Chapter 13

L ivian stared at Lachlan in consternation.

Even as she wanted to rail at him for his condescending, judgmental, setdown something held her back.

How could he go from tender, teasing, smiling, gallant man in one instant, and the next a surly, snarling beast?

Livian couldn’t quite precisely pinpoint what it was that’d set him off.

What she did know was…he didn’t scare her.

Funny, yesterday at this same time, she and Lachlan were but strangers, and now, she stood here alone with him, unafraid, and also able to ascertain she’d said or done something to displease him.

Her foolish heart…

Maybe he was right, after all.

Livian lifted her chin. “You’re being deliberately ugly, Lachlan,” she chided. “And I do not like it.”

“You think ‘ this’ is ugly?”

Lachlan tossed his head back and laughed, the sound strained and forced.

All the while, she peered at him.

Then, it hit her with the weight of a thousand bricks.

Warmth stirred her heart.

“You’re worried about me,” she whispered.

His cynical amusement cut out.

He gave her a harsh once over. “I don’t worry about anyone but myself.”

“I trust you believe that, Lachlan,” she said softly. “But believing it to be true and actually feeling that way, are entirely two diff—”

He took a slow, sleek, predatory step toward her.

Her mouth dry, she tried to finish. “T-Two different…”

Lachlan continued coming. A feral grin formed on his hard, beautiful lips, transforming him from mesmerizing mortal to savage, a mythical werewolf.

“ Things ,” she managed to get out on a pitchy squeak.

Like a hunter, he stalked Livian, his prey.

The hard, unflinching gaze he had trained on her didn’t elicit the fear she knew he intended to rouse.

No, shamefully, wickedly, wantonly, the heat of his feral gaze melted her inside.

She found herself reflexively backing away not out of fear, but from the power of her craving for him.

Her back collided with her sister’s carriage and ended her retreat.

Still, Lachlan continued his slow march forward.

The punishing turn of his lips said all too clearly just how much he enjoyed himself.

Lachlan Latimer, fiercely primal, wasn’t a man to be teased. Oh, he might have revealed a gentlemanly side, but a savage beast slumbered within him, all the same.

With that, he stopped, so that they were inches apart, but also close enough, she had to crane her head to meet his fierce gaze.

He lowered his lips close to her ear.

Heat poured from his body in slow, undulating waves that rolled through her, and she gave thanks for the carriage at her back that kept her from sagging.

“Do you know what kind of harm could have come to you out here on your own, Livian?” he jeered, singularly unaffected by her.

“I-I could have f-fallen in the mud? Oh, wait. I did that and it turns out I’m quite all right. That is, with the exception of my muddied skirts.”

Livian strove for teasing lightness, but the breathiness of her voice ruined those efforts. Every nerve ending in her heated body remained on high alert of this man and his nearness.

He chuckled. “Oh, it’d involve your gown, darlin’,” he whispered, harshly against her ear. Lachlan moved so quickly, he pulled a gasp from her. “But it’d involve some fellow pinning you like this,” he taunted.

Before she knew what he intended, he drove his body into hers and pressed her against the conveyance.

Instead of repulsion, the forceful way with which he handled Livian caused the most shameful, sharp, ache between her legs to deepen.

She bit her lower lip.

He wasn’t finished goading her.

“He’d grab these same skirts,” he purred. “Just like this.”

Gripping said fabric in his right hand, he unceremoniously yanked the material up.

A cold blast of air hit her bare legs.

Her breath grew ragged.

Livian attempted to swallow but her throat failed at that once rhythmic up and down movement.

“Then, he’d part you this way,” he growled that warning.

Even as he reached for her knee, before he could even demonstrate, Livian moaned low and long and parted her legs for him.

Lachlan froze.

His nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with raw fire giving him the look of an animal.

Then, he brought his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss.

Moaning, Livian opened herself to him, surrendering in every way.

At some point, the anger had gone from his lesson, to be replaced with that gentle, but firm control that threatened to drive her mad with desire.

“You’ve never come, have you, Livian?” he asked hotly while ravaging her mouth. “That is,” he both taunted and tormented, “you’ve probably touched your sweet quim a lot. But you’ve never had a man make you scream as you came.”

