by Stacy Reid
Her breath hitched on a sob. She could not fail him in this, nor could she allow her lout of a brother to compromise the vow that she had promised to her husband.
“Livvie, are you well?” her father demanded.
She glanced up to see him leaning on his walking stick. Her heart lurched. “I thought you no longer had to use a stick for support?”
A tired smile creased his lips. “Only when I exhaust myself. I assure you, there is nothing to worry about, but if you do not mind terribly I am off to take a nap. Your mother and sister wore me out.”
She hurried over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Of course not.” Should she tell him? And what if you do and the shock makes him even more ill? Her stomach cramped at the notion.
“Your mother is planning a jaunt in to the village shops. Will you join her?”
“I must return to Grangeville Park. I will make my excuses. Have a good rest, Father.”
Good Lord, what was she do to?
Chapter Seventeen
A few minutes after making her excuses, Livvie was headed home. She leaned her head back wearily against the squabs, her fingers gripping the padded seat in the carriage, her mind churning furiously. She would simply have to defend her own honor, discreetly. And when she had soundly trashed William, he would not breathe a word of his shame to anyone, but he would certainly acknowledge that she was not a woman to trifle with.
She swallowed heavily and wondered if her nerves would be completely shattered before the ordeal was over. The carriage sped home, but nothing she did could turn her mind from her determination to face William by herself. His size had been so frightening, the press of his lips against hers and the intent in his touch had been revolting. The mere memory made her feel ill to her stomach. The carriage rolled through the forecourt of the estate, and the footman aided her descent. She walked briskly through the door held open by the butler.
“Olivia?”
She faltered when she spied Tobias walking down the hall toward the library with Lord Westfall. After saying something to the marquess she could not hear, Tobias walked toward her. Westfall went ahead to the library.
“I thought you and the marquess were to be fishing?”
He arched a brow at the noticeable tremble in her voice.
“We retired earlier than planned to complete discussion on the school and hospital we are building.” Dark green eyes searched her face. “I understand from Mrs. Potter you visited your parents? Is the Viscount well? You seem a bit rattled.”
His concern had tears prickling behind her lids. She so desperately wanted to rush into his arms and be comforted, but knew he would hate such a display of excessive passion. “Yes, Tobias,” she said, walking toward the parlor. She breathed a soft sigh of relief as he followed her, a mild frown marring his handsome features.
They entered, and at the snick of the door, she spun around. And mortified herself by bursting into tears. “Oh! My nerves must be more unsettled than I realized, forgive me.”
Instead of drawing her to him, he leaned on the door and folded his arms, a cold and cynical look shuttering his features. The hurt in her heart grew worse, and she valiantly tried to control the sobs.
“You are clearly upset,” he said, “gather your composure, dry your tears, and try to speak sensibly.”
Anger surged through her, and she welcomed the distraction from the memory of William’s cruel touch. “You are being unfeeling!”
“I have no time for theatrics.” His eyes took on a darker shade of green. “I am not given to indulging women in manipulative tears. You know how I feel on the matter, Olivia.”
She was instantly flustered. “Not all tears are tools for manipulation, Tobias,” she cried softly. “And I am not just some woman! I am your wife.”
Impatience flashed in his eyes. “What has happened?”
“I…I…had a dreadful encounter with my stepbrother.” Her heart pounded, and she was suddenly afraid of how much to reveal. And with despair, she realized it was because she was petrified he would truly say or do nothing. If she were to reveal the truth and Tobias remained unconcerned, she would be shattered, for she was more than halfway in love with her husband. If he showed he did not care, she would not be able to bear it.
Unable to voice her fears and anxiety or her mounting love, she marched over to him. She stretched up to him and grabbed his hair to pull his lips down to hers. Then she kissed him hard and passionately. With a muffled groan of surprise, he unfolded his arms and tugged her even closer to him. The kiss was hot, hungry, and demanding and as she shivered in his arms, she realized how badly she wanted Tobias’s touch and taste to wipe away the vile threats of William.
Tobias gripped her hips and marched her backward toward the chaise lounge. They halted when the back of her shin hit the chaise, and his hand drifted around to cup her buttock into his large palm. She cried out softly when he tilted her and ground his hardness between her thighs.
He pulled his lips from hers, breathing raggedly. “You tempt me, countess, but Westfall awaits me with pressing business that must be sorted before he returns to Town this evening.”
Her heart broke in denial. She needed this. “I…I…needed your kiss,” she whispered half under her breath, feeling exposed and terribly vulnerable.
An unidentifiable emotion shifted in his eyes. “What has happened, Olivia?”
She remained muted, her heart beating a furious rhythm.
“Well?” he clipped, and she winced.
“Kiss me, Tobias, love me,” she murmured pressing hot, desperate kisses along his neck. She tugged frantically at his cravat, and as the silken cloth slid through her fingers, she parted his shirt and bit into the soft of his neck. He gripped her hands and clasped them gently. Dipping his head, he kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and she curled into him, reveling in the tenderness he displayed.
“I must attend to business, I cannot dally.”
She lifted her head from his chest and nodded with words trapped in her throat.
