Having her here, right beside him, was nearly too much. Nearly. She looked even better and brighter than he’d recalled, her expression constantly curious, her mere presence making it feel as though his world was off-balance. It was odd to see her here in his home; she’d visited the London town house, of course, but that wasn’t where he lived, the place that he felt connected to.

But he did feel that here. He’d been brought here after his mother died, when his father claimed him, and he’d come to know the place as home. It was large, it was extravagant, it was a physical display of his father’s business acumen, and he loved it.

Thank goodness the suggestion to view the library had been made, or he would have taken her off to one of the numerous quiet corners in this behemoth of a house and kissed her senseless.

It almost looked as though she wanted that too; her face had been lifted just so, and there was a sensual anticipatory gleam in her eye that made all different parts of his body react.

But thank goodness he hadn’t kissed her—or her him—since his father and her sisters were all in plain sight.

“The library, as you can see, houses a vast collection, from books on industry and business to my father’s collection of maps and globes and atlases.” Edward could see Lady Ida already eagerly pulling books off shelves and discussing them with his father.

Mr. Beechcroft was a generally happy person, but his expression at this moment was one of delight. Edward was still livid that his father and possibly Bennett had enabled this surprise visit, but at least his father got some benefit out of it.

He couldn’t think it could be anything more. He couldn’t become invigorated in her presence—even though he was—He had to believe the worst would happen, because if he even thought about it, he would begin to hope, and that way would lead to despair.

“Mr. Wolcott, what books are your favorites?”

Why did she have to engage him in conversation? Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?

No, because he hadn’t told her. But he’d shown her, hadn’t he? Or were his kisses not passionate enough, or perhaps he’d kept his expression as guarded as he’d hoped.

What would happen if he did show her? Explicitly, and with her full consent so she could make her own decision?

The thought was appealing, and not just because it meant he would touch her soft skin. Kiss that mouth and caress her body. Feel how she responded to his touch, and how she made him shake when she was near.

The thought was so appealing, in fact, that it took all of his will not to just walk over to her, pick her up, and hoist her up on his shoulders.

As it was, he had to turn and pretend to examine a book so his erection wasn’t so obvious. And he had to spend weeks in the same house with her.

“Mr. Wolcott?”

She’d come to stand next to him, her face tilted up to his, her expression guarded, but also mischievous. As though she were baiting a bear. A bear named Edward.

“Yes, Lady Olivia. My favorite books.” He took her arm and led her over to one of the corners of the room, the one that offered the most privacy. “Why do you ask?”

Because if she was just taunting him, poking at the bear inside him, he needed to know now so he could shut down whatever feelings were swirling inside.

“I want to know more about you,” she said in a quiet, sincere tone. “I know who you think you are. I know who you appear to be. But I don’t know you as well as I wish to.”

“And why do you wish it?”

He froze as she opened her mouth to respond, snapping it shut after a moment.

“Why are you here?” he asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

“I didn’t know we were coming!” she said in a very non-Olivia type of squeak. “Mother said, and I assumed, that we were going to the marquis’s estate. Not here.”

He felt as though she’d punched him in the chest.

“But I didn’t want to go there either,” she continued, the color in her cheeks rising. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

And she sounded so unlike the sparkling blazing Lady Olivia that he grabbed her hand and dragged her back out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

“Where are you taking me?” she squeaked as he pulled her down the hallway, not caring if Olivia’s sisters were aghast in the room behind them.

He knew how his father would respond, so he didn’t have to worry on that score.

“Here,” he said, thrusting her into one of the rooms where his father’s business managers came for meetings. He closed the door quietly, so nobody could hear where they were.

It was a small sparsely decorated room, suitable for meetings with people who might otherwise get overwhelmed at the genteel opulence on display in the rest of the house.

He sat down on the chair where the managers usually sat and hauled her onto his lap, curling his hand possessively over her waist, holding her in place. Even though she could get up at any time—his holding her was mostly for him.

