The Complete Regency Surrender Collection. Louise Allen

Janvier must have done nothing to warm her during their ride home, Gabriel went to the table near his desk and removed the stopper from the crystal decanter housing his favourite port. His gaze continued to shift to her as he poured the wine into a glass. By the time he reached her side it appeared her attention was back to her surroundings.

      He held the glass out to her. ‘This should warm you.’

      ‘Thank you, although I truly am not that cold.’

      Could her quiet demeanour be a result of his actions with Janvier? If he wanted to regain her favour, he needed to extend an olive branch of sorts. He was not accustomed to apologising, but there were times it was necessary.

      ‘Please forgive my behaviour with the Comte earlier this evening. I only wished to ensure that he would treat you with the utmost respect.’

      She looked up from her glass. ‘You had said as much before I left. I accept your apology.’ Their eyes held as she slowly took a sip. Her small smile peeked out from the rim. ‘Giving a woman port while entertaining her in your study, what would people say?’

      ‘Some might say I am a man bent on seduction,’ he said with a quirk of his lips.

      ‘Only some?’

      ‘The others would just be shocked.’

      ‘For inviting a lady into your sacred domain or for plying her with port?’

      ‘Could I ply you with port to seduce you?’

      Olivia slowly shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. ‘You forget that I am quite familiar with your methods.’

      Their verbal sparring matches always made him smile. She looked away suddenly. He placed a finger on the side of her jaw and directed her gaze back to him.

      ‘And what are my methods?’

      ‘You will see that I drink just enough wine to lower my inhibitions sufficiently so that I agree to do things that, in the light of day, I would never consider.’

      The air left Gabriel’s lungs and he laughed. ‘Well, Duchess, I am very familiar with you and know even without the assistance of drink you have done things no proper Duchess would ever consider doing in the light of day. You cannot blame wine for your actions.’

      ‘I have no idea what you are referring to,’ she said, raising her brows innocently. ‘I believe you have reached an age that causes one’s memory to falter.’

      ‘Is that so? So you never swam naked with me in a pond in Kent and then ravaged me on the shoreline?’

      ‘Ravaged is such a strong word.’

      ‘And you never tied me to your bed with your stockings while I slept, so I would be late for my morning appointments?’

      ‘As I recall you were late for all your appointments that day.’

      ‘Because we never left your bed.’

      ‘That was not entirely my fault.’

      ‘And then there was the time you dismissed the staff from serving dinner in the dining room.’

      ‘I simply wanted to converse with you without being overheard.’

      ‘Because you wanted to discuss which dessert tasted better on your skin.’

      ‘A discussion that should not be had in the presence of servants. Every Duchess is aware of that rule.’

      ‘What about the time you crawled onto my lap in a moving carriage of your own volition and whispered sweet suggestions in my ear, leaving me no choice but to take you then and there?’

      She stilled, then sauntered to the chair he had recently vacated. His gaze was drawn to her shapely bottom, the curve of which would appear as she moved.

      ‘You appear to remember quite a bit of what I did years ago,’ she said.

      ‘You did some very memorable things. In fact, if memory serves, during one visit to see my parents did you not—’

      ‘Yes. Yes. You made your point. You had your moments as well.’

      The annoyance in her tone made Gabriel laugh. He stepped closer, and she pick up his leather-bound book and cocked her head to read the spine.

      ‘How many times have you read this?’

      ‘I have lost count. In any event, that is Cowper’s version. It’s closest to the original text,’ he replied defensively.

      She tossed the book on the table and reclined back in his chair. ‘I had forgotten how comfortable this chair was. It almost begs one to curl up with a book and not be proper.’ There was sadness in her eyes, as if she too had missed the happy times they had spent together.

      ‘And how improper did you want to be?’ he asked as his body was pulled by an invisible force to stand in front of her.

      She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘I was referring to my posture.’

      ‘So was I,’ he replied, flashing her a devilish grin.

      She shifted her gaze back to the fireplace. If only he knew what was whirling through that mind of hers. Perhaps he could distract her enough to erase the sadness in her eyes.

      Slowly he removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the table. This didn’t seem to improve her mood, but he wasn’t finished. Lifting her effortlessly into his arms, he resumed his seat and settled her on his lap with her legs draped over the armrest. Then he handed her back her glass.

      ‘You were in my chair.’ It was as much an explanation of his action as he was willing to admit to her. He guided her hand with the glass to his mouth and took a sip of port.

      ‘I did not agree to share that with you,’ she said with a furrowed brow.

      ‘Would you care to have the wine back? I believe if you slip your tongue into my mouth you may taste some of the remnants.’

      A smile tugged on the corner of her lips. ‘I am in a generous mood. You may keep the wine you have stolen.’

      ‘Unlike you, I do not mind sharing.’

      She hid her smile with the rim of the glass and was forward enough to lick her lips slowly after taking a sip. It would be miraculous if she didn’t feel his arousal underneath that beautiful bottom of hers.

      He wanted her. He wanted to taste those lips. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and not pull out until they both were completely spent.

      Taking his finger, he angled her face towards him and lowered his lips to hers. At first he had to coax her to open up to him, but it didn’t take long before she was participating fully in the kiss—tasting like hot cherries from the port. Could he ever be this close to her without wanting to lose himself in her?

      She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly pulled back.

      ‘I have no desire to ruin my gown with wine.’ She sat up and placed her glass on the table next to them. But instead of resuming their kiss she rested her head on his chest.

      Did that kiss have no effect on her at all? Gabriel stared up at the ceiling debating if he should kiss her again. Then he felt Olivia’s fingers work on the knot at his throat.

      ‘Do not assume I am doing anything more than ensuring that I am not the only one who is slightly dishevelled,’ she said.

      ‘I would not dream of it.’

      She wasn’t dishevelled in the least, but he wasn’t about to point that out.

      As she sat up, she unwound the linen from his neck and carelessly dropped it over the side of his chair. ‘You looked a bit uncomfortable,’ she explained, placing her head back on his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his neck. ‘You are not considering picking that up and folding it neatly, are you?’

      Surprisingly