Livy tilted her head. “What is it?”
He paused, his instincts warring. A part of him wanted to protect her from the filth of his past, which had bled into the present. Another part trusted her to handle the truth. She had accepted everything he’d shared thus far, and he craved her sweetness, the absolution that only her love could give.
Squaring his shoulders, he said, “In my younger days, I was friends with Edgecombe, Bollinger, and Thorne. We were known as the Four Horsemen due to our wild rakehell ways. I stopped associating with the scoundrels years ago, but my plan is to infiltrate the group. To become a Horseman once again so that I may track down Fong and eradicate the Devil’s Bliss.”
24
It was nine o’clock by the time Ben led Livy into his suite. Having her in his private sanctuary, looking so petite and innocent in her rosy frock, brought his fantasies to vivid life. As she took in the forest-green walls and mahogany furnishings with avid curiosity, she could be Little Red Riding Hood stumbling into the dark woods. He didn’t know if he was the huntsman or the wolf: he wanted to both protect and ravish her.
“It is strange how many times I have been in your home but never in here,” she mused.
He came up behind her, helping to remove her pelisse and stealing a whiff of her mouth-watering scent: peach blossoms, subtle soap, and Livy.
“A gentleman’s bedchamber was no place for a little girl,” he murmured.
“I am no longer a little girl.” She gave him an adorably smug look. “Now, I am your lover.”
Hearing her say the word “lover” sent a sizzle through his blood. It didn’t help that she was currently peering at his massive tester bed with unmaidenly interest. He flashed to an image of her lying on that mattress, naked and moaning as he ate her pussy, and his groin burgeoned with heat.
Keep a rein on yourself. Tonight may be the last time you see her for a while. Make the occasion special for her.
At the very least, he could feed her before he pounced on her.
He led the way to his sitting room, where he’d instructed his staff to set up an intimate supper that he could serve himself. They’d followed his instructions to a tee. Hothouse roses bloomed on every surface, beeswax candles bathing the room in a warm glow. A small table stood cozily by the fire, covered with crisp linen and gleaming silver and china. A tiered cart filled with silver-domed dishes sat by the table, as did a bucket of iced champagne.
Ben held out one of the velvet-covered chairs for Livy. “I hope you don’t mind having supper at home. I thought privacy would be best.”
“This is beautiful, Ben.” She gazed around the room in wonder. “All these years, and I never guessed you were a romantic.”
“You did not know me as a lover,” he said huskily. “Would you like champagne?”
She looked at him. “Are you partaking?”
Only she would think to ask. Would care enough to do so.
He shook his head. “But don’t let that stop you.”
“I don’t need champagne.” She smiled at him. “I feel giddy already.”
The truth was he felt a bit giddy himself. Like a lad going courting for the first time, filled with anxious hope and desire. Given his advanced years and experience, it was rather embarrassing.
Ben cleared his throat and reached for the dishes at the top of the cart. “As we are fending for ourselves this eve, allow me to serve you.”
He placed the hors d’oeuvre in front of her, grilled oysters wrapped in bacon and drizzled with a creamy caper sauce. Taking a plate for himself, he joined her at the table.
“I am famished.” She dug in, her eyes closing briefly in bliss. “This is delicious.”
Ben had always enjoyed watching Livy eat. Unlike Arabella, who’d constantly been on some slimming plan or another, Livy ate the way she did most things in life: with gusto and unaffected joy. As she slid a bacon-wrapped morsel between her lips, making a little sound of pleasure, he felt a primal tug low in his belly. Christ, the passion in her…
“Tell me more about the Horsemen,” she said between bites. “How did you meet them?”
Her question punctured his lustful musings. At Chen’s, she had greeted his plan to infiltrate Edgecombe’s group with remarkable equanimity. She had, of course, voiced her concerns about his safety, and he had tried his best to allay them while pointing out the merits of his strategy. His prior connections to the group gave him a unique opportunity to discover what those bastards were up to currently. All he had to do was bluff his way back into the fold and follow the trail to Fong.
Livy had pleaded for him to let her assist, but he’d stood firm.
“The best way you can help is by giving me peace of mind,” he’d told her. “I can better concentrate on convincing Edgecombe and the others to reveal their secrets if I know you are safe and out of harm’s way.”
She’d sighed. “Will you always be this overprotective?”
“Of you? Always.” He’d meant it. “I will always try to keep you safe…even from me.”
“I do not need to be protected,” she’d protested. “Least of all from you.”
Her present question, however, reminded him that he hadn’t told her everything about his degenerate past. As he looked into the limpid pools of her eyes, shame crept over him. Their difference in age was magnified by their difference in experience: her heart and soul were untainted by life whereas his were stained by so many sins, big and small.
Yet he’d promised himself that he would not lie to her; he owed her the truth so that she could decide whether he was worthy of her love. Buying himself time, he served the soup course before answering.
“After my actions led to Griggs’s suicide, I numbed