His crude speech sent a shameful flood of heat rushing between her legs.

Equally titillated and mortified, she attempted to bury her head against his shoulder.

Laughter rumbled through his frame and shook hers.

Lachlan caught her right hand and dragged it to his mouth. He shifted his attentions to the seam of her wrist, and lightly bit and sucked where her pulse pounded.

“As beautiful as your fingers are, darlin’, your body wants to know what it is to have a real man, isn’t that right?”

She whimpered.

“Let me show you the way, darlin’,” he urged thickly. “Please.”

Please.

This bold, powerful, virile man should beg her?

“ Yes !” she rasped.

She’d never have a loving husband who burned for her and only her, but she’d know what it was to feel actual passion with Lachlan.

It would be enough.

It had to be.

Before she knew what Lachlan intended, he reached between her buttocks and pressed the heel of his palm against the juncture of her thighs.

“Lachlan!” she cried out his name; the call of her desire stark and beautiful in the absolute countryside quiet.

Masterfully, Lachlan stroked her; he slid his long, callused, fingers slowly and gently inside her wet channel and then back. Over and over.

Like a crazed wanton, her entire being tunneled on the agonizing ache. Biting her lip, she pushed herself against Lachlan’s hand, rocking into him.

More. I need more…

He chuckled. “You want more.”

“D-Did I s-say that out loud?” she panted.

“Only with your body, sweetheart,” he said, his voice equally strained. “No words needed.”

Lachlan withdrew his fingers, and she cried out; her hips bucked spasmodically.

“It’s how I know you want something hard between your legs,” he whispered, sucking on her earlobe.

Taking her by the hips, he guided her astride his oak-hard thigh. “Ride me, sweetheart. Ride me like I’m your favorite mount.”

She should be horrified. She should be repulsed, shocked, disgusted with him, but more, horrified at her own wantonness.

For his wicked words set her burning to scorching levels that threatened to set her ablaze from the inside out.

Just like he’d instructed, she began to move on him.

Gripping the globes over her buttocks in a tighter, more delicious hold, he helped her find the rhythm. “Good girl,” he praised.

Livian’s breathing grew shallower then deeper.

She bit her lip. Her entire being remained tunneled on the keen ache between her legs.

Lachlan’s respirations came just as harsh and fast, as if just giving her pleasure was wreaking the same, dizzying, effects upon him, and drove her to a new level of madness.

“You know your way around horses,” he crooned. “I’d love to have you astride me, riding my big cock.”

Livian moaned into his mouth.

Her movement took on an increased urgency.

She rocked wildly against Lachlan.

She was so close…

He burrowed his face against her shoulder, and with his tongue, lips, and teeth, skillfully worshipped her collarbone.

Livian bit her lip hard. “Mmm.”

She dimly registered the metallic tinge of blood that filled her mouth.

Making soothing sounds, Lachlan took the wounded flesh into his mouth and drank away those crimson drops she’d shed.

Despite the chill of the afternoon, sweat beaded at her brow. Her movements grew jerky and frantic, and she desperately surged towards a place of wonder.

“You’re so close, love,” he promised huskily. “I feel the way your thighs are quivering and the way you’re grinding your sweet cunny on me.”

Those naughty words unleashed a fresh wave of molten desire within her.

Lachlan took her hips hard in hand and helped Livian rock back and forth. “There you go, love,” he crooned. “Let yourself have what you really want.”

You. I want you!

Livian tensed; her body climbed to an impossible precipice and then hovered at the edge of some exquisite gloriousness.

Whimpering, Livian hung there, suspended, her exigent need, agonizing.

He slipped a long finger under the globes of her buttocks and toyed with her nub.

“ Come ,” he demanded.

That domineering command sent her body plunging from the peak and into a full crisis.

“Lachlan!” She screamed his name again and again. “ Lachlaan !”

Livian sobbed as she ground herself against his thigh. I don’t want this to ever end.

She wanted to feel this magical bliss forever.

Alas…

On a shuddery gasp, Livian sagged atop Lachlan’s leg.

