Set title

by O’Donnell, Laurel

  “Haven’t you heard anything I just told you?”

  “Yes. I heard that you haven’t lost control since you left the Navy despite feeling the urge to lash out, which I would like to point out is quite normal. We all have that urge but especially those of us who were in the military. I would also state that anger is a common response to any sort of trauma. It gives us the energy to continue on, and I would venture to say it saved your life.”

  “My life is no longer being threatened,” Oliver argued.

  “True. But I would suggest your mind is well aware that anger saved your life. It won’t be easy to set it aside. Have you thought of replacing the anger with a different emotion?”

  “Is that what you did?” Oliver studied his friend, noting the softening of his expression.

  “Quite by accident. Or perhaps it was fate.” Hawke shook his head. “I’m still not certain but grateful for it all the same. The first step in changing how you feel is to forgive yourself for what happened in Ethiopia. You’ve had years to question decisions you were forced to make in seconds. Those young men you fought probably didn’t deserve to die, but neither do you. It’s not your fault they were there. At times, we can only play with the hand we’re dealt.”

  Hawke’s advice rang over and over in Oliver’s mind as he walked back home. Could he forgive himself for all he’d done?

  Happiness. It felt like a foreign word on his tongue, unfamiliar and exotic.

  An image of Julia came to mind. If it weren’t for her presence in his life, he would’ve doubted happiness was even possible. He’d feared his darkness would only smother her light. But if he could find a way to forgive himself and allow happiness into his life, what might happen?

  Did he dare risk finding out?

  CHAPTER TEN

  “One thing, at least, is certain; it would come much cheaper to the country if these budding burglars and pickpockets were caught up, and caged away from the community at large, before their natures became too thoroughly pickled in the brine of rascality.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Julia braced herself as she walked up the steps to Oliver’s home late that afternoon, aware of the risk she took. An unchaperoned visit was completely inappropriate, but that didn’t stop her from doing it. She’d left her maid and carriage a short distance away, hoping to draw less notice.

  After much thought, she’d realized something was bothering Oliver. Some deep part of him was unhappy, as though he fought an internal battle, especially when in a crowded place such as last night at the ball. It was impossible for her to stand by and not try to help. Not after years of watching her father for signs of unease and doing all she could to aid him. She couldn’t stand to see others unhappy, especially those for whom she cared.

  Though she realized how unlikely it was that Oliver would appreciate her interference, Julia knocked on his front door.

  From her experience with her father and brother, men didn’t want help—as though accepting it would weaken them. But once she overcame their resistance, they often appreciated her efforts.

  She handed the footman her card then waited in the foyer. From the footman’s startled expression, Oliver rarely had visitors, much less female ones.

  His home was quite lovely, much larger than she’d imagined. Its stately elegance was welcoming with dark wood and warm, calming browns and golds, at odds with the man who lived here.

  The footman returned to the foyer. “His lordship will see you now.”

  Julia followed the servant toward the rear of the house where he opened a door off the hallway. After being announced, she stepped through the portal only to stop short. The massive room was amazing. Books lined tall shelves from floor to ceiling. Cozy chairs with gleaming side tables were placed here and there as though to invite one to pick a book and take a seat.

  The far end of the room near the tall windows held a massive desk. And Oliver. He rose but remained behind his desk, his expression unreadable.

  “That will be all, Tubbs.”

  The footman departed with a bow, leaving the door ajar behind him.

  “Your library is amazing.” Nerves simmered inside Julia as she walked toward Oliver, now filled with serious doubts about the wisdom of her visit.

  “Did your father find something of interest?” he asked with a frown, not acknowledging her comment. Dark shadows marked his eyes and the brackets around his mouth were pronounced.

  All of that made her more determined to help. Whether or not he was willing to admit it, he needed her.

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  His brow rose. “Then to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” While his words were pleasant enough, his tone was far from it.

  “I wanted to speak with you privately.” She bit her bottom lip as words failed her. Between his lack of welcome and the coolness in his eyes, she was tempted to depart.

  “Oh?” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.

  She eyed the wide expanse of his desk. If she sat on the other side, she wouldn’t be able to see the subtle changes in his expression. He hid his emotions so well. Gauging his reaction was a requirement if she was going to attempt to aid him. Plus sitting near him might have the advantage of taking him off guard.

  Making up her mind, she came around the side, waving for him to take a seat as she perched on the corner of his desk like she so often did in her father’s library.

  But Oliver was nothing like her father. Oliver was a strong, capable man, and she remembered very well how it felt to be in his arms. His scent—that mix of sandalwood and the forest—had awareness filling her from head to toe.

  He appeared nonplussed before he sank into his chair as though uncertain how to respond to her proximity.

  Good. Perhaps that would lower the reserve he held so tight.

  She folded her gloved hands in her lap and swallowed back her worry. While her behavior was bold, that didn’t make her certain as to the outcome of her visit. “I realize we do not know each other well, but it’s come to my notice that you seem unhappy. I wondered if you might like to speak about it. That often helps alleviate problems. Or perhaps there’s something else I can do to aid your unease?”

