you have the power to reduce me to a state of insatiable lust? That you arouse a ravenous need to feast on you in every wicked way I can think of. I want to do acts with you that are so wicked they'll shock you. I want to teach you how pleasurable sin can be. But I can't. I can't take what you're offering, sweetheart, because I won't be able to undo it."

With an abrupt movement, Atticus straightened upright and put distance between them once more. The passionate hunger in his gaze made her heart pound frantically as her own need for him became a feverish heat across her skin. It was a warmth that would erupt into flames if she could just convince him how much she wanted him. How much she wanted this.

"But don't you understand?" she whispered. "I want to be wicked with you. I've wanted you to touch me since the first night I saw you at Lyndham House."

"Lyndham—but that party was several weeks before the Ealing affair," he choked out.

"Yes." Octavia nodded and looked away from him, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "I went home that night and dreamed about you doing all manner of things to me. Wicked things I know I'd enjoy very much."

" Christ almighty ." The harsh, gravelly sound rolling out of him held a distinct note of anguish that alarmed her. At his low cry, Octavia jerked her gaze back to him. A pained expression darkened his handsome face, before his jaw hardened and a tic formed in his cheek. "To think all this—it changes nothing, Octavia. I won't do it."

"I don't understand. Why—"

"Because you'll regret it afterward," he said with a quiet assurance that made her heart sink.

"That's not true," she exclaimed. "I want you. You want me. Why would I regret you making love to me?"

"I know you better than you realize, Octavia. You will regret it, and I don't want you to regret anything where I'm concerned."

Atticus's mouth became a hard, thin line of resolve the moment Octavia rejected his words with a shake of her head. Something undefinable flashed across his face, but there was no time to decipher it as he turned away from her. Without another word, he strode out of her room again, the door slamming closed behind him.

The echo of another door crashing shut made her mouth tighten with irritation, and she glared at the barrier Atticus had placed between them. The man was the devil himself with that sinfully wicked voice, handsome face, and dear God the size of him. Octavia closed her eyes at the memory of how hard and thick he'd been beneath her hand. She'd been desperate to see him naked, but even though he'd refused, it was still possible to visualize the powerful beauty of his arousal.

At that precise moment, she'd wanted him more than anything else she'd ever longed for in her entire life. He'd wanted to prove he desired her, but he'd done more than that. A small smile tilted her lips. Unfortunately for the Duke of Ashurst, the man had exposed a chink in his armor. Atticus didn't know her quite as well as he thought he did.

He knew she was stubborn, but her stubbornness fell far short of her relentless determination when pursuing a goal. Octavia knew it would be a battle of wills, and it was a battle she had no intention of losing.