by Sara Bennett
Nic smiled again as he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode across the park. He and Olivia could spend many long hours in each other’s company and never grow bored. For a man who’d been more or less forced into making this marriage proposal, he was very cheerful, very cheerful indeed.
Olivia made her way through the densely growing trees, feeling the damp chill creeping through her clothing and into her flesh. She’d never liked this part of the Lacey estate. It was said in the village that these woods were the only remnant of an ancient forest, and the stone that stood in the clearing in the center was all that was left from the days of the pagan Britons, before they were swept away to the west by the incoming tides of settlers.
She remembered coming there as a child and being scared silly by the tales she’d been told of ghosts and monsters lurking in the trees, waiting to pounce on her and gobble her up. Well, she told herself, she was grown up now and she knew there was nothing to fear. Besides, Nic would be waiting there for her.
The thought of Nic warmed her, although it didn’t calm her. Her heart began to beat more quickly and her breath to shorten. She’d been longing to see him, but it seemed that since they’d announced their forthcoming wedding there was so much to be done—seeing dressmakers and cloth merchants; arranging for shoes, bonnets, flowers, invitations…The wedding was small and was to be held in the village church, but still the arrangements were endless. As soon as she finished one thing, her mother found her another to do. She was quite certain Mrs. Monteith was doing her best to keep Olivia busy so that she could keep Nic and Olivia apart.
Meet me at the pagan stone in the woods at two o’clock. I need to see you. Lacey.
Well, Olivia told herself, she needed to see Nic, too. She needed the reassurance of his smile and his strong arms. She glanced down at the heavy engagement ring he’d presented her with last week, when he and Lady Lacey had come to dine with the Monteiths. It had been an awkward affair, with Nic’s mother struggling with her disdain for a family she considered so much lower than her own, and Olivia’s mother clearly unconvinced Nic was the right man for her daughter. And then her father had insulted Lady Lacey by asking her how much she paid her estate manager.
Olivia and Nic were the only ones who seemed at all happy, and when he had presented her with the ring, he’d made a pretty little speech about it being a token of his affection. Lady Lacey informed them that the ring had been in the Lacey family for generations and had been worn by every new bride. Then Mrs. Monteith had shuddered and said that emeralds were unlucky. All the same, when Nic slid it onto Olivia’s finger, it fit perfectly, as if it was meant to be worn by her.
Olivia made her way deeper into the woods, ignoring the warning call of a bird far above her and the niggling doubt that if Nic wanted to see her then surely he would pick somewhere more pleasant than this. Unless…had he something so secret to tell her that he dared not take the risk they might be overheard?
No, that was just plain silly. If he wanted to tell her something confidential, he would ask her to visit him and sit her down in his library. No one would overhear them there.
Estelle, who’d accompanied her as far as Mother Eggin’s cottage, told her that she thought a man like Lord Lacey probably had a great many secrets, but it wasn’t likely he’d share any of them with Olivia.
Mother Eggin’s cottage was on the Lacey estate, the old woman having been a servant in the castle at one time, and been granted the right to live there. Mrs. Monteith often visited her with a basket of food or other necessaries, and Olivia had taken over the task today. Of course her real reason was so that she could meet Nic, but Estelle would remain at the cottage and wait for her return. Mother Eggin, who was ninety years old at least, would be no trouble; she habitually slept through the visits of her neighbors.
“Gentlemen don’t think their private matters are anyone’s business but their own,” Estelle had carried on, sounding as if she was quoting Abbot.
“Just be glad he’s marrying you, miss, and forget about the others. You don’t want to be like that Bluebeard’s wife, do you, and discover something awful?”
“I don’t think Nic has any other wives hidden in the cellars,” Olivia had said, smiling.
But Estelle wasn’t about to be diverted from her warning. “You never know, miss. Just as well I’ll be there with you. Me and Abbot will protect you.”
The bird in the treetops called again, bringing Olivia back to her lonely trek through the woods. She wished Estelle was with her now, and Abbot, too. But most of all she wished for Nic.
Alphonse settled himself in the undergrowth. He was wearing an overcoat and an old cap that he could pull down low over his brow. He was trying to look like a poacher, or some other kind of desperate character, just in case anybody saw him. Although he’d taken very good care that no one did. The gun was his own property, and he was a rather good shot, if he did say so himself. It was just one of his many accomplishments.
Theodore was still suffering, and still in bed. Alphonse had left him sipping peppermint tea and complaining about a headache. Well, if Theodore wouldn’t do anything to make his dreams come true, then his brother would.
Nic dismounted, leaving his horse tethered at the edge of the thick wood, and began to make his way along the narrow, overgrown path. He didn’t come there often—there was something alienating about this place. He knew of the rumors of pagan rites and witches’ covens meeting in secret around the old stone, but he’d never seen any sign of it, and he had trouble imagining the good folk of Bassingthorpe cavorting naked under the full moon.
