Chapter 13

S tartled, Octavia blinked in confusion as Atticus put two feet between them. Emotions she couldn't identify drew his facial muscles taut until his face resembled a stone fa?ade. Fear took root in her stomach.

"Atticus? What's wrong?"

"Before we go any further, we must come to an agreement."

"I don't understand." Octavia frowned in puzzlement at the quiet, but resolute note in his sinful voice.

"There are concessions that need to be made before I'll agree to bed you."

"Concessions?" Confusion and fear made her voice hoarse as she stepped back and stared up at him in bewilderment.

"Yes." Atticus's beautiful voice was cold and terse. It frightened her.

"Is that how things are usually done when two people decide to be lovers?" Octavia drew her head back, then tipped it to one side to eye him with surprise. "I have no expectations of you, Atticus."

" No — no expectations ?" The dark savagery in his voice belied his emotionless, stony features. "Has it not occurred to you that I might have expectations?"

Startled, Octavia met his gaze with growing confusion, then narrowed her eyes at him.

"Exactly what kind of expectations do you have, Atticus?"

"I don't want a mistress. I want a wife. You , to be precise." Quiet and sincere, his words made her stare at him in dismayed horror.

" Wife ," she exclaimed. "Are you saying you want to marry me?"

"Yes." Atticus's unreadable gaze met hers with a steady look that alarmed her. "Since you're so hellbent on sharing my bed, I insist it be a permanent arrangement. I'll not agree to anything less."

His soft reply sent her reeling. Had the man actually just proposed? One thought after another careened and spiraled out of control inside Octavia's head as she stared at him in disbelief. Atticus was one of the most eligible men in the Marlborough Set. He could marry any woman he wanted. Octavia studied his indecipherable expression for a long moment. With a bewildered shake of her head, she frowned in puzzlement.

"Why would you want—"

A chill swept across her skin as she realized it wasn't necessary to finish asking the question. Octavia's spine stiffened as she studied his stony features. Head tilted at a haughty angle, she eyed him with icy contempt.

"I see. Will my dowry be enough for you, or will you need to ask my father for a larger settlement?"

"Do not insult me, Octavia." Fury made Atticus's eyes a stormy blue, and outrage hardened his handsome features. His anger was almost a tangible force as his hand slashed through the air in a gesture of outraged disgust. "I don't want your goddamn money."

"As I recall, your sister pointed out I was an heiress a few moments after she questioned your financial stability that night in the garden."

"You seem to have forgotten I told Liza the family's finances were well in order. I don't need or want your money. I'll sign every goddamn pound over to you to do with as you wish before you marry me." Atticus flung his caustic reply across the space between them as if each word was an arrow dipped in poison.

"You would do that?" she gasped.

"I'm not used to someone questioning my integrity," he snarled with a savagery that made her jump. "But yes, Your dowry will be signed over to you before we wed."

Dumbstruck, Octavia stared at him in amazement, and his features darkened with anger. Eyes the color of violent thunder clouds narrowed on her as Atticus leaned forward to tower over her.

"You look surprised, Octavia. Do you really think I'm the kind of man who would risk his life for your money?"

"I don't…I…" Her voice trailed off as she continued to study him with confusion and astonishment.

The man had just said he wouldn't have risked his life for her money. But he had risked his life to come here and ensure she was safe. When he'd arrived, he'd made it clear he'd wanted to apologize for the night they'd met. It didn't make a bit of sense. She scowled up at him with suspicion.

"And what about the Marlborough Set? Everyone knows the Duke of Ashurst can have any woman he wants."

Octavia tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but knew she'd failed when Atticus narrowed his gaze at her, her heart skipped a beat at the disturbing emotion she saw glittering there.

"That might be true, but it doesn't matter." Atticus agreed with a nonchalant nod, his anger vanishing. "Because the only woman the Duke of Ashurst wants is you ."

Still struggling to understand Atticus's reason for offering to make her the Duchess of Ashurst, she frowned in bewilderment. When she remained silent, Atticus released a sigh of disgust. An odd expression swept over his beautiful masculine features as he studied her for a long moment, then clearing his throat, he cocked his head to one side.