After pressing a kiss to her lips, he walked toward the door. He gripped the knob, before glancing back with a frown. “I do not like you being upset and in tears.”
She tried to smile but it wobbled. “I am considerably eased,” she answered truthfully. “Nor am I crying any longer.”
“Good, I trust you will inform me after my meetings what has occurred?”
A throb of tension pulsed behind her temples. Perhaps. “I… Yes, though I may do so with tears.”
His gaze searched her face intently. “Do you wish me to remain? I will inform Westfall—”
She hurried forward. “No, attend your business meeting. I shall retire to my chambers until we meet for dinner. The argument with William was quite unsettling, but I am fully capable of dealing with it and that had been my intention. Seeing you, I…I unraveled a bit but I am back to sorts.”
“Are you certain, wife?”
“I am,” she answered firmly.
With a small nod, he departed. Livvie was even more resolved now. She would settle the matter without being a bother to her husband.
…
Fifteen minutes after he’d left his wife in the parlor, Tobias frowned as he spied her riding away astride on Arius. It seemed whatever had distressed her had not abated if she would go for a long ride so soon. Should he have stayed and prodded her to reveal whatever had brought her to tears?
Tears.
He had always despised the weapon women used with such ruthlessness. Tears had never inspired anything in him but disgust. When he had seen the glisten in Olivia’s eyes, his heart had jerked, then a cold resolve had filled him to destroy who ever had upset her. That had shocked him, the very idea that his countess had the power to torment him with tears, as his mother had done with his father. Their days since setting off to Scotland had been filled with their mutual sensual awareness. It had been delightful and he had been at peace. He had even come to appreciate
and enjoy her cutting tongue more.
Last night, when he had sat down to write, his wife had completely colored the lenses of how he saw his heroine, and he had started to craft the perfect lady for Wrotham. When he wrote, it was an escape, a need, a pleasure, another life he could immerse himself in. The world of secrets, lies, and passion, where everything was as he made it, and regret, pain, fear held no sway. Yet last night, as if he had been controlled by another, Tobias had written his hero falling in love with the mysterious Lady O, a suspected traitor to the crown, and he had infused such intensity of emotions in his characters it had shaken him deeply.
Did that mean he was falling in love with his wife? The way he watched for her smile to brighten his day, the insatiable desire he had to kiss and make love to her, the way he anticipated her doing something reckless, not in dread…but in fascination. Was that love? Tobias was unsure, he only knew he had never endured the emotions she was stirring in his heart.
Why had she been crying?
It unnerved him to realize she had not been swooning and descending into great hysteria, but had simply demanded his kisses to soothe whatever emotions had been rioting inside. He was caught off guard by the pleasure rushing through him at that realization.
As Olivia nudged her horse into a canter, he felt a vague sense of unease. Where was she really off to?
He pushed from the winged back chair and strolled to the open windows for a closer look. Acting on instinct, he grabbed the telescope from off his desk, lengthened it, and brought it to his eyes.
She had one of his foils belted at her waist. Good God. What was she about? The fact that she chose to travel on horse and not in a carriage suggested she was not going far. Olivia nudged her horse into a gallop and he lost sight of her. Lowering the telescopic lens, Tobias considered her actions deeply. She’d said she had an argument with her brother, whom she encountered visiting her parents. An argument so severe it had brought her to tears, and she now returned with a weapon, one with which she was most proficient. Knowledge bloomed like a late flower in springtime. Without a doubt, she was heading back to her father’s estate to settle whatever wrong her stepbrother had done to her.
Good God. The reckless hoyden!
Was she not aware of the magnitude of scandal that she could bring down on their family? They had barely escaped the past few days with Francie’s reputation intact, and even then, he was just waiting for the first wave of rumors to start before using the full force of his power to squash all tattle.
He would tan Olivia’s backside when he caught up with her.
“What is it?” Westfall finally asked, no doubt annoyed by his delay.
“I must leave. I will travel to Town tomorrow and conclude our business if need be. I understand you cannot stay any longer. But my wife needs me.”
The marquess gave him a cynical glance. “Is she well?”
“She…she had been crying,” he said gruffly. “And I should have known she was not the type of lady to be rattled by simple matters.”
Westfall’s lips curved, but he said nothing.
Tobias stormed from the room, his mind shifting through the possibilities. What would she really do with his foil? She was proficient, for they had sparred together to her delight in Scotland a few mornings. But surely she would not think to use a weapon on someone. Unable to walk sedately, he broke into a run for the stables, guilt and frustration worming its way through him.
His wife had needed him, and he had not probed deeply enough. He appreciated then, the control she had on her tempers. Because she had not been wailing and swooning as how females of his acquaintance had behaved before, he’d assumed whatever had upset her had been trifle.
Damnation.
Chapter Eighteen
Livvie returned to Riverhill Manor determined that today would be the last William would ever behave so disgustingly toward her. She was well pleased to learn her father was still abed resting, and her mother and sister had not yet returned from their jaunt in the village.
“Has my brother departed, Mrs. Billings?” Livvie enquired of the housekeeper.
