by Amanda Quick
“That is quite enough, Mr. Draycott.” Abandoning any further effort to deal with the situation in a ladylike manner, Olympia rammed her elbow into his midsection.
Draycott groaned but he did not release her. He was panting in her ear. She could smell onions on his breath. Her stomach churned.
“Olympia, my darling, you are a woman of mature years, not a green girl fresh out of the schoolroom. You have been buried alive here in Upper Tudway all of your life. You have never had a chance to experience the joys of passion. It is time you lived.”
“I believe I am going to be ill all over your boots, Mr. Draycott.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are no doubt a bit nervous because you are unfamiliar with the pleasures of physical desire. Have no fear, I shall teach you everything you need to know.”
“Let me go, Mr. Draycott.” Olympia dropped the last book and clawed at his hands.
“You are a lovely woman who has never known the taste of l’amour. Surely you do not wish to deny yourself the ultimate sensual experience.”
“Mr. Draycott, if you do not let go of me at once, I shall scream.”
“There is no one home, my dear.” Draycott wrestled her over to the couch. “Your nephews are gone.”
“I am certain that Mrs. Bird is somewhere about.”
“Your housekeeper is out in the gardens.” Draycott started to nuzzle her neck. “Have no fear, my sweet, we are quite alone.”
“Mr. Draycott. You must get hold of yourself, sir. You do not know what you are doing.”
“Call me Reggie, my dear.”
Olympia made a wild grab for the silver statue of the Trojan horse that stood on her desk. She missed.
But to her amazement Draycott suddenly yelped in alarm and released her.
“Bloody hell,” Draycott gasped.
Free at last, but off balance, Olympia stumbled and nearly fell. She caught hold of the desk to steady herself. Behind her she heard Draycott cry out once more.
“Who the devil are you?” he began in an outraged voice.
There was a sickening sound of flesh slamming into flesh and then there was a sudden thud.
Cap dangling over one ear, Olympia spun around. She pushed several tendrils of hair out of her eyes and stared, astounded, at Draycott. He was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
With a strange sense of inevitability, Olympia’s gaze went to the pair of black boots that were planted on the carpet beside Draycott. Slowly she raised her eyes.
She found herself staring at the face of a man who could have walked straight out of a legend involving buried treasure and mysterious islands set in uncharted seas. From his long, wind-whipped black hair and velvet eye patch to the dagger he wore strapped to his thigh, he was an awe-inspiring sight.
He was one of the most powerful looking men Olympia had ever seen. Tall, broad-shouldered, and lean, he radiated a supple sense of strength and masculine grace. His features had been carved with a bold, fearless hand by a sculptor who scorned subtlety and refinement.
“Are you, by any chance, Miss Olympia Wingfield?” the man asked calmly, just as if having an unconscious person at his feet were an everyday occurrence.
“Yes.” Olympia realized her voice was a mere squeak of sound. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, I am. And your name, sir?”
“Chillhurst.”
“Oh.” She gazed at him blankly. She had never heard the name. “How do you do, Mr. Chillhurst.”
His riding coat and breeches fitted him well enough but even she, who had lived in the country all her life, recognized them as being sadly out of style. A man of modest means, obviously. Apparently he could not even afford a neckcloth because he certainly was not wearing one. The collar of his shirt was open. There was something a little uncivilized, even primitive, about the sight of his bare throat. Olympia realized she could actually see a small portion of his chest. There appeared to be dark, curling hair on it.
The man looked dangerous standing here in her library, Olympia realized. Dangerous and utterly fascinating.
A small shiver went down her spine, a shiver that was not at all akin to the unpleasant sensation that had gripped her when Draycott had taken hold of her ankle. This shiver was one of excitement.
“I don’t believe I know anyone named Chillhurst,” Olympia managed to say smoothly.
“Your uncle, Artemis Wingfield, sent me.”
“Uncle Artemis?” Relief rushed through her. “You met him somewhere on his travels? Is he well?”
“Quite well, Miss Wingfield. I encountered him on the coast of France.”
