Ben gritted his teeth. Given her determined nature, Livy excelled at anything she put her mind to. At the moment, she seemed intent upon driving him out of his godforsaken mind. And he could not stop her without giving away their presence to the bastards on the other side of the curtain.
His former Horsemen cronies Edgecombe, Thorne, and Bollinger were scoundrels who’d think nothing of ruining a lady’s reputation or using it as leverage to get what they wanted. Stamford, who appeared to be the group’s newest recruit, had a reputation for being equally ruthless.
Thus, Ben had no choice but to hold still as Livy rubbed against him like a needy kitten. The rounded curves of her derriere rocked against his groin, testing the limits of his self-control. To his eternal damnation, he was hard. Her blend of innocence and sensual intuition made her a better tease than the most experienced of courtesans. She somehow managed to wedge his erection into the crevice of her arse, caressing his turgid length between her pert curves.
Bloody fuck. He bit back a groan as her movements wrung a drop of seed from his tip.
He reminded himself of all the reasons this was wrong. This was Livy: she was too young and innocent. She meant too much to him and was the daughter of his closest friend.
His arguments were countered by the naughty persuasion of Livy’s bottom. He tried to hold her still, tightening his arm around her waist and putting his other hand on her hip. That only made matters worse, for then she was tucked up even closer, and he felt the lushness of the curve beneath his palm as well. Christ, she had perfect hips, the kind a man could hold onto as he plowed her from behind…
No. He clenched his jaw, fighting to master himself. Do not go there.
But Livy would not hold still. She started a new circular motion that dotted his brow with sweat. He began to recite the Kings of England in his head. When that didn’t work, he tried the breathing techniques he’d learned from Chen. When that failed to override the sublime cradle of Livy’s arse, he resorted to praying.
Please, God, don’t let me do this. Don’t let me ruin the one good thing in my life…
“Well, gentlemen, back to business, eh?” Edgecombe drawled. “We’ve rounds to make.”
The men left the study—about bloody time.
Hearing the door close, Ben shoved his way out of the curtains. He dragged in breaths, fighting his raging arousal. The tap on his shoulder nearly made him jump. He swiveled to see Livy standing there, her eyes glowing jade jewels in her mask, her cheeks flushed beneath the rim of gold.
“I want you, Hadleigh,” she whispered. “Please won’t you make love to me?”
Her entreaty nearly undid him. Christ, how could he have not known that his little friend would mature into the stuff of his deepest, darkest fantasies? She was the very blend of spirit and submissiveness that never failed to arouse him. Combined with her wanton innocence, she was a Siren’s song to his lustful nature.
God, God, how he wanted her…
He curled his hands. You cannot have her. You are not good enough for Livy, and you cannot hurt her…the way you’ve hurt so many others.
He opened the cages of his past, forcing himself to confront another pair of eyes, these ones staring up at him in the darkness. Hold on, he heard himself shout. His soul rumbled with the force of the oncoming train as she smiled and let go, choosing death over his attempt to right a wrong…
Arabella surfaced from the swamp of memory, rising in a blood-soaked chemise. She walked toward him, her raven hair tangled and wild, her eyes unblinking. “You wanted this pregnancy. Now it has killed me and our babe, and it is all your fault…”
A man’s voice cut in. “I beg of you, Hadleigh, have mercy. Don’t destroy me, I didn’t mean to hurt your sister…”
With will borne of practice, Ben shut his demons back into their cages. They had served their purpose. He was in control once more and aware of what needed to be done.
I’m destined to hell, but I will not take Livy with me.
“I will never make love to you, Olivia. There is no future for us,” he said with cold ruthlessness. “You cannot give me what I need. I want a real woman, not some silly little girl.”
She blinked, the sheen in her eyes slamming into him like a fist. Yet Livy, being Livy, didn’t give up.
“I know I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous…with Sheffield, I mean,” she said, her voice hitching. “That was childish, and I’m sorry. But if you’ll only give me a chance—”
“How many times must I reject you in order for you to understand?” he said harshly. “I’m telling you once and for all: give up your juvenile fantasies and stay the bloody hell away from me.”
He saw the moment he broke her. The pain in her eyes reminded him of how he’d felt, beaten and bloodied, in the alleyway. Yet that suffering had been a necessary step in his healing, and it would be for her too.
Hell, he was her goddamned opium, even if she didn’t know it. But he did. Unlike that unfeeling drug, however, he refused to destroy her. His little queen…who meant too much to him.
“You want me to stay away?” Livy choked out. “Fine, I’ll go. And you’ll never have to see me again.”
She ran from him.
Hands fisted by his side, he let her go.
11
1844, Strathaven Estate, Scotland
Livy is 15; Ben is 27
Livy wandered down the holly-festooned halls of Strathmore Castle. It was Christmas Eve, and the sounds of merriment spilled from the drawing room. Her parents were hosting a week-long holiday party with over three dozen guests in attendance. After supper, the furnishings had been pushed aside for an impromptu dance party, with Aunt Thea playing the pianoforte and Aunt Rosie