Olivia must know of the rumors, too, and he wasn’t sure why she’d chosen this place. Any proper young lady would surely avoid the pagan stone and the clearing, but Olivia wasn’t your conventional proper young lady. There was a wild streak in her, a willingness to fly in the face of convention. He remembered that when he’d suggested he might pretend to be his wicked Lacey ancestor while she pretended to be a beautiful peasant girl, she’d not only agreed, she’d reveled in it.
Had Olivia brought him there for more playacting? Nic could be the pagan prince and Olivia the willing sacrifice, or perhaps she was the pagan goddess and he the innocent plowman who’d stumbled into her web.
Nic grinned. He was more than ready, whatever she wanted to do. Devil take it, he could hardly wait. The rake was entirely enthralled by Miss Monteith. Not that he’d tell her that, not yet anyway. There would be plenty of time to tell each other their secrets, and he certainly was in no hurry to share Jonah with her.
Not that he was ashamed of the boy, but a secret like that…Olivia might leave him. Not physically, he knew she wouldn’t do that; their social positions made leaving impossible. As Lady Lacey, she’d stay and play her part, standing by his side in public and smiling her calm and beautiful smile, even producing the heir he required. But beneath the brittle surface he would have lost her, she’d have taken her heart and her mind somewhere else, leaving him with nothing but an empty shell.
Nic cursed softly under his breath and quickened his steps.
Olivia saw the clearing ahead of her, with the pagan stone in its center. It was actually three stones—two upright pillars with another flatter stone forming a lintel across the top—giving the impression of a roughly hewn table. The honey-colored stones glowed eerily, as if from a fire burning within them, although Olivia knew it was simply the light filtering through the leaves above. She had the impression of something very old and very powerful, standing as it did in the center of the clearing, in the center of the wood.
Softly, because it felt as if noise was forbidden here, she walked forward. No birds sang now. She might have been the only living thing in the woods…if it were not for the sensation that she was not alone. Olivia had a strong urge to glance over her shoulder, just in case there was something there, but she stifled it, telling herself not to be silly.
Nic would arrive soon.
Olivia made up her mind she’d ask him if th
ey could go somewhere else and talk—the place where the stepping stones crossed the stream would be much more comfortable. Soft grass and the ripple of the water and sunbeams shining down on them as they lay in each other’s arms. Sheer bliss.
A rustle at the far edge of the clearing distracted her. “Nic?” She listened intently but the sound didn’t come again, and she could see nothing but shadows among the trees. With a sigh she stood restlessly by the stone and prepared to wait.
Alphonse heard Olivia’s call and knew she was in place. Good. He settled his gun against his shoulder, sighting along the barrel. Nic would be coming along the path in a moment, all unsuspecting and full of his victory. Let him enjoy it while he could, Alphonse didn’t begrudge him a few more moments of triumph, because very soon Lacey would be gone and Theodore could take what was rightfully his.
Footsteps.
He watched intently from his hiding place as a figure approached, at first just a dark shape moving between the tree trunks, and then growing clearer as it drew closer. Lacey’s head was bowed, and he was limping slightly—Theodore had said something about him being lame. Alphonse knew the exact spot where he was going to pull the trigger. There was a dip in the path and then a fallen log. To get to the clearing, Lacey would have to climb over the log, and that would make him the perfect target.
Alphonse’s finger waited on the trigger and he took a breath, clenching his teeth. One moment more and it would all be over.
Lacey reached the fallen log and stopped. Alphonse could see him deciding how best to climb over it with the burden of his lame leg. Finally he sat down and swung his leg over, and in that moment he was astride the log and facing Alphonse.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
The moment had come.
Alphonse heard her before he saw her. Olivia, running along the path from the clearing. She flung herself into Lacey’s arms, causing him to lose his balance.
Alphonse barely managed to lift the gun barrel in time, sending the bullet plowing harmlessly into the trees. The crack of the shot was deafening.
Olivia screamed. Lacey leaped over the log with her still in his arms, tumbling her down onto the ground and out of sight. Cursing under his breath, Alphonse did the only thing he could. Ran. He crashed through the undergrowth, his heart pounding, not daring to slow down or turn and see if he was being pursued.
He’d almost shot Olivia. He’d almost killed his brother’s future wife!
This was Lacey’s fault, Alphonse thought furiously. Theodore was right, the man deserved to die.
The horse was tethered on the far side of the woods, and when Alphonse reached it, he crouched over to catch his breath. It was difficult to hear with his heart thumping, but after a moment he was certain there was no one following him. He was safe. Now all he had to do was calmly ride his horse home again and pretend to be annoyed that the friend he’d set out to visit wasn’t at home.
Alphonse tore off his cap and shrugged off the overcoat, bundling both out of sight into his saddlebag. Did this mean he’d have to think up another plan? If all had gone as expected it would be over by now, and he’d be preparing to bask in Theodore’s gratitude.
He wouldn’t be able to use the forged notes again, and any arranged meeting would be looked on with suspicion. That meant he’d be hard-pressed to eliminate Lacey before the wedding.
But then it occurred to him that if Olivia Monteith was married, and then widowed, she’d stand to inherit the castle and the estate and all the Lacey wealth. As her second husband, Theodore would have the benefit of that; everything that was once Lord Lacey’s would become his.
