She set her teacup down with only a little rattle and spoke to the petulant girl. “You needn’t live with them if you feel that strongly about it, Sarah, dear. Besides, I suspect they will want to take a holiday after the wedding, if only to avoid any scandal which might slip out.” She smiled sympathetically at her younger sister. “It will be all right, you know.”
Sarah’s chin trembled and she dashed her hands against her eyes. “It will never be all right again. Never.” Then she began to cry in earnest.
At once Olivia moved to the sofa beside Sarah, and wrapped her arms around the child.
“I ha … hate her,” Sarah sobbed into Olivia’s already damp bodice. “How could she do … do that with him?”
Over the girl’s head Olivia’s gaze connected with Neville’s and held. It was a curiously intimate moment, but not like before. This was an intimacy, not of the flesh, but of the mind. Or, more accurately, of the heart. They were united in the aid and comfort of a child, just as parents might be.
Olivia smoothed Sarah’s tousled hair, but her gaze remained locked with Neville’s. She’d so often thought his eyes turbulent and moody. But today, though dark, they were clear. If she stared long enough, she fancied she might see all the way down, to the secrets in his soul.
That she wanted to know those secrets was unsettling. But she was slowly coming to the realization that for all her doubts about him, there might be depths to him worth plumbing. Did she dare to take that chance?
It was almost painful to maintain such a personal connection to him, and nearly as painful to break it. But there was Sarah to deal with, and the child had worked herself into a terrible state.
“Sarah, Sarah. Hush now,” Olivia crooned, stroking the child’s back and kissing the crown of her head. “You make too much of this. I know you must have been shocked to come across them together …”
She sent a guilty glance at Neville, then away. “But when you are older …” Again she trailed off, unable to explain to Sarah what she hardly understood herself. Certainly no one could have explained about the attraction between men and women well enough for her to truly understand. It was something a woman had to experience.
Then Neville leaned forward and with one large, square-tipped finger traced a tear track down Sarah’s cheek. “I remember how terrified I was when my father died, Sarah. I was a grown man, and yet losing him was like … like the ground being pulled from beneath my feet. First my fellow soldiers had died, my friends in the war. Then my father and, soon after, my mother too. And just as I had begun to recognize how very much I loved my parents, my brother slipped away as well.”
He caught another of her tears. “I know how afraid you are now. So many changes in your life. But you have a family that loves you. You must never forget that, nor take it for granted.” He smiled down at her. “Your father will always be with you, you know. It might help you to consider what he would want you to do.”
Sarah lay very still in her arms, and Olivia could tell that the child was listening to his low, soothing words. “Is that what you do?”
His face sobered, and he was slow to answer. “My parents loved Woodford Court. It was the center of their world. So, yes, I suppose that is why I work so hard to improve it. But I would give it all away,” he continued more quietly. “Everything I own to have my family back again.”
The girl shifted. “You have that boy. Your nephew. You still have him.”
Again Neville smiled, and as he did, he raised his gaze to Olivia’s. “Yes. I have Adrian, and he is more special to me than I ever guessed a child could be. You’ve become special to me also.”
Olivia pressed her lips together, for his careful tenderness had raised a lump in her throat. He’d bared a little bit of his soul, she realized. And though his words were meant to comfort Sarah, his eyes spoke volumes to her.
She could love this man.
That understanding struck Olivia with a strange sense of certainty. Hard and scarred and arrogant as he was, she could easily love Neville Hawke, if only for the vulnerability he now revealed to her heartbroken little sister.
Sarah sniffed. “So you think I shouldn’t be angry with Mama.” She turned in Olivia’s arms so that she faced Neville. “But if you would just marry Livvie, then … then I could live here with the two of you.”
Olivia tore her gaze from Neville’s, embarrassed by the child’s bluntness. “I don’t think that’s what Lord Hawke meant, Sarah. You know your father would want you to stay with Mother. She loves you very much.”