  Without thinking about how forward she was acting, she leaned over to place her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes, hoping he’d let her in, trying to decipher at least one of his secrets.

  ~*~

  Oliver stared into her eyes, amazed at the beam of sunlight resting on the edge of his desk. Her gown was a pale turquoise that reminded him of the sea at dawn and deepened the azure of her eyes. Her hat was more a small bouquet of silk flowers and ribbons than an actual hat and held various shades of that same color. The heat of her hand, despite her glove, penetrated his very bones and spread slowly through his body.

  He wasn’t prepared to speak with her. Not yet. He hadn’t decided how to proceed with her. Hawke’s comments that morning made him realize he needed time to think things over, yet here she was, and he had no idea what to do about it.

  About her.

  About her offer.

  As her warmth traveled up his arm, seeping into every cell, it loosened the grip of restraint he’d held tight since Tubbs had announced her presence. He’d told himself not to touch her. To suggest she leave as quickly as possible. But how could he when she made him feel like this?

  Alive.

  He blinked, attempting to break the spell she’d cast over him. He needed her to leave. Quickly. Before he gathered her into his arms. “I don’t know to what you’re referring.”

  “Oliver.” She spoke his name in a hushed, reverent tone, compelling him to respond, to share his deepest demons.

  But he knew that path led to madness. If he told her what bothered him, why he acted as he did, she’d leave, and he’d never see her again. While that would allow him to remove her from his life easily, he wasn’t ready for that.

  A part of him might believe chasing her away would be wise,
but he refused to lose the chance to hold onto her, to bask in her light. Nor could he tell her the truth.

  Where did that leave him?

  “I doubt you’re inclined to confide in me,” she continued, her hand gripping his arm more tightly, sending another wave of heat along his length.

  Her lilac scent filled his senses, dragging his thoughts exactly where he didn’t want them to go.

  “But if there is something I can do, anything at all, to ease your unhappiness, please know I would be delighted to do so.”

  One idea came immediately to mind. It would ease his unhappiness perhaps only temporarily but was still so tempting. He told himself her constant reaching out to touch him was only a habit of hers, a mannerism she used with all the people she knew.

  But those light caresses she employed each time she was near him were breaking down his defenses brick by brick. The wall was more difficult to rebuild than he’d imagined. He feared with a few more moments of her hand on him, his walls would tumble down, leaving only rubble at her feet with no barrier between them.

  Drawing a deep breath, he moved his arm to the side of his chair and out of her reach, hoping to stop the tidal wave of need threatening to engulf him. The need wasn’t only for her physically, though his desire was stronger than anything he’d ever experienced. It was for being a part of her world, for a chance to share her light.

  But he couldn’t risk that until he knew for certain he wouldn’t smother her brightness.

  “I can only imagine what you might have gone through while serving in the Royal Navy. Was it difficult?”

  “Difficult?” He tried to focus on her words rather than her close presence. “At times.”

  Those blue eyes looked deep into his soul with trust and kindness, neither of which he deserved. She reached out again and trailed her fingers along his hand, both soothing him and stirring him in equal measures.

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like.” Her words and quiet voice invited him to share.

  He was almost tempted to tell her, something he’d never done except with Hawke this morning. But no. Those stories needed to remain in the dark where they belonged.

  At that moment, with her hand on him, he could think of only one way to distract her. To reverse their positions in more than just the physical sense.

  Slowly, he rose, taking her hand in his. Her eyes widened as he drew her to her feet. He stood as close as possible and lay his hand alongside her cheek. The alarm that shone in her eyes shifted, sharpening.

  “Nor should you,” he whispered as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  “Will you tell me?”

  “No.” He captured her lips with his, devouring her as unwanted memories crowded his mind. The taste of her shoved them back into the shadows once more.

  Her lips parted beneath his as though eager to deepen the kiss. The feel of her arms around his neck surprised him. Then her gloved fingers tangled in the hair that brushed his collar. Damn if it didn’t feel good, nearly as good as she tasted.

  He slid his hands along her back, finally settling on her waist for a long moment. But that wasn’t enough. He moved to tease the swell of her breast.

  A tiny gasp escaped her. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, he gently touched her breast, annoyed by the barriers of fabric and corset that separated them.

  “Oh,” she said on a breath, leaning back ever so slightly in the circle of his arms, her eyes closed.

  The elegant line of her neck drew him, and he kissed its length. He ran his finger along the bare skin above the top of her gown, amazed at the feel of her softness. Her sigh made him want to please her more. The swell of her breast beckoned, and he dipped his fingers lower, seeking the tip. The feel of it caused him to pulse with need even as she moaned.

  “Julia,” he muttered, unable to stop himself. He hoped she understood this interlude was up to her. One word and he’d release her, but he only heard her quickening breath.

  He freed her breast from its confines, his eyes greedy to see her bared before him. The rosy peak beckoned, and he bent to lick it. Once. Twice. Then suckled her fully.

