“I’d wondered where you had gotten off to,” said Olivia’s voice from beside him.
He blinked, glancing down to find she had joined him, all bundled against the cold in her pelisse, hat, and fur muff. The cold kissed her cheeks with a pinkish glow, the setting sun casting prisms of lighter brown in her dark eyes.
“Just wanted to take a walk,” he murmured. “As long as we’ve lived here, I’ve spent very little time at the shore.”
“It is beautiful,” she said, turning to gaze out over the water. “When the weather is warm, we should visit with Serena and Gawain. They’d love to bathe in the water.”
He nodded, a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he imagined it—the two children in his care romping in the sand and wading in the ocean.
“Aye. I think that is a fine idea.”
“What’s this?” she asked, her hand touching his and drawing his gaze back to the shard of porcelain.
He held it up so she could see it. “Just a little something I’ve had since I was a boy.”
Taking it from his hand, she turned it over and studied it. “Porcelain?”
“Aye, a piece of a little statue from yer stepda’s study. I broke it. My da slapped me somethin’ fierce for it, and the earl made me clean it up. I kept a piece because I was so enamored with it. At the time, that porcelain and gold figure was the finest thing I’d ever touched. So I pilfered it.”
She smiled, handing the piece back to him. “I think that is sweet.”
Niall shrugged. “I dinnae know if I need it anymore. My da used to tell me that things like this were worth more than my entire life.”
Olivia made a little sound of derision, her mouth pinching as she shook her head. “I never liked that man. I hated the way he treated you, the things he’d say. I hope that by now, you’ve come to see that he was wrong, Niall. You are priceless to the people who love you … to me, most of all. I’d rather have you than all the wealth and possessions the world could offer me.”
Turning to face her, he grinned. He reached out with one arm and drew her against him, molding her body tight against his. She went pliant against him, pulling one hand free of her muff to rest it upon his chest.
“Aye, mo gradh. I feel the same way. I used to think this little bit of porcelain was so beautiful, so perfect, and valuable. But, now …”
Keeping his arm around her, he lifted the piece of the statue with his other hand and, without watching where it fell, hurled it out toward the ocean. Olivia gasped, eyes wide as she stared out at the water, then back at him.
“Why did you do that? It meant so much to you.”
He brought his other arm around her and held her even tighter, until he could feel every inch of her through the layers of his clothing and hers.
“Because, I do not need it,” he told her. “Not when I already own the most beautiful, perfect, priceless thing God ever made. Nothin’ else could ever compare to you, mo gradh.”
Her smile grew, its radiance putting the glow of the setting sun to shame. “Oh, Niall … did you ever think we could be this happy?”
He shook his head. “No, but ye always did, didn’t ye? Ye believed in us when no one else did. I guess our little game of ‘what ifs’ cannae be called a game anymore.”
Biting her lip, she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it could be the best sort of game now. I could ask you something like … ‘what if you were to take me inside to our chambers and make love to me, right now?’”
Heat flared between them as if she’d struck a match, and he was already going up in flames, burning for her as hotly as he always had. Reaching down to cup her buttocks, he gave it a little squeeze, drawing a giggle from her.
“What my Livvie wants, my Livvie gets.”
She took his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the sloping path that led back up to the castle. Clinging tight to his arm, she leaned her head against his shoulder with a contented sigh. The sound reverberated through him like a note of music, more powerful than a laugh or a sob. It was a sound that told him everything he’d ever wanted was truly his now—including a happy and contended Olivia.
EPILOGUE
1 year later …
livia squinted against the light of the afternoon sun as the door to the carriage swung open. After a long journey and several stops at inns along the way, she and Niall had reached their destination. A fortnight ago, he’d told her of a surprise he had in store for her over breakfast. He’d been up to something—she could to tell by the long hours spent in his study and the sporadic trips to Kincardinshire and other places he never told her of.
At first, she had assumed it all must be related to his newly-sprung business venture—the breeding, training, and sale of horses. The idea had come to him not long after their wedding. He had told her all about it during a walk to their favorite place on the house grounds—where they’d shared their first kiss. Standing there beside the little pond, he’d spoken with such excitement of his ideas, sparking a matching fervor in her.
“I know we have everythin’ we’ll ever need,” he had told her. “But I dinnae have it in me to live like those other gents … so pampered I start to grow soft.”
Poking his flat stomach, she had grinned. “It’d take quite a bit of indulgence to turn you soft.”
“Still,” he’d insisted. “I always wanted to make my own way in the world. Since we wed, I’ve been thinkin’ of how I could do that. I think this is it, Livvie.”
They’d gone back into the house, to the room that had once been her stepfather’s study. There, they’d spent hours planning and talking of how it would be, the sort of reputation he could build as a breeder of fine horseflesh. With the decades’ worth of knowledge he possessed of the beasts, Olivia had predicted he’d be a smashing success.