Sarah wiped one fist across her eyes. “I know. But … but she’s going to marry that awful Lord Holdsworth now.”
“Lord Holdsworth? What has this to do with Lord Holdsworth—” Olivia broke off as she finally understood. She pulled a little back from Sarah. “It was not Lord Holdsworth you discovered with Mother.”
Sarah blinked and looked over at her. “It wasn’t?”
“It wasn’t?” Neville echoed.
Olivia felt heated color creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She did not like to reveal anything unflattering about her mother, but it was plain Neville knew all the sordid details—or at least as much as Sarah did.
“It was not Lord Holdsworth in her chamber. In fact, he and all the others have already departed Byrde Manor. No doubt gone off to spread the gossip,’ she added bitterly. “I probably should not have run them off so fast, but rather, forced them to witness the marriage.”
Sarah tugged at Olivia’s collar. “Who, Livvie? Who was it?”
Olivia gave her a crooked half-smile. “It was Mr. St. Clare.”
The girl sat up straighter. “Mr. St. Clare?”
“Yes. Justin St. Clare. And since it appears he is to become your stepfather within the week, it behooves you to put yourself on better terms with him.”
Sarah digested that for a moment. “Mr. St. Clare.” She glanced at Neville who raised one brow at her. In return the girl gave a sheepish grin. “Oh well. I suppose he’s not such a bad sort.” She dried her damp eyes on her sleeve. “Not like that awful Archie person.”
“Justin St. Clare,” Neville mused as the tension in the room began to ease. He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have credited the man with—” He broke off when Sarah and Olivia both looked at him.
“Credited him with what?” Sarah inquired.
He cleared his throat. “Ah … I wouldn’t have credited him with capturing the heart of a woman like Augusta,” he said, then smiled. Though he sat back on the sofa, the three of them were still very close together, and when he stretched out his arm along the back of the seat, his hand lay just a finger’s width from Olivia’s shoulder.
“I understand St. Clare keeps a sailboat at his estate on the Isle of Wight,” he continued. “You should pester him to take you sailing, Sarah.”
The child perked up. “A sailboat? Huh. Maybe I will, for I’ve never been sailing. Anyway, that’s the least he can do, given all the trouble he has caused.” Then she yawned and snuggled back into Olivia’s embrace. “I’m glad you came after me, Livvie. I’m sorry I ran away and gave you such a fright. But I’m glad you came to find me.”
Over her head Neville’s eyes caught with Olivia’s and held. I’m glad you came too, those deep-set eyes seemed to say. And she was glad also.
For a long moment they sat that way, close upon the sofa while the rain beat a lulling tattoo upon the windowpanes. Sarah yawned again and Olivia felt the child’s body begin to relax. It had been a long, exhausting day and they still must return home.
As if he sensed her thoughts, Neville said, “You cannot go home in this storm, Olivia.”
She averted her gaze. “We cannot stay the night here.” Not when I am so fiercely drawn to you.
“Maisie is nearby. And also the housekeeper. Besides, you have Sarah. You’re perfectly safe at Woodford—as safe as you wish to be.”
There was no mistaking the meaning in that last, and it should have set her mind firmly against staying. But Olivia
’s mind was not working quite as it ought. It was still overwhelmed by the new truth of her feelings for Neville, and how terrifyingly deep they ran.
In her arms Sarah sighed and snuggled into a more comfortable position. Olivia smoothed a curl from the child’s brow. Already she had dozed off, while the rain outside fell harder, as if in fierce determination to keep her there.
Perhaps she ought to stay.
When she did not object, Neville stood. “I’ll alert the housekeeper to prepare a room and send a rider to Byrde Manor to let them know you’re both here.”
By the time he returned, Sarah was snoring peacefully, soundly sleeping in Olivia’s arms. “I’ll carry her,” he said, and lifted the child with no effort. Then he led the way up one flight of wide wooden stairs, and down a dim, carpeted hallway to a circular room faced with rough stone Walls. It was obviously part of the old tower.