Panting and fighting for air, she gripped the lapels of his soft wool cloak, and she descended slowly from the high she’d climbed to the stark, cold reality…of what she’d done.

She stilled.

Oh, God.

The forbidden things Lachlan had done to her would be seared in her soul, mind, and body, forever. But he was still a stranger, and she’d allowed him—nay, begged him—to pleasure her.

What was worse?

She couldn’t bring herself to regret having done so. There seemed to be only an absolute right in her meeting him again, here, at this very spot, that’d halted her journey last night and brought them together.

To Livian, her and Lachlan’s chance encounter had been ordained by the stars. Having him touch her and teach her real passion on this same road that’d brought them into one another’s lives, had been an incontrovertible moment.

Reality, in the form of a sharp, biting winter breeze, came rushing back to greet Livian.

For him, on the other hand, what’d transpired here on this fateful road had been borne of anger, annoyance, and more painfully, his desire to teach her a lesson.

Yet, in this instant, Lachlan ran a hand in slow, soothing circles along the small of her back.

It didn’t make sense.

None of this did.

How could it feel so comfortable, so right, in the arms of a man she barely knew, and also a man with whom she’d shared secrets and parts about her life and past, she’d never revealed to any other soul?

A belated shyness managed to make its way to the surface.

What did one say after a moment such as this? Did a lady simply go about conversing with the man who’d thrown her world upside down, like nothing had happened?

“Miss Lovelaace!”

A young voice piped in the distance.

Bennett Driver!

Bloody hell!

With an ease, skill, and efficiency that bespoke a man who’d found himself in the very position he now found himself with Livian, Lachlan set her away from him. In short order, he smoothed her skirts, rearranged her hair, and tidied his own rumpled garments.

“Miiiiiiis Lovelaaaace!”

Unable to meet Lachlan’s eyes, Livian cupped her hands around her mouth. “I’m h-here!”

“A lad,” he groused. Giving his head a disgusted shake. “ This is who you think is going to protect you.”

“Ah, but you know as much as I do, Lachlan, regardless of age, no one who had to live in the ruthless streets of London is, or ever was, really a child.” Striving for a calm she didn’t feel, Livian managed to somehow draw her lips up in a smile. “Despite your earlier annoyance and name calling, Lachlan, I was never really alone.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart?” He cast a lewd glance up and down Livian’s person, one that somehow cheapened what they’d done. “What about when I had you pinned against the carriage and riding my leg.”

Her heart quivered.

No, his coarseness proved it’d only mattered to Livian.

“You are h-horrid,” she said quietly, hating the tell-tale tremble of her voice.

His expression darkened. “I never proclaimed to be a gentleman. You’re just the one who keeps insisting I am.”

Pain lanced through Livian’s heart.

She stared blankly at this man who’d brought her body to exquisite heights and showed her true passion.

Why is he saying these things? Why is he behaving this way?

He clearly sought to shock her; to remind her of his badness.

But…

She drew back.

He is… afraid. Of me? Or believing he is in fact, good and decent?

“Do you know what I think, Lachlan?” she asked, sotto voce. “I think you keep talking about how wicked you are, not for me, but so you can convince yourself you’re bad and not the good, honorable gentleman you are.”

“Would a gentleman stick his fingers in a lady’s cunny, darlin’?” he asked crudely.

Livian didn’t so much as flinch. “Likely not, but with what both know to be true about noblemen, neither can we say that with absolute certainty. As for me?” She shrugged. “I’m not a lady, and I’d venture an actual one wouldn’t have allowed those liberties.”

Fury blazed to life in his eyes.

“Miss Lovelace!”

They spun.

Glaring daggers, and a knife in hand, the small boy looked back and forth between Livian and Lachlan.

“You again!” Caleb snarled and lunged towards Latimer.

“Stand down, Caleb,” she said, firmly. “This is Mr. Latimer.”

“Aye, I know who that one is,” her small but valiant protector growled. “Hauled me from the roads and carried me like a sack, he did.”

Caleb, a veritable David against a Goliath, jabbed the tip of his weapon at the mountain of a man beside them. “Do I need to cut you, Latimer?”

Even with the implausibility of that threat, Lachlan lifted his palms up and took a step back.

