Garrett had heard of such treatments. Something to do with strengthening the weaker eye. And the poor thing had worn the patch on the wrong eye for an entire year in hopes of seeing improvement.
“Can you see out of your left eye?”
She closed the right and stared straight ahead for a moment with her left. “It’s blurry by itself.” She opened the other eye again. “I ignore it. I look at most things with my right.”
She scrubbed one hand down her face and turned away. He’d made her uncomfortable again.
“Do you swim?”
Olivia was grateful for a different topic to discuss.
Yes, she swam. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting…?
She’d swam in her chemise dozens of times, at this very watering hole, in fact. Always with Louella looking on, too afraid to step into the water. And today, she wore the very chemise she’d swam in beneath her gown.
Had she been wrong to assume he’d wanted to kiss her? Uncertainty swept through her. And embarrassment.
“Swim?” she managed.
He was laughing at her again, in that way that somehow didn’t seem insulting. “In the water.”
She was a good swimmer, an excellent swimmer, in fact. And for some reason, her skin felt as though it was burning… as was something inside of her.
That heavy warm feeling he’d caused suddenly left her feeling sticky and hot. A swim sounded rather invigorating right now.
But surely, he wasn’t suggesting they swim… together?
Just as he’d lured her with the promise of their lovely picnic, the water, the freedom that came with paddling around in a cool pond, had her considering something she really ought not…
“I swim,” she offered cautiously. Perhaps he wasn’t suggesting they swim together. Perhaps the question was simply a general one, such as, did she paint? Or did she like to sing?
But he’d sat up and was removing his cravat. He’d already removed his jacket earlier, before they’d sat down to eat.
“Don’t tell me you don’t swim with your friends, Miss Redfield?”
She had only ever swum alone, with Louella sitting on the bank, but she was not about to tell him that.
While she eyed him jealously, a drop of perspiration trickled down the back of her neck.
She twisted her mouth into a grimace. They had decided to be friends. And he had not admitted to wanting to kiss her. She may have been all wrong about that.
As she sat contemplating her decision, Gabriel Fellowes, the Earl of Kingsley, silently removed all but his breeches and then dashed across to the sandy bank and disappeared with a splash.
Olivia untied her half-boots, removed her stockings and then burst to her feet. This day had been set aside for pleasure, and she might as well experience it to the fullest. The two of them were quite alone. What did she have to lose?
In less than thirty seconds, she’d stripped her gown over her head and was making her way to another section of the small cove. He mightn’t even see her if she avoided the bank he’d dove from. Shivering as she entered the cool water, she determined to keep quiet and duck low so that he wouldn’t even see her and—
“It drops off rather quickly there.”
She turned to see his black head emerge from the water, shining like some sort of seal or sea mammal. And she was most certainly providing an eyeful for him, dressed in nothing but her chemise. If she could take a few more steps, she could cover herself—
And down she went as the bottom fell away beneath her. Drat and tarnation, he’d warned her! Whereas the water had been cool near the shore, it might as well have been iced over in the deeper parts. She gasped and then choked, instincts causing her to kick and paddle her way back to the surface.
He probably thought she’d lied about knowing how to swim, seeing her graceless splashing and then coughing.
Firm hands grasped her waist.
“I’m fine,” she managed between coughs. Not only was she mortified to have made such a ninny of herself, but another set of shocking sensations beset her as his legs and arms and chest floated up against her from behind.
His bare arms wrapped around her, and the tops of hers rubbed against the slick skin of his chest and shoulders.
His skin felt cool to the touch, cold even, which made all the heated sensations swirling around inside of her even more confounding.
He wasn’t doing anything in order to stay afloat, so the water must be just shallow enough that he could stand and just deep enough that she could not.
If she were to push away from him and kick her legs, she could show him she did not need his assistance.
And yet…
She relaxed her limbs, tilted her head back and rested it upon his shoulder. She could not remember a time when she’d known such a sensation of safety and protection.
“I can swim, you know,” she admitted lazily, her feet floating up in front of her. But instead of releasing her, his hands guided her so that she floated almost fully on her back.
And now the side of her face rested just along his jaw.
It was the closest she’d ever been to a man, and the texture of his skin scratched hers, sending fluttering sensations loose in her chest.
“Just relax.” His voice rumbled by her ear.
More fluttering.
And then, both of them unmoving, time stood still. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead, a few birds called out to one another, and the two of them simply soaked up the moment of an odd and comforting connection.
“Gabriel,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me here today.”
Chapter 9
Good Intentions
Gabriel could not recall a single recent memory when he’d known such contentment and peace. With mud beneath his feet and the water cooling his skin, he watched her body rise and then settle along the top of the water. Her hair had escaped the loose knot she’d had it in and now floated out from her face, almost like rays of light from the sun.
The water had turned her shift transparent, and it plastered itself against her body, revealing pert, dusky nipples perfectly centered in the contours of feminine flesh. The water lapped across her abdomen, drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs, the texture of hair revealed by the wet fabric.