Someone had already been there to light a lamp, and a small fire burned in the wall hearth. Neville laid Sarah gently upon the turned-down bed and removed the child’s shoes. “I thought it better for Sarah that you share a room.”
Olivia nodded agreement. But even with Sarah there, standing in the small bedchamber with Neville beside her set every one of Olivia’s senses on alert. He was so tall and virile. Though casually dressed in the comfort of his own home, he remained every inch the imposing lord of the manor. Strong, yet able to be gentle, and more compelling than any man she’d ever known.
How could she not fall in love with him?
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can I send anything up for you? Something to eat or drink?”
“No. Thank you.”
Silence stretched out between them. She trailed her hand along the edge of the bed. “I’ll just tuck Sarah in.”
He nodded, then cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I would like to have a word with you after that. Outside.” He gestured toward the door.
At once Olivia’s awareness of him increased tenfold. To be alone with him in any way was dangerous, and more so now than ever. That a long, stormy night stretched before them only exacerbated the situation. She’d succumbed to him in far less likely circumstances, and that was when she hadn’t even liked him. Heaven knew what she would do now that she’d discovered these new feelings for him.
But she did know. She knew exactly what would happen between them.
“I … I don’t think that is wise,” she said in little more than a whisper.
One side of his mouth curved up in a wry grin and he spread his arms wide. “I promise not to touch you, Olivia. Not to come within five feet of you, if that is your wish.”
But it’s not my wish. Quite the opposite.
Ruthlessly she squelched that thought. “Perhaps you ought to just say whatever it is you have to say here. Now.”
He was slow to answer. He glanced first at the bed where Sarah lay, lost to sleep. The amber light from the lamp melded with the flickering glow from the fireplace to limn his face with gold. Olivia traced his profile with her eyes, marveling at the strong planes—the bold brow and straight nose, the curved lips and hooded eyes. He was beautiful in the harsh manner that was purely male. Beautiful and dangerous, and irresistible. Whatever he proposed, she knew she would be powerless to deny him.
She should be stronger than that. The morals of a lifetime should provide her the ability to turn away from him. But she knew better. A kiss. An embrace. The wonderful, terrifying tumult of their last encounter. And on top of everything, she knew now that she loved him.
Then he turned and fixed those moody blue eyes on her, and the breath caught in her throat.
“I think, Olivia, that your sister’s suggestion is a wise one.”
When she blinked, not understanding, he went on. “There is no sensible reason why we should not wed. I have held back on approaching your brother again, for despite your poor image of me, it is not my wish to harm you or humiliate you. But I hope you will reconsider your earlier decision. You have already admitted that you mean to remain in Scotland, and we both know the attraction between us is strong. I’ve seen that notebook you keep, and I know you have turned down any number of acceptable suitors.”
He took a step toward her his eyes intent. “We are a well-matched pair, Livvie. Neither of us is suited to town life. You will be happy here. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Just say you will marry me.”
Olivia could hardly breathe. Marry him! That was hardly what she’d expected to hear after she’d turned him down so emphatically. She was prepared to be seduced. She should not be, but she was. In truth, she wanted to be seduced. But a proposal, as welcome as it was, nonetheless left her speechless. She’d been fighting the idea so many days now that it seemed astounding to actually consider agreeing to it.
He closed the space between them so that she had to tilt her head up to meet his mesmerizing gaze. He overwhelmed her with his nearness. But he still did not touch her. “Is the idea really so repugnant to you?” he asked when she did not respond. He reached out a hand and with one finger stroked slowly down her arm, from shoulder to elbow, and down along her bare forearm. “There is an attraction between us. I feel it. You feel it. You’re feeling it right now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The word was a pitiful, strangled confession.
“Then marry me and we can explore the depths of that attraction. What you felt before was only the beginning, Livvie. Only the very beginning—”
Olivia silenced him with a kiss. To his amazement and her own, she caught the front of his waistcoat in her fists, then pressed up on her tiptoes, and proceeded to silence his words with a long-overdue kiss.