“This is wonderful.” Olympia gave him a delighted smile. “I cannot wait to hear all the news. Uncle Artemis always has such interesting adventures. How I envy him. You must dine with us this evening, Mr. Chillhurst, and tell us everything.”
“Are you all right, Miss Wingfield?”
“I beg your pardon?” Olympia stared at him in confusion. “Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be all right? My health is excellent. Always has been. Thank you for inquiring, Mr. Chillhurst.”
The black brow over Chillhurst’s good eye rose. “I was referring to your recent experience at the hands of this person on the floor.”
“Oh, I see.” Olympia abruptly recalled Draycott’s presence. “Good heavens, I almost forgot about him.” She saw Draycott’s eyes flicker and wondered what to do next. She was not particularly skilled at handling difficult social situations. Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida had never concerned themselves with teaching her such niceties.
“This is Mr. Draycott,” Olympia said. “He’s a neighbor of ours. Known him for years.”
“Has he always made a habit of assaulting ladies in their own homes?” Chillhurst said dryly.
“What? Oh, no.” Olympia flushed. “At least, I do not believe so. He appears to have fainted. Do you think I should call my housekeeper and have her fetch the vinaigrette?”
“Do not concern yourself. He’ll awaken soon enough.”
“Will he? I have not had much experience with the effects of pugilism. My nephews are great admirers of the sport, however.” Olympia gave him an inquiring look. “You appear to be very well versed in it. Have you studied at one of the London academies?”
“No.”
“I thought perhaps you had. Well, never mind.” She looked down at Draycott again. “He was certainly making a nuisance of himself. I do hope he has learned his lesson. I must say, if he continues to act in such a manner in the future I will no longer allow him to make use of my library.”
Chillhurst looked at her as if she were slightly mad. “Miss Wingfield, allow me to point out that he should not be permitted to enter your home again under any circumstances. Furthermore, a woman of your years ought to know better than to receive gentlemen callers alone in her library.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I am five-and-twenty, sir. I have little to fear from gentlemen callers. In any event, I am a woman of the world and I am not easily overset by unusual or extraordinary circumstances.”
“Is that a fact, Miss Wingfield?”
“Certainly. I expect poor Mr. Draycott was simply overcome with the sort of intellectual passion that is frequently engendered by a keen interest in ancient legends. All that business about lost treasures and such has a very inflammatory effect on the senses in some people.”
Chillhurst stared at her. “Does it have an inflammatory effect on your senses, Miss Wingfield?”
“Yes, indeed.” Olympia broke off, aware that Draycott was stirring. “Look, he’s opening his eyes. Do you suppose he’ll have a headache because of that dreadful blow you gave him?”
“With any luck, yes,” Chillhurst muttered.
“Bloody hell.” Draycott mumbled. “What happened?” He gazed blearily up at Chillhurst for a moment. Then his eyes widened in astonishment. “Who the devil are you, sir?”
Chillhurst looked down at him. “A friend of the family.”
“What the hell
do you mean by attacking me?” Draycott demanded. He gingerly touched his jaw. “I’ll have the magistrate on you for this, by God.”
“You will do no such thing, Mr. Draycott,” Olympia said crisply. “Your behavior was quite atrocious, as you are no doubt well aware. I’m sure you will want to take your leave immediately.”
“He will apologize to you first, Miss Wingfield,” Chillhurst said softly.
Olympia glanced at him in surprise. “Will he?”
“Yes.”
“Damnation. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Draycott said in an aggrieved tone. “I was merely trying to assist Miss Wingfield down the ladder. And this is the thanks I get.”
Chillhurst reached down, took hold of Draycott’s neckcloth, and hauled the groggy man to his feet. “You will apologize now,” he said deliberately. “And then you will leave.”
Draycott blinked several times. His eyes met Chillhurst’s unblinking gaze and slid uneasily away. “Yes, of course. All a mistake. Terribly sorry.”
Chillhurst released him without warning. Draycott stumbled and stepped hurriedly back out of reach. He turned to Olympia with an expression of acute discomfort.