"Is the thought of marrying me that repugnant, Octavia?" The question was quiet and devoid of any emotion.

As she considered his query, Octavia nibbled at her lower lip. Would marriage to Atticus be that horrible? He'd just asked her to be his wife, yet he'd not mentioned having any feelings for her. Could she marry him knowing how much she loved him, with no guarantee he'd ever feel the same way?

Abrupt and sharp, every cell in her body screamed in shock as the cold, brutal truth chilled her from the inside out. In one vicious beat, her heart sent ice sluicing through her veins as she struggled not to sway on her feet. When? When had she been so foolish as to fall in love with the Duke of Ashurst? The question rocked her to the bottom of her soul, because the answer was immediate.

She'd loved him from the first moment she'd seen him across the room at Lyndham House. It was why she couldn't stop painting portraits of him. With every stroke of her brush, Octavia had bared her soul to anyone who saw the paintings. Her mouth went dry at the thought. Thank God, he'd not seen the other portraits.

"I asked you a question, Octavia." Mouth thinned with anger, Atticus's fierce glare ordered her to answer him. Frantically, her brain scrambled for an answer. Unable to find one, she dodged his demand with a query of her own.

"You said you don't want my dowry, so why in God's name would you want to marry me ?" she demanded.

"I'm surprised you don't already know the answer."

"I wouldn't have asked the question if I knew the answer, you arrogant bastard." Anger made her hands curl into fists at his insouciant demeanor.

"Because I like you."

Beneath the soft, velvety caress of his seductive voice, Octavia heard another thread of emotion. She trembled as she tried to identify it. It was as if there were words he'd left unspoken. Was he saying he cared for her?

Isn't that what liking someone means, Octavia? Didn't he just say he wanted to marry you because he likes you?

It wasn't the same thing as love. When she didn't speak, a small smile touched his lips, while his heat engulfed her as the space between them vanished.

"I don't think you find me too objectionable, Octavia. And I know we desire one another. You mentioned the necessity for pleasure in the bedroom last night. I can offer you that and more. But I harbor no doubt that our marriage would be a happy one."

Beneath his scrutinizing gaze, Octavia's heart skipped a beat. Soft and compelling, the sincerity in his voice hovered between them. There was something fervent and heartfelt in his last statement that made her heart slam into her chest.

Emotions she never knew she possessed brutally slashed into her heart with the same power as a stormy sea battered the shore. Atticus narrowed his eyes at her, his intense, piercing gaze.

Fear wrapped around her with a suddenness that chilled her. His proposal had been delivered as a requisite of bedding her. It was a barrier he intended to erect if she refused him. It made no sense. Why would he make it clear he wanted her, only to deny them the passion and delight of that desire if she didn't accept him?

"I know you're finding it difficult to believe we can be happy together, Octavia. But I believe we can," he said with a quiet patience that threatened to make her yield to him. Alarmed, she gave a vehement shake of her head.

"Are you mocking me?" she spat out, terrified he was doing just that.

"No, I'm not. What I'm saying is that I want to marry you for who you are," Atticus said with a gentleness that alarmed her almost as much as the warm, reassuring note in his voice. Fire scorched her skin the moment he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "While there are other reasons to marry me, the only one that truly matters is that I want the woman I've come to like and respect as my wife. I know I can make you happy if you'll just say yes."

For a moment, Octavia studied the sincerity and warmth on his face. In his eyes, she saw a flicker of something that gave her hope. In the next breath, she stiffened and jerked back from him.

"What other reasons?"

" For Christ's sake, Octavia . I just told you there's only one reason that matters."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear, but I'm not asking you about the only reason that matters," she snapped as she narrowed her gaze at him. "I'm asking about the reasons you've not mentioned, Atticus."

"Desire," he bit out with frustration.

"What else?"

"A promise of passion."

"There isn't any difference between the two."

"No, they're two different things, but you asked about reasons to marry me," he growled. "You make me laugh. You aren't intimidated by me, and there are all the things we have in common, our enjoyment of painting for example."