“No, my lady. He is in the drawing room taking his evening tea. Dinner will be served at six. Shall I let the cook set a place for you?”
“No, thank you, I shall not be long.” Livvie handed over her coat and untied her bonnet. “See to it that we are not disturbed.”
“Yes, my lady.”
First she went into her father’s study and eyed the few foils he had arranged in a glass case. She searched for the keys in his desk and unlocked the case, selecting a fine foil. Gripping both foils in a death grip, she marched to the drawing room and entered without announcing her presence. She was very deliberate in her action as she closed the door, ensuring the latch turned, ensconcing them inside.
William’s head jerked around. “Livvie,” he breathed, a rare smile of pleasure and genuine affection lighting his eyes. “You have returned.” He lowered his tea and the sandwich he had been consuming and pushed aside some papers he had been reading.
He stood, his eyes devouring her. The wretched man was truly pleased to see her.
“I knew you would come to your senses.” A lascivious smile tipped his lips and bile rose in her throat. “Leave with me tonight for Town. I have reopened the town house in Mayfair, and we will be alone for the night save for a few servants.”
Livvie said nothing when the wretched libertine sauntered to the sideboard where decanters and glasses were arranged. He poured amber liquid into two glasses. He turned to her and hesitated when he finally spied the foils in her hands.
“What do we have here?” he murmured, raising an enquiring brow.
She held the foils even more firmly in her hands. “I will not—”
“We will need to be discreet,” he said, as if she had not spoken.
“William—”
“I will admit, your husband is reputed to be ruthless when crossed, so we must be careful. I’d prefer if we started our affair after you’ve whelped his heir, but it cannot be helped. I want you too much,” he said thickly, a bulge rising at the front of his breeches.
She held the foils in her hands out toward him. When his attention riveted on the blades, she strolled to the center of the room.
“What in God’s name are—” He gasped, the glasses dropping from his hands to the carpet, as she pressed the end of the pointed foil to his throat. William stared at her in shocked disbelief. “Livvie—”
“Do not breathe my name, you despicable cad,” she said with a calmness that she distantly admired. Her heart was a war drum in her ears, her stomach felt hollow, but her hand was steady, and that was all that mattered. “You have assaulted, insulted, and tried to dishonor me. You have no honor and I am here to defend mine. You promised, William, that you would have me before the month is out, and I promise you…I will kill you if you think to besmirch me and take what belongs only to my husband.”
His eyes widened in shock before fury darkened his blue orbs. “Do you believe this will stand?” he growled.
“Most assuredly. Do not think I have any fear about running you through.” Her stomach pitched and uncertainty tried to claim her, but she pushed it aside and pressed the blade firmer against his throat. “I have bruises on my arms! I am your sister…if not by blood, by law. I have known you for eleven years and have only thought of you as a brother. You have attacked me twice now, trying to steal kisses and touches that do not belong to you, and I can clearly see you have no intention of stopping your despicable behavior.”
“I—”
“You thought I would be so afraid of my husband’s reaction that I would not inform him of your licentious character. You are right, but nor will I allow you to incite fear in my heart.”
She stepped back and threw the other foil to him, which he deftly caught. He looked at it blankly.
“While it is appealing to run you through and flee, I will give you a chance to defend your honor, William. I challenge you
to a duel.”
He smiled a faint, derisive smile. “You are not a man, Livvie. And that has always been your problem. You do not know your place. I am going to teach you today where you belong, which is spread beneath me,” he growled, and before she could blink, he lunged at her.
She parried his thrust with nimble speed and skill, and deliberately nicked his chin, letting blood.
He swore viciously.
“That was for the first time you kissed me.”
Anger tautened his cheekbones, and he rushed at her without form. He was a brute of a man and as their foils came together, she felt the strength in him. She twisted away and lunged, slicing through his peach waistcoat and shirt, creating a thin line of blood across his stomach. He cried out in pain and stumbled back.
“Oh, do be quiet, it is nothing but a scratch.”
“You’ve scarred me,” he muttered faintly.
“That is for the terrible manner in which you assaulted me earlier. My honor has been satisfied. Do you swear, William, to never accost me again?” she demanded, pointing the blade at his heart.
“You bitch!”
They stared at each other in furious silence, before he nodded tersely. She lowered her sword. With speed and shocking strength, he lashed out and slapped her across the face. Livvie stumbled, a faint ringing sound buzzing in her head. A hand gripped her wrist and squeezed with such strength she feared her bones would be crushed. With a sharp cry, she dropped the sword, unprepared for the way he tumbled her to the sofa.
“I would have treated you with gentleness before, I would have, Livvie. I wanted you for years. I even asked Father for your hand in marriage and he stupidly told me we were brother and sister when we share no blood.”
A sharp rip sounded as he tore the neckline of her riding habit. He kissed her and she shredded his lips with her teeth. His yowl of pain filled her with savage satisfaction. He reared up above her and backhanded her. A coppery taste entered her mouth. She jerked both her knees up, swift and sure. He groaned and rolled off her, and she dived to the floor and grabbed her foil.