Alphonse’s face split into a grin. Theodore would be twice as wealthy, and he’d certainly reward his brother. And this plan was bound to be even better than the last one.
Chapter 23
Nic lifted his head, listening. The sounds of running feet and a body crashing through the undergrowth had faded, and now the usual silence lay over the woods. Whoever had fired the shot had made his escape.
“Are you hurt?” came a whisper. He felt Olivia touching his face, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his skin.
“No.” He rolled off her and gave her a humorless smile. “I’m sorry I jumped on you.”
She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, looking around. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could it have been Wilson, your gamekeeper?” she said, no doubt remembering the night the fool had threatened to shoot them.
“No. If it was, he’d have come to make sure we were unharmed. Whoever fired that shot didn’t want to be seen and he certainly didn’t want to be caught.”
Nic climbed to his feet, and reached down to help her up.
She was disheveled, a leaf in her hair, and a streak of earth across her sleeve. The thought that she’d been in danger made him furiously angry, and although there was nothing he could do about it just now, he was coldly determined to discover who’d been trespassing on his land. And when he did, he promised himself he’d punish them, personally.
“Nic, why did you want to meet here?”
Olivia was on her way back toward the clearing where the stone stood. She paused to shake out her skirts and brush them down, and Nic frowned and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the folded note.
“Didn’t you send this to me?”
“Send what?” She turned, and he opened the note and read it aloud to her. There was a silence while she stared at him in bewilderment. “But you sent the same thing to me! Well, almost the same.” She took the paper and read it herself, then peered more closely at the penmanship. “I didn’t write this. It is very like, but…I know I didn’t write it.”
“And I certainly didn’t write telling you to meet me here,” Nic said quietly.
Olivia shivered and he slipped his arm around her, pulling her close. “Do you think someone brought us here on purpose?”
“It would seem so.”
“But why? The scandal is already common knowledge, and we have announced our marriage.”
“I don’t think it was to cause a scandal, Olivia.” He looked down into her eyes. “Someone was trying to frighten us.”
“Or harm us?” she said.
“They missed, remember. At such close range, they must have missed on purpose.”
“Oh Nic…”
“I know I’m not a popular man,” he said dryly, “but I can’t see why anyone would want to shoot at me. The only virgin I’ve ruined lately is you.” His mouth curled into a smile. “You don’t think your mother—”
“No, I do not! Nic, this is no laughing matter.”
He kissed her lips, just a brush of his to hers. “I know it’s not. Forgive me, my sweet.”
She turned away again, shoulders stiff with disapproval, and walked across the clearing to halt by the pagan stone. Nic followed more slowly, watching the sway of her hips, enjoying the muted glow of her hair in the gloom.
“I often wondered what went on here,” he said, and paced around the stones, allowing his hand to trail across the smooth, worn surface of the lintel stone. “Fertility rites? What do you think, Olivia? Did our village ancestors dance naked under the stars, taking their pleasure where they fell?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean…?”
“An orgy? Yes, why not? They’d be masked, of course, to intensify the excitement and the mystery.”
“Yes,” she said wryly, “I can see if you lived in a village you’d prefer not to know who you were lying with, in case it was your butcher or your baker.”
“Or the vicar.”
She looked shocked, and Nic chuckled.
“Do you think they made sacrifices on this stone?” she went on, recovering.
“No. I think the only sacrifices here were ones of the flesh. A willing maiden laid out for the master to enjoy.”
She shivered, but he didn’t think it was from fear.
“Here,” he said, and moved aroun
d to stand beside her. “Climb up.”
Olivia hesitated, her eyelashes shielding her eyes. She licked her lips, like a wild animal in danger, and he felt himself grow hard. He clasped his hands about her waist before she could protest, and lifted her onto the stone. She leaned against him, and he rested his cheek against the softness of her breasts, breathing in her scent.
“What if he comes back?”
“Why should he? He’s done what he set out to do.”
He clasped her hip, pressing her rounded flesh through her skirts and petticoats, and then slid his hand down her thigh. She lifted his face to hers and began to kiss him, slowly, taking her time, enjoying herself. Nic delved beneath her skirts, working his way toward his goal.
He could sense the tension in her, the excitement, as he drew closer. And then his fingers slid inside and Olivia gasped, a slave to her body’s demands and Nic’s clever fingers, as he began stroking her slick flesh. She groaned against his mouth.
“Nic,” she whispered. “Would it be wrong of me to admit that I want you?”
He grinned. “Very wrong indeed,” he teased, retaking her mouth with his. He tasted her passion, felt her need for him as she wrapped her arms about his neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him closer against her.
He thought about taking her now, him standing up, but he’d already decided to continue with the fantasy of the willing sacrifice, and he didn’t want to spoil it for either of them.
“Imagine it’s nighttime,” he began, his breathing ragged against her throat, “with the sky full of stars. The master stands over you, masked. He is touching you, just like this…” She gasped. “There are others here, and they want to touch you, too, but he won’t allow it. You belong to him and only him.”
She reached down to where his cock strained inside his trousers, rubbing her hand against him. “And he belongs to me,” she whispered, and he heard her smile.
