by Sara Bennett
“Of course she does,” Nic agreed, remaining where he was.
Mrs. Monteith looked as if she wished she could order them both out, but she was too polite, and after hovering in the doorway a moment, she gave up on Nic. Theodore murmured something close to her ear, and with a hunted glance at Olivia, she accompanied him through the doorway. Nic could hear Theodore’s complaints fading into the distance.
The room fell silent, and at last Nic was exactly where he wanted to be. Alone with her.
Chapter 6
The parlor was very quiet, apart from the ticking of the clock, and Olivia was beginning to think she wasn’t strong enough yet to be alone in a room with a man like Nic. His magnetism, his presence, shook her to the core. But she wasn’t a coward, and she forced herself to look up.
He was watching her with a smile hovering around his mouth, his dark eyes intent. His long body was folded into the chair, graceful without the conscious pretentiousness of Theodore. Nic Lacey was charismatic without even trying.
“You were disgraceful,” she said reprovingly.
“I meant to be. I wanted to save you from a fate worse than death—marriage to Theodore Garsed.”
“You…what?”
“He informed me while we were waiting outside the door that he intended to marry you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the other day?”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers across her brow, as though her head was aching. “Because it was none of your business. And for your information I have no intention of marrying Mr. Garsed, no matter what my mother hopes and believes.”
Nic stood up and crossed to the chaise longue and sat down beside her. She felt the size and warmth of his body like a shock; her flesh was actually tingling with the promise of contact.
“Olivia?” he said, and when she didn’t answer he slipped a finger under her chin, tilting her face toward his, forcing her toward him.
She dropped her dark lashes lower, hiding her thoughts from him.
Nic spoke softly. “He’s not the man for you; don’t let him convince you he is.”
She bit her lip. What was he trying to do? Save her from making a matrimonial mistake? How ironic that he could see that Theodore was completely wrong for her and yet could not see that he was completely right.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers warm and tender. “I can fight a duel with him. Drive him off for good. Would you like that?”
Olivia’s head was filled with the shocking image of Nic standing over Theodore’s lifeless body, the gun smoking in his hand. “No, I don’t like that! You’d hurt him.”
“He might hurt me.”
“I doubt it. At least, not according to your reputation.” She took a breath, gathering her courage, and looked directly into his dark eyes. “Nic, are you really offering me advice on who I should take as my husband?”
He was very close to her; she could feel his warm breath on her lips. If she’d thought her recent illness might protect her from wanting to kiss him, she was mistaken. In fact her status as a convalescent seemed to have made her even more receptive to his seductive charms, she thought, as a warm rush of desire overcame her and she had to concentrate to hear his reply above the pounding in her ears.
“I’ve seen far more of the world than you, Olivia, and this man would make you extremely miserable, believe me.”
She lifted her hand and placed it lightly on his shoulder. “So…you don’t want me to marry Theodore? Is that what you’re saying?”
His face grew serious. “I don’t want you to marry Theodore.”
She smoothed his lapel with her fingers as she thought about what she was going to say next. The moment seemed so intimate, she was loath to break it. “Nic, there is another way to stop the wedding.”
He knew what she was going to say. She could see his dark eyes fill with the knowledge. His smile was regretful, as if he was turning down a second helping of his beloved jam roly-poly. “Olivia, Olivia,” he murmured. “If you think you’re unhappy now you have no idea how unhappy I would make you.”
“But if you don’t want Theodore to have me—”
He groaned softly. “I don’t want anyone to have you. Only me.”
“Then marry me, and then you can have me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“I do know!”
He kissed her, blindly, tasting her lips, and then he kissed her again, deeper this time, delving inside her mouth, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You’re killing me,” he said, coming up for breath. “God, I want you. But if I took you…the consequences for you, for both of us…”
“Surely that’s my decision to make.” She was growing a little desperate in the face of his determination to reject her. “You’re a rake! What self-respecting rake would refuse such an offer?”
“But you want more than my body inside yours,” he said bluntly. “Don’t you? You want my honor. You want a marriage of hearts and minds. You want what I cannot give.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He stood up, leaving her cold and alone on the chaise longue. “Good-bye, Olivia.”
Olivia gazed up at his hard, implacable expression. She could weep and beg, she could shout and sulk, but none of that would work with a man like Nic. So instead she smiled her serene smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I’m glad you came to call, Nic.”
He hesitated, taken by surprise, and then he laughed and bowed. “My pleasure, Olivia,” he said, a world of suggestion in his voice.
“Olivia!”
Mrs. Monteith had returned to the parlor unheard, and now she looked as if she didn’t know whether to shriek or faint. Nic gave Olivia a brief, mischievous look, and then he was gone.
“Olivia, how could you allow that man to speak to you in that way? Don’t you know what he is? Your reputation—”
“You didn’t pay much attention to my reputation when Mr. Garsed kissed me after dinner when you invited him for Christmas.”
“That was different.”
“Why was it different?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Olivia. You know why. Mr. Garsed is a gentleman whose intentions toward you are proper—he wants to marry you. Lord Lacey is a—a rake, and his intentions toward you can only be a source of disgust and concern to me and your father. Any respectable person would feel the same. He intends to lead you astray, Olivia. He must never set foot inside this house again.”