Because she knew he wouldn’t do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself.

“Well,” she said, exhaling so gustily a piece of hair flew up into her eye. “That was unexpected.”

He grinned at first, and then burst into laughter. “It was. I think I am taking on the more unfortunate habits of that forceful duck. Taking what I want no matter what is fair. I know this isn’t fair,” he said. “And I know that you are greatly concerned with fairness.”

She swatted his arm, and then leaned against his chest. It felt too good. “It’s fair if there is an equal give and take.”

“I don’t think it will be fair if I sit on you,” he said, arching his brow.

“Not that,” she replied, sliding her hands around his neck. “But this.”

How many times had she kissed him? It had to be at least three now, though it would never be enough.

This time, though, wasn’t outside on a terrace or in a hallway. They were in their own private world, albeit a world inside his house with their relatives only a few yards away. But still, the door was shut and they were alone, and her mouth was on his, and her hands were moving in his hair, sliding along his scalp, making him want to have her touch him everywhere.

Especially there. The part that was standing up and taking notice of her actions. The part she was sitting on.

He drew her close and kissed her, pulling her closer against his chest, shifting her so his cock was just under her delectable bottom.

She had to feel it. She had to know what she was doing to him.

And then she leaned closer, her breasts pushing against him, his cock throbbing in delicious agony. She placed one hand on his chest, sliding it under his jacket, over his waistcoat, her fingers beginning to work the buttons free.

He broke the kiss, gasping, and moved his hand to the bottom of his waistcoat, undoing the buttons furiously, meeting her fingers in the middle. Within seconds, he’d managed to shrug off his jacket, tossing it to the ground, his waistcoat following, and then they were both tugging on his shirt. She drew it up over his head and he was momentarily blinded, and then saw her face as she threw the shirt in the air, heedless of where it would land.

She was grinning, and he smiled back, and then—thank God—her hands were on his skin, her palms sliding all over him, her gaze focused on his face, on his reactions.

She slid her fingers over his nipple and he closed his eyes, letting the sensation of her touch be all that he felt.

“That seems as though it is particularly interesting,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“It is, Olivia, and you should never stop doing it.”

The words came out before he could think, and then he felt her reaction as she withdrew her hands and shifted, then got off his lap entirely.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have reminded her about it, that this was something that not only should they not be doing now, but that it was something they would never be doing in the future.

Because, according to her, she would be married to his best friend, and this would all be a painful, embarrassing memory.

“I should go back.”

He opened his eyes, wincing as he saw the look on her face. A look he couldn’t entirely gauge, but looked suspiciously like regret, anger, and shame.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—this is entirely my fault.”

She raised one of her eyebrows in that proud Olivia look he couldn’t help but admire. Even if she was currently staring him down, not an errant duck or a snobbish lord.

“I had just as much to do with all of this as you. To say it is your fault is to deny my part in it, as though I am just a puppet for your—your lustful behaviors.” The color was high on her cheeks, and he felt himself starting to laugh, but smothered it.

But of course she noticed.

“And now you are laughing at me—again, might I say?” She planted her fists on her hips and glared at him, but he could see the glimmer of humor in her eyes.

Perhaps she thought this was funny as well, but of course her maidenly demeanor and upbringing meant she absolutely must not indicate she did.

“No, of course not.” He rose, grimacing as his still erect cock brushed against the front of his trousers. Leaning over to pick up his discarded shirt and putting it on, then grabbing his waistcoat and jacket from the floor.

Was her expression wistful as he put his clothing back on? Or was that just his hope?

They didn’t speak, and he didn’t trust himself to touch her, so he opened the door for her and gestured for her to go ahead, unable to keep from looking at her back as she walked quickly down the hallway back to the library.

If this was what they ended up doing after only an hour of being together, what would happen when they were in one another’s company for weeks on end?

Thank God—or goddamn it—Bennett was arriving tomorrow.