“I regret any misunderstanding that may have occurred between us, Miss Wingfield,” Draycott said stiffly. “Didn’t mean to give offense.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Olympia could not help but notice that Draycott appeared very small and quite harmless standing next to Mr. Chillhurst. It was difficult to recall that for a few minutes there she had actually been somewhat alarmed by his behavior. “I believe it would be best if we both were to forget this matter entirely. Let us pretend it never happened.”
Draycott cast a sidelong glance at Chillhurst. “As you wish.” He straightened his coat and adjusted his neckcloth. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be off. Don’t bother summoning your housekeeper. I can see myself out.”
Silence descended on the library as Draycott walked hurriedly out the door. When he was gone, Olympia looked at Chillhurst. He was studying her, in turn, with an unreadable expression. Neither said a word until they heard the outer door close in the hall behind Draycott.
Olympia smiled. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Mr. Chillhurst. It was quite gallant of you. I’ve never been rescued before. A most unusual experience.”
Chillhurst inclined his head with mocking civility. “It was nothing, Miss Wingfield. I’m glad I could be of service.”
“You certainly were, although I doubt that Mr. Draycott would have done anything more than try to steal a kiss.”
“You don’t think so?”
Olympia frowned at the skepticism in Chillhurst’s eyes. “He’s really not a bad sort. I’ve known him since I came here to live in Upper Tudway. But I must admit that he’s been acting rather oddly ever since his wife died six months ago.” She paused. “He has recently developed a great interest in old legends, which happens to be my own field of interest.”
“Somehow that does not surprise me.”
“What? That I am interested in them?”
“No, that Draycott developed a sudden interest in them.” Chillhurst’s expression was grim. “He obviously did so in order to seduce you, Miss Wingfield.”
Olympia was appalled. “Good heavens, surely you do not believe that what happened here this afternoon was intentional.”
“I suspect it was very much a premeditated action, Miss Wingfield.”
“I see.” Olympia considered that briefly. “I had not thought of that possibility.”
“Apparently not. You would be wise not to see him alone again.”
Olympia brushed that aside. “Well, it’s not really all that important. It’s over. And I am completely forgetting my manners. I expect you’d like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you? You’ve probably had a very long journey. I shall summon my housekeeper.”
The sound of the outer door being flung open with a crash interrupted Olympia before she could ring for Mrs. Bird. A loud barking filled the hall. Dog claws scrabbled on the wooden floor outside the library. Boots pounded. Youthful voices rose in a booming chorus.
“Aunt Olympia? Aunt Olympia, where are you?”
“We’re home, Aunt Olympia.”
Olympia looked at Chillhurst. “I believe my nephews have returned from their fishing trip. They’ll be anxious to meet you. They’re very fond of Uncle Artemis and I’m sure they’ll want to hear everything you have to tell us about your visit with him. You might also mention your skills in pugilism. My nephews will have a great many questions about the sport.”
At that moment a massive furry dog of indeterminate breed burst into the library. He barked once, very loudly at Chillhurst and then galloped toward Olympia. He was soaking wet and his massive paws left muddy tracks on the library carpet.
“Oh, dear, Minotaur is off his leash again.” Olympia braced herself. “Down, Minotaur. Down, I say. That’s a good dog.”
Minotaur bounded forward without pause, his tongue lolling out of the side of his grinning mouth.
Olympia hurriedly backed away from him. “Ethan? Hugh? Please call your dog.”
“Here, Minotaur,” Ethan yelled from the hall. “Here, boy.”
“Come back here, Minotaur,” Hugh yelled.
Minotaur paid no attention. He was bent on greeting Olympia and there was no stopping him. He was a friendly monster of a dog and Olympia had actually grown fond of him since her nephews had found him abandoned and brought him home. Unfortunately the beast had absolutely no manners.
The huge dog halted in front of her and leaped up on his hind legs. Olympia held out a hand to fend him off but she knew it was a useless effort.
“Stay, boy. Stay,” Olympia said without much hope. “Please sit. Please.”
