Edward held his breath as Olivia touched him. His cock throbbed, hard and insistent, in her hand.

She ran her fingers up and down his shaft, tentatively at first, and then curling her hand around him in a delicious grip.

“That’s it,” he said, his fingers splayed out on her skin just below her waist. “A little tighter,” he said, and she held him tighter, making him groan his satisfaction.

“This isn’t hurting you?” she said, more in observation than a question.

“No,” he said, sliding his fingers down her belly to where his cock most wanted to be. She gasped and stilled her hand, and he paused as well.

“Go on,” she said, adjusting her hips so that she was more open to him. He put his fingers into her nether curls and then slid his fingers through, finding her already warm and wet.

“Oh,” she moaned, laying her head back against the bags, moving her body restlessly as he rubbed the little nub at the top of her sex.

“You like this,” he said, leaning forward to lick her neck, then up to her ear, and then he found her mouth, plunging his tongue inside as forcefully as his cock wanted to be inside of her.

She returned to stroking him, and he urged himself into her hand, relishing the friction and how he could feel her breathing get faster as both of their hands moved on one another.

She was quivering under his touch, and he tried to focus on her, focus on her pleasure, on feeling how her body changed the closer he brought her to her peak.

Because she was heading for it, he could tell—her nipples poked sharply against his chest, her breathing was rapid, her grip on his cock was tight.

He lifted his mouth from hers and looked at her, at her eyes unfocused and lost in desire, at her moist lips and flushed cheeks.

He’d thought her beautiful before, but in the throes of passion, she was glorious. Truly the sparkling woman he’d been enchanted by after that regrettable proposal.

And then her eyes closed, and she cried out, her whole body stiffening as she clenched her legs around his hand. He could feel the pulse and tremor of her orgasm, and he slowed his hand, petting her there as she gradually emerged from the bliss.

“Oh my,” she said at last, opening her eyes to look at him. She looked dazed, likely as dazed as he felt.

“Oh my indeed,” he replied, smiling in satisfaction.

She took a deep breath, and then she blinked slowly. “I didn’t know.”

“You hadn’t—?” The thought that she might not have found a way to pleasure herself was surprising. His fierce warrior queen not doing for herself what he had just done for her?

“No, I . . .” And then she blushed more vividly, and he felt a ridiculous swelling in his chest at realizing he’d given her her first orgasm.

Although that wasn’t absolutely correct; he would not have had the opportunity had she not been so willing, so open, and so receptive to his touch.

“You must be,” she said in a halting voice, her eyes darting down to where his cock pressed into her side.

“Yes, but we can wait.” He placed his hand on top of hers, which was still holding him in a loose grip. “Although if you feel as though you are up to it,” he said, a teasing suggestion in his voice.

“Of course I am,” she said in her usual strong tone. And she began to stroke him up and down again, making him shudder. He was so close, he was—

“We should think about marriage.”

The words snapped him out of his sensual haze.

“What?”

She shrugged, looking almost abashed. Which would be odd if their entire circumstances weren’t so odd. “Your father wants you to be married. I know he is ill, and I know how much you love him.”

Nothing about if she loved him.

“My eyes were opened this afternoon,” she said in a low voice. It sounded to him as though she were shouting. “I can’t do everything I want. I want to be able to do as much as I can. Together we can do so much, and you can help guide me, since you know these people so much better than I do.”

His mouth gaped open at her. His cock still in her hand, his heart, apparently, not worth mentioning.

“And this way your father will be happy, and we can continue all of this.” And she released him to gesture around them, the ridiculousness of the situation making him snort.

“All of this?” No mention of how she felt about him. Just that she had become aware she couldn’t do all of it—whatever it was—by herself anymore because she needed some sort of lower-class interpreter, which he was ideally suited for, what with being a bastard. That’s how she thought of him, wasn’t it? She’d never stopped thinking that way.

“Yes, all of this.” She took a deep breath and raised her chin in that way he’d thought he loved. “I know that it only makes sense for us to get married.”

He raised himself onto his elbow to glare down at her. “It only makes sense for us to get married?” he repeated. He rose and found his smallclothes, putting them on hastily, finding his discarded trousers and putting them on as well. She hadn’t moved, just stared up at him with a confused expression. “You said precisely the same thing to Bennett. And it worked out just as well.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “As it happens, my father is much improved. I have plenty of time to find myself a wife. Hopefully one who won’t look down on me because of my birth, who loves me as I love her”—dear God, he loved her, why did she have to be so careless—“and who isn’t just reacting because she got her feelings hurt.”

He regretted those last words as soon as he’d said them, but it was too late to take them back. Her eyes widened, and she got up as well, still entirely unclothed, her whole body seeming to seethe with indignation.

But she was no more indignant than he was.

He leaned over and picked up her shift, which he held out to her. She snatched it out of his hands and tossed it over her head, angrily adjusting the fabric around her body.

“I did not propose because I got my feelings hurt.” She planted her fists on her hips. “I proposed because I know it would help you enormously if you were to marry one of the duke’s daughters. Because I know how much you care for your father, and I know he would be pleased to welcome me as his daughter-in-law. Because this”—and she extended her hand to encompass both of them and whatever had just occurred—“keeps happening, and I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”

She stopped speaking abruptly, clamping her mouth closed.

“You don’t want to lose me.” He swallowed against the tide of emotion in his chest. “But you don’t want to keep me. Or you only wanted me when it seemed your assessment of yourself fell. Would you have asked me to marry you before this afternoon? Before you discovered you weren’t the invincible do-gooder you believe yourself to be?”

“I’m not the one who constantly thinks the worst of themselves because of the accident of their birth.” Her words cut to his heart because in some way he knew they were true.

“But you’re the daughter of a duke, as you say. So you’ve never had to think anything but the best of yourself. Until now.”

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth again, then shook her head and stepped past him to where her corset and gown lay on the chair.

He didn’t know what was happening. Why they had gone so quickly from her pleasure to their mutual displeasure. How she had possibly thought that now was the right time to discuss all of this?

He watched as she picked up her corset and put it back on, tying the laces with unsteady fingers. He stopped himself from going to help, knowing his help wouldn’t be wanted.

Not now.

Eventually she just shook her head in disgust, leaving a few dangling strings, and picked up her gown, holding it up so she could put it back on.

Shaking her body to adjust the fabric, then biting her lip as she tried to reach around to her back.

“Let me,” he said in a quiet voice. He walked to where she stood and did up the buttons, trying not to touch her skin.

“Thank you.”

She turned her head, keeping her gaze on the floor. “I am glad your father is feeling better. I will try to persuade my mother”—and then she chuckled drily—“to go earlier than we’d planned.”

She didn’t say anything else, just picked up the skirts of her gown and opened the door, closing it softly behind herself as she left him alone.

He walked to the door also, but didn’t open it, instead slamming his fist against the wall in frustration.

He loved her. That wouldn’t change.

But he’d never be with her again.