Chapter 25
Neville exulted at Olivia’s sudden capitulation. She was his!
He wrapped his arms around her. More than anything he wanted to crush her to him. But he was careful not to hurt her. She was his, the refrain echoed in his head as he kissed her back. With her kiss she gave him her answer. She would marry him, and he would keep her forever.
But first he would make love to her. He would make love to her and bind her to him through the power of her passionate nature.
So he accepted the offer of her seeking lips and straining body. She was sweet and soft, yet overbrimming with passion. And all of it for him. In return he gave her all the passion he held so tenuously in check. He feasted on her mouth, kissing her hard, forcing her lips apart, and delving deep with his tongue. Questing, claiming. With rhythmic thrusts he plundered her mouth while pressing her hips against his raging arousal.
At last he would find relief from this aching need she raised in him.
“Do you know how much I want you?” he whispered between kisses that bordered on the desperate. “Do you know how hard the wait has been?”
But the wait was over. Without giving her time to answer, he swung her up into his arms, as he’d done with her sister. His purpose now, however, could not be more different. He was through the door and half the way up the old tower stairs before she reacted.
“Wait. Neville …”
He paused at the first landing and feasted again on her warm, trembling lips until her caution was banished by desire. Then up the final flight of stairs he swept, up to his private chambers.
There was no lamp burning in this room, however, no fire crackling upon the hearth. For this was not a room he frequented during the night. He might sleep by day in this place, but never by night.
But then, it was not slumber he aspired to this night.
He set Olivia on the bed. Though loath to let her go, he wanted a light to see her by. With three sharp flicks of the flint the tinder caught and he lit a single candle. Then he looked down at her and felt the sharpest, most vivid pang of longing he’d ever known. In a lifetime of longing for things he could not have—saving his friends’ lives, a little more time with his family, and peace, just one night of peace—in all that time he’d never known such a pure and pervasive longing as he knew now.
And he�
�d never been so close to getting what he longed for.
He stripped off his waistcoat, watching as Olivia took in his every move. His shirt was next, and he saw her beautiful eyes widen.
“Take off your bodice, Olivia. I want to watch you disrobe for me.”
A little gasp escaped her lips, but she complied. God bless her, she complied.
He tugged off his boots and she removed her shoes. Then he stripped off his breeches and stood before her clad only in his undergarments, and she froze. Her hands stilled on her lap, knotted in her skirts as she sat awkwardly upon his bed, staring up at him.
“Neville,” she began, ducking her head. “I … I don’t know how …”
“I’ll help you,” he answered, and swiftly he untied the tapes and tugged her skirt from beneath her hips—her skirt, and her single petticoat. He tossed them aside, then turned back to her. Clad only in her chemise, with arms and legs bare to his view, she was the most perfect woman he’d ever known. And she was his now. She always would be.
“We’ll marry within the week,” he murmured reassuringly as he laid her back, then braced himself on his arms over her. The bed creaked as he knelt on the mattress. His muscles trembled from the effort it took not to fall upon her like a rutting stallion. “I’ll speak to your brother and mother tomorrow.”
“They will be much relieved,” she replied.
He lowered his head and lightly kissed her. When the kiss was done she looked up at him trustingly. Ah, but you should not trust me, sweet Olivia. That’s what he should tell her. Only he was so near to having what he wanted from her. What he needed. He should send her back to the safety of her family before she found out what sort of man she’d married.
But he could not. Instead he let his weight come to rest part of the way on her.
She let out a little shocked gasp at the intimacy of it, but she did not object. As he shifted his weight over her, using his body to stroke the entire length of her, their gazes remained locked. She was innocent of any man’s touch but his, he knew. And yet she brought to that innocence a sensuality more potent than that of the most accomplished courtesan. She wanted him and also feared what he meant to do to her. Yet she did not flinch away.
The Matchmaker Page 29