But his gaze didn’t linger there, drawn as he was to finely shaped knees, calves, and then tiny pink feet.
He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. Her gratitude pierced something inside of him. Instead of answering her, he dropped a kiss onto the side of her face.
He meant it to be short and sweet, but his lips lingered instead. Sliding his hands up from her back, he threaded his fingers through the silky wet strands of her hair. With the loss of his hand supporting her, her bottom and legs sunk below the water.
And then her legs were tangled in his and as she turned, the tips of her breasts grazed his naked chest. She squirmed at first, and by God, the force of the water pressed every tantalizing inch of her soft curves against him.
He’d honestly intended to remain platonic with this woman, but when she peered at him with eyes made up from a fantasy, framed by thick misty lashes, reflecting the same want and desire he felt…
All his good intentions dissolved.
Sensing her inexperience, he dipped his head and hesitantly sampled her cool wet lips with his own. Ah, such sweetness.
She tasted of the wine from earlier, and warmth, and sunshine and all that was woman. He turned his head, to savor her more fully, and at the same time, her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist.
Innocent temptation flared and a more sensual craving seized their embrace. He’d intended to refrain from kissing her.
He’d failed miserably.
Now, his conscience berated him for clasping at her buttocks, sliding her chemise up so he could knead the flesh of her thighs, pressing himself into her welcoming center.
Toppling any further control on his part, she clasped her legs tighter and lifted herself higher,
almost climbing him. Now it was her mouth that delved deeper as she explored behind his teeth with her tongue, humming a soft hungry sound.
Which made him grow harder if possible, despite the cool water.
But he could not. Dear God, he could not.
Reluctantly, he slid his hands up her back and turned his head to the side. She kissed his jaw, then, and the side of his throat, threatening to undo his renewed resolve. It took a moment for her to comprehend his withdrawal.
Gabriel stroked the back of her head and closed his eyes while she caught her breath.
“You did want to kiss me earlier.” Her faint words humbled him.
He exhaled. “Of course, I did.” And then a cloud drifted across the sky, immediately sending a chill through the air.
She shivered and moved to pull away. He wasn’t ready, though, and caught at her. She relaxed for a moment, and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms for warmth.
He needed to leave her alone in the future. Perhaps there was a reason gentlemen and women never aspired to platonic friendship, why protective parents required chaperones follow them around.
He released her arms and she leaned away, threw her head back and somersaulted backward in one smooth motion into the water.
Of course, she could swim.
Had he thought she required him to hold her above the water in order to keep her from drowning? Despite her assertions to the contrary, some part of him had believed just that.
He shook his head in hopes of shaking off the uncomfortable revelation.
Was he deluding himself that he had any right to assert himself into other aspects of her life as well?
Like a water nymph, she dove beneath the water and then emerged, hair flowing out behind her and then she would do it again. Occasionally, he got a glimpse of her feet and more of her legs than was entirely appropriate.
Which pretty much summed her up. He chuckled and then grew serious. The very parts of her that attracted him were the characteristics for which Society would push her away. Her naivety. Her spirit.
And hell, her own father considered her magnificent eyes to be the result of a curse.
He hated that the viscount and viscountess had shunned her. Their ridiculous disapproval and rejection would shape a part of her for as long as she lived.
Across the water, she’d swam to the edge and now waded in the shallow section, her chemise hiding far less than it revealed. The woman needed to be protected from herself, and without conscious thought, he surged forward to join her before she fully emerged. He would make certain no other individuals interrupted their privacy and be afforded the sight he’d likely imagine sometime later, while alone and… imaginative…
Likely she had no idea the view she provided… So utterly innocent of the ways of the world…
Perhaps that was why he’d felt the need to intrude upon her personal affairs, her choices.
Her only champion, her sister, had married and thusly left her feeling even more alone than she had before.
He’d promised Stanton he’d look after the mine. While in Misty Brooke, he added one more undertaking to his duties. If he could prevent Olivia from marrying Smith, at least until her sister’s return, he’d feel he’d done his duty. According to Stanton, the new marchioness loved her sister and intended to bring her into Society. She would disapprove of Luke Smith’s suit.
All Gabriel needed to do was convince Olivia to delay giving Smith an answer for the next few months.
Without compromising the girl, himself.
He glanced over at the lady standing beside him who might as well not be wearing anything at all. The second part of his task might prove far more difficult for him than the first.
Chapter 10
When a Gentleman Hires a Valet
Dear Louella.
Olivia wrote her sister’s name with a flourish. Her first inclination was to ask question after question. How is London? How do you like being married? Is Stanton treating you well? But she knew Louella would answer all of these questions in the next letter she sent home and so writing them would be redundant.
I miss you.
Well, that should go without saying, but she left it just the same. Because, oh, but it was the truth. She dipped her well used pen into the jar of ink but then allowed it to hover over the foolscap. Louella, being the youngest, had shared most of her troubles with Olivia.