When he didn't continue listing the reasons why she should marry him, Octavia frowned. Studying his handsome features, her heart sank the instant she saw worry flash in his eyes. Octavia shook her head, and resignation crossed his strong, masculine features. It only strengthened her belief he was hiding something.

"No, there's something else, isn't there? What aren't you telling me?"

Atticus remained silent, and Octavia's mouth went dry. He'd said he didn't want her dowry and would sign it over to her. He'd said the only reason that mattered was that he wanted to marry her for who she was. If all that was true, why did she still think there was another reason? A reason he knew she wouldn't like. What other—Octavia grew still as her eyes widened with renewed horror.

"You think I'll have no choice but to marry you because there will be a scandal."

"Yes, which is why I'm asking you now. I want you to be my wife, not because honor demands I marry you, but because I believe we can be happy together," he said in a gentle voice. She dismissed his answer with a fierce shake of her head.

"That's ridiculous. No one needs to know—"

" Damnit, Octavia . Think about what you're saying. Do you honestly believe people won't find out we were alone together all this time? It won't matter that a blizzard trapped us here," he bit out with restrained anger. "Servants talk, and people will find out. Then there's you ."

"I will be a brief side note in the scandal sheets."

"No, that's not what I mean when I say there's you ," he said softly as she met his gaze. "I'm talking about how difficult it is for me not to throw caution to the wind and bed you. It happens every time I get near you. You cannot begin to fathom how much I want to have you in whatever way I can. My body, my entire being, craves you. Even now, it's as if someone is branding me with the very essence of you. The mere sight of you or the sound of your voice makes me yearn to have you under me as I teach you what genuine passion is.

Blue eyes glittered with a fiery hunger, and the need she saw in his gaze took her breath away. Atticus leaned into her even more until there was almost no space between them at all.

"A moment ago, you said desire and passion were the same thing. You couldn't be any more wrong, Octavia. Desire ignites the flame, but passion is the raw, potent hunger for one's lover in its most primitive form." Atticus shook his head as his eyes darkened to a stormy hue. "Desire satisfies you physically, but passion breathes life into lovemaking. Passion ensures you're satisfied physically and emotionally."

Atticus's words were fervent with an emotion that made her heart skip a beat. Was he saying that as her lover he would satisfy her emotionally? Was he saying he cared for her? He'd said he liked her, but could his feelings run deeper? Hope unfurled in her blood. A large, masculine hand cupped her cheek, and fire raced along her nerve endings until one white-hot frisson after another cascaded across her skin. Atticus dragged in a deep breath as his thumb ran across her bottom lip, then pressed down on it.

"You've asked me to be your lover, but we can be so much more, Octavia. I want us to experience passion, not just desire, in each other's arms. Shall I tell you what passion will look like when I make love to you, my voluptuous, fiery Aphrodite?"

Octavia swallowed a moan as Atticus's fingers trailed a lazy path to the base of her throat. The gentle, almost intangible, caress left her skin burning as if he'd dragged a torch across her throat and downward.

"Last night, I told you how much I wanted to teach you all the ways sin can be pleasurable, Octavia. I still do. I want to explore every plump, succulent curve of you. Curves that would make any of the Greek goddesses jealous. Your body is a temple ripe for me to plunder and worship. And by God, I'll make your body a shrine of sin and wicked pleasure.

"When I make love to you, I plan to tease and pleasure every lush, voluptuous inch of you. I'll use every wicked, shocking act I can think of to make you beg for your release. And if you knew how badly I want to fuck you right now, Octavia, you'd be thinking twice about refusing to marry me."

The crudity of his words made Octavia's eyes widened and stare up at him flabbergasted. His facial muscles were taut with hunger as his gaze swept downward to the apex of her thighs. Intangible and fiery, it made her sex clamor for his touch, and she tried to breathe. The man had barely touched her, and yet it was as if she'd stepped into a fire that would consume her.

"That shocks you, doesn't it? My telling you how much I want to fuck you. Shall I tell you all the other things I'll do to you that are just as shocking, but oh so pleasurable, my beautiful Aphrodite?"