The two women glared at each other, both determined not to agree, and it was only when Mr. Monteith cleared his throat behind them that they became aware of his presence.
“What on earth is going on?” he demanded irritably. “This shouting can be heard all over the house. My dear? Olivia?”
Olivia’s father rarely interfered in his wife’s arrangements. He spent his time in his study or else in London, dealing with business. In fact, Olivia often thought that he’d become distant and withdrawn from family life since her sister died, as if now that she was gone, he no longer had an interest.
“Lord Lacey has just paid a call on Olivia,” her mother explained, her mouth a grim line. “They were alone in the parlor for several moments, and when I returned from farewelling Mr. Garsed, he was leaning toward her in a very intimate manner.”
“Good God. Lacey? But he is the man who—”
“Exactly!” said his wife, bursting with triumph.
“Olivia,” Mr. Monteith said, in his heavy, measured way, “you should never be alone in the company of a man like Lacey.”
“He’s our neighbor, Father, surely it would be unkind to cut our neighbor?”
“I don’t mind if you nod to him in passing, but from what your mother has said it was more than that. You were alone with him in the parlor for several moments.”
Olivia had a strange urge to burst out laughing. Several moments was only long enough for Nic to kiss her, and certainly not enough time for him to do all the things she wished he would. In the end all sh
e could manage was, “Lord Lacey would never hurt me.”
But her father wasn’t listening. “You may well think him charming, but there’s another side to him. There have been incidents in the past, behavior that the Lacey family have tried very hard to have hushed up. Some of the things I’ve heard…”
“What have you heard, Father?” she asked curiously.
“No, Olivia, I won’t soil your ears with such tales. My job is to protect you, and that I will do to the best of my ability. Let me just say that he’s not a man to be trusted with an innocent young girl.”
Now was the moment for Olivia to promise her unwavering obedience; but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “I will be twenty-one in a few months’ time, Father. I am not an innocent young girl. I am a grown woman and I know my own mind.”
They were staring at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads, and both of them with horns.
“Olivia!” hissed her mother, wide-eyed with shock.
Her father looked even graver than usual. “You may think yourself all-knowing when it comes to the world outside Bassingthorpe, Olivia, but I assure you, you are far from it. Lacey is not the man for you. He would make you dreadfully unhappy. He would take you from us. Your mother wouldn’t be able to bear losing another child.”
“Sarah died, Father. She was ill and she died. I have no intention of such a thing happening to me, but I can’t know it won’t. I can only promise to do my best to live a long life, and I certainly have no plans to get lost.”
“Olivia!” her mother gasped, white-faced. “This isn’t a subject for levity.”
“Mama, I promise you I am being very serious. Besides, Sarah herself always told me that I should insist on the best and only the best, and scorn to take second best. I am only trying to follow her—”
“Stop it.” Her father had had enough. “I don’t want a Lacey…I don’t want him in this house again,” he said, hardly raising his voice, and yet his tone stopped Olivia midsentence. “Is that clear?”
“Father…”
“Is that clear, Olivia?”
It was useless to argue. They would not listen and they would not see. They had made up their minds that Nic was the villain and the only way to save her was to hand her over to the hero, in this case Theodore Garsed.
“Yes,” Olivia said dully, “it is very clear, Father.”
Her father was pleased with her, now that she’d given up the fight to be independent. He drew her into a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head. “You have been ill, my dear. That has made you a little testy, perhaps. When you are better you will realize I am right. We know what is best for you, and you must follow our advice, not Sarah’s. Theodore Garsed is a good man. Your mother is very keen on him.”
Then she should marry him, Olivia thought mutinously. She was glad when they decided she’d had enough excitement for one day, and left her to rest on the chaise longue.
Alone and beaten into submission.
Or so they thought.
But Olivia had no intention of giving up. She’d sworn to the other members of the Husband Hunters Club that Nic Lacey was her chosen husband, and nothing had changed. In fact, after today, when he’d told her he wanted to save her from Theodore Garsed, she was more certain than ever that Nic was the man, the only man, for her.
And she was more determined than ever to have him.
The church bell was ringing as Theodore took the path by the village pond and into the woods that bordered Nic Lacey’s land. Ahead of him, Nic was riding slowly, evidently deep in thought. Theodore was not sure yet what he was going to say to the other man, but he knew he must say something.
He was still reeling from the realization that His Lordship was a rival for Olivia’s affections. The way Lacey had ogled her! How had this happened, and right under Theodore’s nose? Well, he had to put a stop to it. Lacey’s reputation was of the worst, and if Theodore was officially engaged to her, he’d have ordered Lacey from the house. As it was he’d been insulted and routed, and forced to leave Olivia alone with that rake.
Theodore ducked under an overhanging branch just in time. After he’d rearranged his hat, he peered ahead through the shadowy woods and saw that Lacey was still there. Mrs. Monteith had been in a terrible state, but he’d sworn to her she could rely on him to do everything in his power to save her daughter.