Olivia, on the other hand, had kept many of her concerns hidden from her younger sister.
She’d protected Louella from them.
Which was why she hadn’t mentioned anything of Luke Smith before the wedding and now she hesitated in sharing details of her run-ins—encounters? Trysts? — with Gabriel.
Lord Kingsley.
A drop of ink fell off the tip of the pen, splashing the paper.
The Smith children are proving a considerable challenge and each day that Eliza and I spend taking care of them, I marvel that Mrs. Smith would have been solely in charge of their care.
She dipped the pen again. Louella would not approve of Mr. Smith’s suit of Olivia. Since she became engaged to Stanton, Louella had gotten it into her head that she could bring Olivia into Society so that she could experience a Season.
She had great hopes of Olivia landing a genteel husband in the process.
The idea, in theory, seemed tempting, but when contemplated seriously, Olivia experienced all of the doubts that had been well-founded before she’d attended the prewedding ball.
If only she could go to London and remain invisible. She’d visit as many museums, parks, and bookstores as one possibly could. She’d eat ices from the famous Gunter’s and spend an evening at Vauxhall Gardens tasting strawberries and drinking champagne.
If only she could do it outside of the watchful eyes of Society.
With a future duchess for a sister, that could never happen now. The thought of exposing herself to others, like those who’d been gossiping in the ladies’ retiring room at Ashton Acres, was enough to keep her in hiding.
Even some of the locals, folks who’d known her all of her life, still stared at her curiously.
But there were far fewer of them.
“Lord Kingsley is here to see you.” Olivia hadn’t heard Mary open the door and peek inside, but in no way could escape the inquisitiveness behind her gaze. “Would you like me to send him in?”
Olivia glanced around the small parlor and bit her lip. Having him sit with her in a parlor, just the two of them, was not something her mother or father would ever have approved of. That being said…
They resided in the big manor up the hill and she’d been sent away with only her maid for company. The rules of Society had become a nebulous, abstract set of guidelines… for other people to follow. If a tree fell, in the forest, and no one was there to hear… did it make any sound? She grimaced.
Her parents disapproved of her regardless.
“Please do.” She shrugged.
Mary raised her brows and then backed out of the room. A moment later, heavy footsteps approached, and then Lord Kingsley’s imposing figure appeared in the open doorway.
Gabriel.
Likely he appeared much differently in the country than when he was in London. Here to pay attention to mining operations, he tended to leave off his jacket and wore his sleeves folded back.
“Do you not keep a valet?” The question escaped before she thought to ask him to sit or say ‘hello’ even.
He grinned. “If I did, I imagine he’d be in disgrace.” He, too, eschewed proper etiquette and after a quick bow in her direction, approached and lowered himself into a chair conveniently placed facing her desk.
“Why don’t you?” She closed the cap on the ink and set her pen aside. Three days had passed since he’d returned her home, in a wrinkled and damp gown with her hair tumbling about her shoulders.
After seeing her return in such dishabille, it was a wonder Mary allowed him in the house at all.
Crossing one foot ove
r the other, Gabriel laughed. “I imagine I’ll have to once I settle down.”
“When do you intend to settle down?” He was the same age as Stanton, she believed. “It’s not as though you’re such a very young man.”
He laughed. “I imagine after I’ve married. I’ll have to hire a valet then, wouldn’t want to embarrass my wife after all.” He toggled his eyebrows teasingly. “And it’s not as though I’m as ancient as all that.”
Olivia caught his gaze but then quickly averted it again. The last time she’d seen him she’d kissed him… and more. She’d opened herself up to him as no lady ever would.
And then he leaned back and studied her through narrowed eyes. “You’ve been spending time at the Smith household again, I hear.”
He was relentless!
“I’ve made it a point to leave early in the afternoons, before he returns.” Not because Gabriel had encouraged her to avoid Mr. Smith but because she was growing less and less certain that her marrying the newly widowed fellow was a good idea. “Is that why you’ve come today?” As happy as she was to see him, she was also a little annoyed. “Because I don’t require a keeper.”
“Did we not establish that the two of us were friends? And do not friends visit and inquire as to one another’s wellbeing on occasion?” He tilted his head with a coaxing grin. “I’m doing well, Miss Redfield. Thank you for asking.”
Absurd! This man was absurd.
She couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.
“Very well, My Lord. I’m fine as well. How fares work up at the mine?” The minute she asked the question, the teasing light left his eyes and his smile faded into a shadow.
Despite herself, she stiffened. She’d been reassured over and over by Louella, Eliza, and even Eliza’s brother that the notion of a curse was nothing more than foolishness, and yet, a shiver ran down her spine at the look on Gabriel’s face.
“Why doesn’t Crawford halt production? It will do no good for him if something goes wrong.” Olivia was no stranger to the mine’s history. At times, as much as she hated the thought, she felt intimately connected to it.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 8