The words were a dark rumble rising in his chest and past his lips. His hand left her cheek, and his fingertips traced a path down to the base of her throat. Octavia fought to breathe as he slipped his forefinger between the valley of her breasts, then slid it in and out with leisurely strokes. It imitated another carnal act, and her body cried out for him to appease the hunger that had erupted inside her.

"I asked you last night whether or not I should show you all the different ways I could kiss you. You didn't answer me, Octavia, but let me tell you about one of the more shocking and pleasurable kisses I plan on introducing you to.

"First, I'm going to make you lie down and spread your legs wide so I can see your glistening sex. Then I'm going to take my time kissing my way up along your leg until your body is writhing with need for me. You'll be so hungry for my cock, you'll be screaming for me to fuck you and ease your body's craving. But before I do that, I'm going to dip my tongue into your tight, hot sex and drink that tangy cream of yours."

The imagery he'd conjured up in her head made Octavia gasp. Not with shock, but with a wicked anticipation that made her sex tighten and clench at the thought of his tongue exploring her. Octavia's mouth grew dry, and a low moan whispered past her lips. The sound made the corners of Atticus's mouth tip upward with satisfaction as he arched his eyebrows.

"Are you shocked at the thought of me fucking you with my mouth, Octavia? You won't be the moment my tongue flicks over that sweet, succulent bud at the core of your sex. You're going to forget everything but the pleasure. In one blinding instant, you're going to scream as you beg me to fuck you with my mouth over and over again. And do you know what will happen when I suck on that sweet nub of flesh at the heart of you, sweetheart?

"You'll going to sob with need, my perfect, plump Aphrodite. It's going to be a hunger you've never experienced before in your life. In fact, you're going to want my cock so bad, you'll be ready to sell your soul to me. You're going to plead, demand, and use that lusty tongue of yours to call me all sorts of names. You're going to do all that simply to make me ease your hunger."

Octavia gasped at the wicked smile on Atticus's mouth as he closed his eyes. He was rigid with tension, and his throat bobbed before he looked at her again. His arousal evident, his hand moved up her waist to cup her, before he bent his head to kiss the tops of her breasts. His fingers tugged against the top of her corset so his finger could slide between it and her skin. The instant he found the hard tip of her, a quiet whisper of need filled the air between them. Atticus shuddered hard against her.

"God, I want to suck on you so badly right now, Octavia. I want to scrape my teeth over that hard peak, then suck on you until you're pleading with me to satisfy you."

Incapable of speaking, her eyes fluttered close beneath the blaze of lust in his gaze as he continued.

"I know you want me now, but I don't think you're feeling the same intense hunger I've been feeling for quite some time. So, let me tell you how I'm going to make you even hungrier for me. When I've finished drinking that tart cream of yours. I intend to do something even more wicked with your lush body. I'm going to flip you over and pull you up on your hands and knees until that beautiful, sweet ass of yours is displayed in all its glory.

"That's when I'm going to stroke your fiery core. Ever so slowly, I intend to slide first one finger, then another, and another into your hot, tight channel. I'm going to make you shatter as your body clenches around my fingers.

" That's when I'll take you, Octavia. I intend to slide my hard cock into you from behind. But I'm going to take my time with that tight cunny of yours. I want to watch my cock moving in and out of you until it's coated with your white-hot heat. With every slow, torturous stroke of my cock, I'm going to send you into a mind-numbing bliss, but I'm not going to satisfy you until I'm good and ready. And that's when I'll fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, my beautiful Aphrodite. I'll drive my cock into you over and over until your body clutches mine so tightly I won't be able to do anything else except explode inside you."

"Oh dear God," she whispered as her eyes met his, and her heart skipped a beat at the carnal desire in his stormy gaze. Every inch of her ached with the same hunger she saw in Atticus's eyes. His gaze narrowed on her.

"Then, when we've both recovered from that pleasurable exercise, I'm going to teach you other hedonistic acts that will make you gasp with shock before you beg for me to perform them on you. Acts few women outside a brothel are familiar with. Christ Jesus , just thinking about it makes me hard."