  Her gasp was his reward. She was so responsive that he wanted to give her more, to take more.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered breathlessly. “That— That is amazing.”

  “Yes.” He agreed with her. She was amazing, not just her creamy white breast. He took her mouth again, welcoming the passion that filled him. Using his knee, he nudged apart her legs to stand between them, loving the feel of her against him.

  She lifted onto her toes and returned his kiss passionately, fueling his desire. In another moment, he wouldn’t be thinking at all. That held far too much risk.

  He eased back, breathless, but the sight of her pink-tipped breast teased him. With a groan, he kissed it once more then tucked it back into place, hidden from view.

  “This is not wise,” he managed, despite the passion fogging his brain.

  “What’s not wise?” she asked as she leaned forward to press kisses along his jaw then in the sensitive area beneath his ear.

  Shivers chased down his spine and the fog deepened. He frowned, aware he was losing control. Yet when she continued to trail her lips along his neck, he couldn’t resist. He placed his hands along her face and kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers, mimicking what he truly wanted to do. What was it about this woman that made him desire her so?

  When he drew back to look at her, her eyes fluttered closed. Her long lashes shielded her eyes from view until at last she looked up at him. The passion simmering in their depths made him clench his jaw. She was so responsive yet so innocent. Of that, he had no doubt.

  The thought was like a splash of cold water over him, bringing him to his senses. Or nearly so.

  “Julia, we must stop.” He kissed those rosy lips once more, telling himself that was the last one.

  “Yes, we certainly should,” she agreed then kissed him again, holding him tight.

  “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “No,” she murmured. “A young lady visiting a man alone is not to be done.”

  “Especially when that man desires her.”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You do?”

  “So very much.”

  “Oh.” She blinked up at him. “I confess I feel the same.”

  Her honesty shot through him, only increasing his passion for her. But she deserved more than he could offer. Though speaking with Hawke that morning had helped, he had much to work through before he considered allowing Julia into his world. “You should go.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should. But I wish you’d tell me how I can help you.”

  “You already have.” He could offer her that much. Her presence in his life was partly what had prompted him to reach out to Hawke. Spending time with her eased the unrest deep inside him. He didn’t understand it, nor did he deserve it. Not when that feeling of peace came with so many complications.

  But he couldn’t forget that she was a young lady who expected to marry. That was out of the question, of that he had no doubt.

  “Please. Go.” He gathered his resolve and took a deliberate step away from her.

  Before I lose what little will I have to send you away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “There are many who, looking down on the ‘cad’ from their pinnacle of high respectability, are ten times worse than he is. Take the shopkeeper thief for instance. He is by far a greater villain than the half-starved wretch who snatches a leg of mutton from a butcher’s hook...”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Oliver cursed under his breath as he perused the bustling street near Mr. Porter’s Import-Export Shop the next day. The lad he’d hired had yet to provide a report and the deadline of three days had passed. Though tempted to let it go, he’d decided against doing so. The boy had accepted a position and therefore needed to keep his word. Oliver assumed Victor had no father, so Oliver would take it upon himself
to reinforce the lesson that a man was only as good as his word. Something told him that Victor was redeemable.

  With a sigh, Oliver admitted he’d also chosen to venture here today because he’d grown weary of wondering what to do about Julia. Surely thinking of something else for a time would bring forth a solution to that particular quandary.

  But Oliver still didn’t appreciate having to come to this part of the city to find Victor. The day was humid, the odor atrocious, and the congestion of people, carriages, and carts as disconcerting as it had been on his previous visit. While the mud had dried up considerably compared to last time, the filth remained. It just didn’t stick quite as badly to his boots.

  He doubted he’d be able to locate the lad but had to try. Chances were Victor would remain in this general area, at least within a street or two. And it seemed likely he’d be out and about when it was crowded—more opportunities, assuming he continued in his occupation as a thief. Oliver didn’t fault him for that as he probably worked for someone else who wouldn’t take kindly to Victor quitting.

  Oliver walked up the street for a short distance but didn’t spot him. Then again, many of the young boys looked alike in their dirty, brown attire. With soft caps pulled low, it was difficult to see their faces unless they looked up.

  Releasing a sigh of reluctance, Oliver tuned into his instincts, the inner voice that had guided him so well through his years in the Navy. He hesitated to do so as, in his mind, it was connected to the rage he tried so hard to control. Yet he refused to waste an entire day looking for the lad.

  Victor would know the streets of his neighborhood well along with those who roamed it. Rather than searching for him, a better strategy might be to wait for him to find Oliver.

  He decided on a spot not far from Mr. Porter’s shop that provided a good view of the people walking past. It was amazing how the children blended in, as though used to being invisible.

  As time passed, he studied the boys striding by, wondering if he’d recognize the lad. Then he saw a boy with a bit of a swagger walking toward him. Though he had his head down and an over-sized cap low over his brow, Oliver was nearly certain that it was Victor. He hesitated only a moment before reaching out to grab the back of the boy’s jacket.