“I know how you feel about a duel, my dear madam, but believe me, if necessary I will face Lacey at dawn and finish him once and for all.”
Brave words, and he was certain he’d impressed Mrs. Monteith with his fervor, but in reality he knew he was at a disadvantage. There were rumors that Nic Lacey had shot a man in scandalous circumstances in Paris, and there had been other encounters in the time since. Theodore wasn’t much of a shot, and he wasn’t very courageous, either. He couldn’t really see himself turning up at dawn and taking turns to try and put a bullet in his opponent. Such barbaric behavior was repellent to a gentle soul like Theodore—he was a poet at heart, not a soldier. Now, if it was his brother, Alphonse, standing against Lacey, things would be very different!
Ahead of him there was a cry. He looked up and saw Nic Lacey’s horse rearing up on its hind legs. Something, a bird perhaps, had startled it. Lacey, taken by surprise, clung on briefly, but the next moment he was thrown and landed heavily on the ground.
Theodore didn’t move, staring at the scene before him, certain that in another moment Lacey would get up. But as the seconds ticked by, Lacey remained unmoving, while his horse wandered a few paces away and began to crop the grass.
I should go and see if he’s badly hurt, Theodore thought. I should go for help.
But like Nic Lacey, Theodore didn’t move.
His mind was racing.
If Nic Lacey was seriously injured, if he was—God forbid!—dead, it would be a tragedy, of course it would be, and yet there was another side to the coin. With Lacey out of the way, Theodore’s difficulties would be over. Olivia would be safe and everything would go back to being comfortable, and Theodore need do nothing courageous at all.
No duels, no messy arguments, no fisticuffs.
But could he really be such a coward? No, he told himself firmly, not a coward. He was simply using his reasoning and his intelligence to extract himself and Olivia from a potentially tricky situation. If Lacey had an accident on his way home, it had nothing to do with Theodore. If he hadn’t just happened to be here, completely by coincidence, he would never have known.
Decision made, he turned his mount around and rode back the way he’d come, leaving Nic Lacey alone to his fate.
Chapter 7
Olivia was glad to be alone. After yesterday’s excitement she had been exhausted and eager to go to bed, but this morning she was almost herself again. Her mother had agreed she could sit in the garden, as long as she wore her warmest shawl and tucked a rug about her feet. It was better than nothing.
She reached into her sleeve and took out the note Nic had sent with his flowers. Olivia had read it several times already, but it didn’t hurt to read it again. Not that it was in any way improper—he wished her a speedy recovery—she simply liked to see his heavy scrawl and the way he signed his name: “Lacey.”
She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering his kisses. How could she ever make do with good-enough when she’d tasted paradise? If he thought he was going to be noble and she was going to give up, then he was making a grave mistake. There was an overflowing well of passion inside her, and she refused to dam it shut or let it dry up. She wanted to live her life to the full, and he was the man to help her do it.
“Miss Monteith?”
Olivia opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. Estelle was standing in front of her, hands twisting in her apron, looking worried.
“What is it, Estelle? My mother—”
“Mrs. Monteith is chatting with one of her friends in the parlor. It’s Lord Lacey I’ve come about, miss.”
“Lord Lacey?”
“H
e was thrown from his horse. He’s not badly injured,” she hastened to add, seeing Olivia’s eyes widen, “but his lame leg was twisted. He’s having trouble walking. Abbot thought you might like to know.”
“I did. I do. Thank you, Estelle.”
She wanted to go to him and see for herself that he was all right, but Olivia knew that even if she could, she wasn’t up to visiting yet. This was her first day outside in a week.
“Can you tell Abbot to inform Lord Lacey that I wish him well,” she said, calming herself. “Very well.”
Estelle smiled. “I’ll tell him, miss.”
“How—how did it happen?”
“Lord Lacey was on his way home from calling on you, miss. Some creature frightened his horse, and he was thrown. He lay there for an hour or more before he was discovered and help was sought.”
It sounded appalling, and Olivia was only glad that Nic hadn’t been killed. As it was, Estelle said he was having trouble walking, and Olivia wondered if his injuries were permanent. She had a momentary image of herself gravely nursing him through his pain. She could straighten his pillows and lift his head so that he could drink, and spoon thin beef broth into his mouth when he was hungry. Olivia pictured him gazing at her in earnest adoration and declaring how wrong he had been to reject her.
It was nonsense and she knew it, but sometimes it was pleasant to tell oneself fairy stories. In reality Nic Lacey was far more likely to curse his leg, and her, than obediently take his medicine and suck broth from a spoon. He’d probably send for some of his lady friends to cheer him up.
Her smile faded.
Nic Lacey might be a rake with a string of women in his past, but Olivia was determined that once she caught him there would be only one woman in his life.
And that was Olivia.
In Castle Lacey gardens, Nic sat gloomily in the chair Abbot had set for him, his leg resting on a mountain of cushions and the damnable walking cane close by. The scent of flowers was pleasant, the sun was warm, and the drone of bees made him sleepy. But he chafed against his forced inactivity. He was being made to feel like a cripple and he loathed it, but he’d been warned of the consequences if he didn’t do as he was told.
