purple sparkles, showing an extreme amount of upper thigh and with eyes that flashed like flints of steel. Her fists were clenched and that glossy, pouty mouth was pursed. For some reason his body went tight and then hard. She had a particularly sexy way of crinkling her forehead when she was cross. And it irritated him that he’d noticed.
‘Your bags,’ he announced, dropping the multi-coloured luggage that remained wrapped around him to the floor.
She didn’t look at them, just kept those blue eyes set on him.
‘I’d like a word with you.’ Her voice held a warning.
He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been ordered around like that by anyone in years. Even the Prime Minister asked him politely if he’d mind ever so much if they had a quiet chat.
He almost smiled at her audacity. She turned and walked through the door on the right that led into the drawing room and he watched her go, the ridiculous furry coat barely covering her thighs. Her calf muscles tensed as she clacked in her high heels across the two-hundred-year-old stone floors.
He turned to Will, who just shrugged.
‘We’d better get back to the party, mate. Don’t be long. Bunny’s here with the Blenheim Blowhards. I can’t survive them on my own.’
Edward grimaced. The Blenheim Blowhards were the gang of terrifyingly stupid friends his sister Bunny seemed to drag with her wherever she went. He wasn’t sure why. Bunny had brains—the fools she hung around with had nothing but mash between their ears. He avoided them whenever possible.
A nervous look came over Fiona’s face before Will pulled her away and into the room on the other side of the hall where the party was being held.
Edward contemplated which way to go. He didn’t like being ordered anywhere, and the brash woman in his father’s drawing room didn’t deserve his time. But she certainly sparked his interest. What did she want—and why would she want to talk to him privately?
Intrigued, he followed the mini-skirted Mistress of Intrigue through the door.
FOUR
Olivia threw off her coat and tried to form a coherent sentence in her mind as she waited for Edward. She tried to stay calm, but calm was not something she did well. Particularly not when her best friend had just burst into tears.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your exclusive company?’
Edward’s silky voice announced his arrival as he strode into the room. Olivia burned. Who the hell did these people think they were? Edward placed a hand on the floral sofa in front of him and challenged her with his eyes.
‘Believe me, it’s no pleasure. You need to tell your family to back the hell off.’
‘Excuse me?’
Edward raised an eyebrow. Just one. Olivia’s stomach jumped. Angrily she ignored it.
‘Your family are being mean to Fiona and you need to make them stop.’
An irritating smirk slashed across Edward’s square face. ‘They’re being “mean” to her? What is she—in nursery school? Fiona will need to learn to fight if she’s to survive in this family.’
Olivia felt her neck go hot. Being mean to someone for no reason was her pet hate. Actually, her absolute hate. She’d been the victim of mean girls for many years and it had almost broken her. It wasn’t going to happen to her best friend. Not now. Not ever.
‘I don’t know who you lot think you are, but if you and your toffy pals continue to be mean to my friend I will pack our things and leave.’
There. She’d said it. To his snobby face. Be mean to her friend and face the consequences.
* * *
Edward blinked. There was a fire blazing at the end of the room and fire in the eyes of the woman in front of him. He’d shed his coat and scarf but he felt uncomfortably warm.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Olivia paced slowly towards him. Her long, tanned, muscular legs were moving slowly and seductively, and he had to push down the spray of moisture that had just landed in his mouth and cling to the chaise longue in front of him. Her eyes were intent on him and her chin was down. She swayed and sashayed deliberately, without smiling, until she was right in front of him—her head reaching just underneath his chin.
‘I said we will leave.’
But Edward didn’t hear her. All he could concentrate on was her heavy eyelashes and those golden breasts that rose and fell so heavily. He hadn’t seen the full effect of that lurid purple dress before. Her tanned skin glowed against the bright colour in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her hips and he wanted to shift—to move and make himself a little more comfortable—but he didn’t. He just stared down at her, his hands lightly clasped behind his back.
‘You are not obliged to stay. If my family and I are so offensive to you I can call you a taxi. Or perhaps you’d prefer to walk.’
He let his gaze slide across her face and down her neck to take in the jut of her collarbones and that lovely chest of hers. Then he moved his eyes further south, roaming past the curve of her hip, her flat stomach, and down to those long, shapely legs. Strong legs that could wrap around a man’s neck. His eyes lingered on her painted toenails, peeping out from that pair of very high-heeled shoes, and then he drew his eyes back up to meet hers again.
The woman had a body on her. And a sharp tongue. He wasn’t used to that. The women he knew were usually softer, gentler. But there was nothing gentle about Olivia Matthews. She was hard. Fast. And made of ice. He was immediately intrigued.
‘Livvie, are you coming?’ The lilting voice of Fiona called from the doorway.
The femme fatale in front of him dropped her focus and turned to her friend.
‘Come on, Livvie. Will is dying to introduce you to everyone.’ Fiona sounded nervous.
Olivia—or Livvie as her silly friend insisted on calling her—looked back at him, her eyes hard. He smiled again, which seemed to irritate her more as she stepped closer. So close he could smell her. Cinnamon and something sweet. Peaches...
‘I haven’t finished with you.’
‘I shall be awaiting your return with shivering anticipation.’
She huffed again. A sound he found equal parts irritating and charming. Then she turned and left, her little friend pulling on her arm and whispering in her ear.
Edward let a laugh escape. If nothing else, she was fun. Even if she did make his shoulders pull a little tighter. He strode to the fireplace and let it warm him up. The woman was trying, but at least for once he was feeling something. His usual diet of blank nothingness was becoming a little tiresome. Perhaps this weekend wouldn’t be as bad as he’d initially thought. Perhaps it would allow him to feel a little before he headed back to the real world. Grey and dull and solid.
He held that thought up like a beacon, secretly hoping that the grey and dull didn’t take too long to return.
*