“You’ll have to ask Miss Lovelace,” he demurred, showing a small child the same due deference he would a grown man.

And it was all done for Livian—she fell hard, fast, and completely, irrevocably, heels over toes for Lachlan Latimer.

“Well, Miss Lovelace?” Caleb slid a glance her way. “Should I do it?”

Livian spoke around a well of emotion in her throat. “There’ll be no need for that. Mr. Latimer’s been a gentleman.”

Her small protector frowned. “A gentleman?”

“Oh, yes.” She flashed the gentleman in question, a small, secretive smile. “Nothing but .”

Over the top of the boy’s head, Latimer’s eyes widened. “Still with this?” he mouthed.

She waggled her eyebrows.

“Less reason to trust him, then,” Caleb mumbled.

Lachlan chuckled. “On that, we can agree.”

“Oh, yea?” The tow-headed boy angled his chin at Lachlan. “What do you know about it?”

“Everything.”

Caleb gave him a quizzical look.

Lachlan grunted. “I grew up in the Dials. Own a business now.”

The little boy’s eyes went bright. “Gor, do you now?”

And just like that commiseration of two people who’d been born outside the peerage, Caleb found a tie that bound him to Lachlan.

He peppered the proprietor with questions.

The only hint of Lachlan’s discomfort sharing those personal details came in the way he slightly traded weight from his left to right foot.

And yet, he did so for little Caleb.

As if he felt Livian’s eyes upon him, Lachlan glanced over.

She couldn’t even care he found her staring.

His thickly hooded lashes revealed nothing more than an opaque gaze that he swiftly shifted over to a prattling Caleb.

“Caleb,” he dropped a knee beside the boy. “Can you do me the greatest favor and service?”

As little Moira in the stable yard had earlier that morn, the boy grew several inches taller under Lachlan’s attention. “Of course.”

“Your mistress? She needs protecting.”

“Protecting ?” Livian sputtered, the magic daze he’d cast effectively quashed.

Boy and man alike ignored her.

“I’m going to escort you and Miss Lovelace back to the inn. When there, you are to remain with the lady until her driver returns?”

His high-handedness forgotten, Livian’s heart sped up. Lachlan cared enough that he’d see her safely back?

Caleb gave an eager nod. “Will do, sir.”

“That means you don’t let her out of your sight.”

The romantic bubble popped. Livian tossed her arms up. “Of all the most ridiculous—”

A solemn Caleb placed a small hand over his heart. “I understand, Mr. Latimer.”

Lachlan nodded. “I knew you would.” He held his hand out, and this almost proved too much. For the sight of his larger palm and then a much smaller one set off a maelstrom of emotions within her breast.

Ones where she imagined the kind of father Lachlan would be. He would be loyal and a staunch protector. And the woman who stole his heart, he would love fiercely and passionately and confer that same love on any children they had.

Livian felt Lachlan and Caleb watching her and found herself too cowardly to look at the man who, in just a sliver of a moment of time, had wrought havoc upon her existence.

Clearing her throat, she stretched her own fingers out in the same way he’d done for Caleb. “Lach—” she caught herself. “Mr. Latimer.”

He hesitated, then placed his palm around hers, enveloping her hand in such warmth it was impossible to feel the cold.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Latimer, for your concern.”

“Miss Lovelace,” he murmured.

Lachlan drew his hand back so quick her fingers reflexively curled.

Taking that unspoken cue, Livian took Caleb by the hand, and headed back towards the inn.

She’d gone several yards before she found herself looking for Lachlan.

He followed some four or so paces behind Livian.

Then, it occurred to her…

He is keeping his distance from me. He’s making sure we’re no longer alone…

To Lachlan, she remained nothing more than a vexatious chore he happened to pick up last evening.

What should you be? A voice in her head needled. Despite the way in which the world had been tipped off its axis for her, the fact still remained, she was nothing to him. They each had their own lives, and at the end of this surreal interlude, she’d meet her husband, he’d have his new business, and they’d each only harbor the memory of what’d passed here…

Not they.

Livian. Livian, would.

And Livian, even for the hardships she’d faced throughout life, had never felt more miserable…