Minotaur yelped, sensing victory. His dirty paws began their inevitable descent toward the front of Olympia’s clean gown.
“That’s quite enough,” Chillhurst said. “I have never liked having unschooled dogs about the place.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Olympia saw him move. He took a single, gliding stride toward Minotaur, grabbed the animal’s leather collar, and tugged him firmly downward until all four wet paws were once more on the floor.
“Stay,” Chillhurst said to the dog. “Sit.”
Minotaur looked up at him with an expression of canine astonishment. For a moment dog and man eyed each other. Then, to Olympia’s everlasting surprise, Minotaur obediently sat back on his haunches.
“That was quite amazing,” Olympia said. “How on earth did you manage that, Mr. Chillhurst? Minotaur never obeys commands.”
“He simply needs a firm hand.”
“Aunt Olympia? Are you in the library?” Ethan came barrelling around the door, his eight-year-old face alight with excitement. His sandy brown hair was plastered to his head. His clothes were as wet and muddy as Minotaur’s fur. “There’s a strange carriage in the drive. It’s ever so big and it looks like it’s packed with trunks. Has Uncle Artemis come to visit again?”
“No.” Olympia frowned at his dripping attire and started to ask why he had gone swimming in his clothes.
Before she could speak, Ethan’s twin, Hugh, charged into the room. He was as covered in mud as his brother. In addition, his shirt was torn.
“I say, Aunt Olympia, have we got visitors?” Hugh asked eagerly. His blue eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.
Both boys skidded to a halt as they caught sight of Chillhurst. They stared at him while water and mud dripped onto the carpet at their feet.
“Who are you?” Hugh asked bluntly.
“Are you from London?” Ethan asked eagerly. “What have you got packed away in your carriage?”
“What happened to your eye?” Hugh demanded.
“Hugh, Ethan, have you both forgotten your manners?” Olympia gave each boy a gently admonishing look. “That is no way to greet a guest. Please run along upstairs and change your clothes. You both look as though you fell into the stream.”
“Ethan pushed
me in, so I pushed him in,” Hugh explained briefly. “And then Minotaur jumped into the water after us.”
Ethan was immediately outraged. “I did not push you into the water.”
“Yes, you did,” Hugh said.
“No, I did not.”
“Yes, you did.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Olympia said quickly. “Go upstairs and make yourselves presentable. When you come back down I shall introduce you properly to Mr. Chillhurst.”
“Ah, Aunt Olympia,” Ethan said in the obnoxious whining tone he had recently perfected. “Don’t be such a killjoy. First tell us who this cove is.”
Olympia wondered where Ethan had picked up the cant. “I shall explain everything later. It is really quite exciting. But you are both very muddy and you really must go upstairs first. You know how annoyed Mrs. Bird gets when she finds mud on the carpet.”
“The devil with Mrs. Bird,” Hugh said.
“Hugh,” Olympia gasped.
“Well, she’s always complaining about something, Aunt Olympia. You know that.” He looked at Chillhurst. “Are you a pirate?”
Chillhurst did not reply. Most likely because there was yet another crashing noise from the hall. Two spaniels bounded into the room. They barked joyously to announce their arrival and dashed about wildly. Then they rushed across the library to see what the matter was with Minotaur, who was still sitting politely at Chillhurst’s feet.
“Aunt Olympia? What’s going on? There’s a strange carriage in the drive. Who’s here?” Robert, two years older than the twins, appeared in the doorway. His hair was darker than his brothers’ but his eyes were the same vivid shade of blue. He was not soaking wet but his boots were caked in mud and there was a great deal of dirt on his face and hands.
He had a large kite tucked under one arm. The long, dirty tail dragged on the floor behind him. Three small fish dangled from a line he was holding in his other hand. He stopped short when he saw Chillhurst. His eyes widened.
“Hello there,” Robert said. “I say, who are you, sir? Is that your carriage outside?”
Chillhurst ignored the bouncing spaniels and gazed meditatively at the three expectant youngsters. “I’m Chillhurst,” he said finally. “Your uncle sent me.”