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and slowly pulled her hand down toward his groin. She whimpered with a raging hunger for his touch as Atticus made her stroke him through his trousers. He was as hard as he'd been last night, and her fingers reached for the buttons of his trousers, but he stopped her.

"By the time I'm finished with you, my beautiful, plump Aphrodite, you'll be limp with pleasure. All the while, I'll bide my time until I'm ready to fuck you again. That's what you can expect when you marry me, Octavia. I'll give you all of that and much more, but not until you say yes."

Octavia shuddered as Atticus's voice faded into silence. Every inch of her throbbed with a painful, intense yearning for him to do all the things he'd just promised. But was it enough? Would it be enough to love him without being loved in return? The passion he'd just described couldn't last forever without his love.

Passion didn't have to be finite. Octavia was convinced of that. Her parents demonstrated their ardent and deep love for each other in small ways. She'd witnessed too many moments of silent communication between the couple to believe otherwise.

There were the fiery looks on her father's face when he looked at his wife or the seductive, teasing smile Lady Montford would give her husband, only to have her cheeks turn pink as her husband whispered something in his ear. Then there were the moments when Octavia had stumbled onto her parents amid a passionate kiss.

All the moments of intimacy she'd seen exchanged between her parents had strengthened Octavia's belief that her parents, in the privacy of their rooms, demonstrated their fervent love for each other in ways only passionate lovers could. It was the kind of love she wanted, but Atticus hadn't offered her that.

What Atticus had offered her was a passion between them that would be filled with pleasure, even ecstasy, but without love, how could it possibly last? It couldn't. The day his desire for her died, life would become a living hell seeing him everyday knowing he didn't love her. She didn't have the courage to endure such an existence.

Octavia took a quick step back from Atticus, she shook her head, all the while her heart was breaking as she put distance between them. A look of what she thought might be anguish flashed across his face before his expression became that of a marble statue, devoid of emotion.

"I have no doubt we would find the passion you just describe in each other's arms," Octavia said in a soft voice. "But I cannot settle, Atticus. I'm sorry."

The intense desire and passion on his face just seconds ago was gone. There wasn't a single hint of emotion in his impervious expression. Not even the tic in his cheek she'd seen so often as he fought to control his desire for her was evident. His face revealed nothing. When he didn't speak, her heart twisted violently in her breast. It created a physical pain that forced her to suppress a cry of agony. Stomach churning, Octavia swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

"I allowed my desire for you to blind me to everything except the thought of the pleasure I would find in your arms, Atticus. I know I haven't made it easy for you, and I'm terribly sorry for my behavior."

Octavia paused for a moment, trying to determine what he was thinking. When she failed, she winced. What had she hoped for? His forgiveness? She dragged in a deep breath of air, then released it.

"You've acted honorably with me, Atticus, and I have not. I should never have asked you to be my lover. It was selfish and shameful of me to put you in such a difficult position."

"And the scandal?" His voice devoid of emotion, she watched Atticus's mouth thin with either contempt or anger, she didn't know which.

"I'll leave for the Continent, perhaps even America, before the New Year. Whatever scandal this incident brings, it will be short-lived as I'll no longer be in England. My absence will silence any gossip."

Atticus stared down at her without speaking, and Octavia wanted to weep at the pain lashing its way across her body. It was as if someone was whipping her with a riding crop, and it was all the more agonizing as the man she'd been so foolish to fall in love with didn't say a word. The air in the dining room was frigid and cold as he nodded his head with a sharp, curt acceptance of her decision. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

"I'm no longer hungry, so if you'll excuse me, I'll go to my room."

Without waiting for a response, Octavia turned away and walked out of the room. When she was certain Atticus could no longer see her, she ran up the stairs. By the time she closed her bedroom door behind her, tears were flowing in a steady stream down her face.

Unable to take another step, Octavia pressed her back into the door and slowly slid down to the floor. Curled up in a ball, she began to choke out soundless sobs of pain, knowing she would never feel whole again.