Thus far, he’d erected a separate stable, carriage house, and circle of paddocks on the grounds of Dunvar House—where he kept the horses he would breed. He expected several foals in the coming weeks, and a recent trip to Tattersall’s had seen him the proud owner of a trio of carriage horses—one male and two female. He hoped to breed a pair like his beloved Cally and Celeste, a prize worthy of pulling the equipage of any London gent.
Thanks to Adam’s influence and connections, he’d begun to amass a growing clientele of gentlemen in Edinburgh who hired him for the training of their stock. As word of his skill with the horses began to spread, Dunvar began to see more and more visitors as men journeyed from clear across England to seek his expertise.
Olivia had realized that his erratic behavior had nothing to do with business on the day he’d informed her that they were to take a trip together, just the two of them. On their way out of Scotland, they would deposit Gawain and Serena at Dunnottar with Adam and Daphne. Olivia had not wanted to trouble them, with Daphne being confined and the birth of her babe looming near. But her sister-in-law had insisted that it would be no trouble and she’d enjoy having the little ones about. Olivia imagined she’d grown quite bored during her confinement, especially considering Adam would hardly allow her to lift a finger, let alone walk about the castle, or even across a room.
All had been arranged, right down to the packing of her trunk. Puzzled and a bit excited, she had trusted Niall’s guidance, refraining from asking where they were going or when they would get there. It proved difficult, especially as it grew apparent they were headed to some farflung place.
Now, as she blinked to clear her vision, stepping onto the cold, hard ground of wherever they’d ended up, her heart began to pound. Her mouth went dry when Niall guided her forward, revealing what they had traveled across the entire country to reach. Her stomach clenched, and bile rose up in her throat as she took in the massive stone tower stretching up toward the sky. Like some monolith straight out of Hell, it taunted her, reminders of the time she’d spent here flooding her mind in an instant.
“Niall…”
His hand came to t
he small of her back, strong and sure. “It’s all right, mo gradh.”
Swallowing past the nausea welling in her chest, she blinked back tears. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had brought her back to the asylum where she had suffered up until Serena’s birth. The place where she had lost hold of her mind.
“Why?” she croaked, turning a questioning gaze up to him. “Why would you bring me here?”
To her surprise, he smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Ye trust me, don’t ye, Livvie?”
Despite the terror ripping through her like a hurricane, she nodded. “You know that I do.”
“Then trust that I’ve brought ye here for a good reason,” he said. “Ye’ll understand it all in a moment.”
Then, he was propelling her along, steering her toward the monstrous tower, his hand slipping tight around her waist to offer support. She did not want to go there. She did not want to be anywhere near this wretched place. Tremors wracked her from head to toe, her stomach churning and roiling as she fought not to be sick. For the first time in a while, the craving for laudanum reared its ugly head—hard and swift. It did not happen as often as it used to, but when dark moments fell upon her, she began to long for the thing she’d set aside. She wondered if she might always wrestle with these cravings. However, she did not dwell on those thoughts, nor did she live her life in fear of these episodes. They came, she endured them, and found some other thing to focus upon. Before long, the pain would ease, and she’d emerge on the other side, as strong as ever.
She could do this. She would face whatever awaited her inside this tower, and she would come out of it unscathed.
As they neared the place, she felt as if it were six years ago, and she was being left here by a carriage speeding off into the night. As if she were the frightened girl once again, facing an unknown fate.
But, one look at Niall helped her to remember. Her present life was more than she’d ever dreamed it could be, and her future shone bright before her.
They slowed as they neared the large, wooden double doors leading into the maw of the stone edifice, finding that they were not alone. Waiting just within those open doors stood several people—men and women whose faces she recognized as they grew closer.
Lady Parham and her husband; Miss Agatha Daventry and her brother, Lucien; Mrs. Viola Cathorn and Mr. Cathorn. Victims of Bertram and the men who loved them.
“Lady Gibbs!” Lady Parham called out, the first to rush forward and greet her. “How good it is to see you again. You look splendid!”
Dumbfounded, Olivia managed to embrace the woman, though she could not stop staring about her, slack-jawed.
“It is lovely to see you, as well … all of you. But, what is going on? My husband has told me nothing.”
Mr. Cathorn bowed to her with a smile. “He wanted it to be a surprise. How he managed to keep it all from you is beyond me. Well done, Mr. Gibbs.”
She glanced back to Niall, who gave her a sheepish grin. “I didnae think ye’d understand unless ye saw it for yourself.”
She huffed, furrowing her brow. “Saw what?”
Agatha took her arm and gently pulled her forward, gesturing for her to come inside. Olivia shuddered, a chill sweeping through her. A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought of stepping foot into this place. She half-expected Mother Dragon to come roaring around a corner at any moment, despite the evidence that tower and the convent looming in the distance had been abandoned. What could they be doing here?
It all became clear the moment Agatha turned her to face a wall of the vestibule. The stained glass windows overhead cast colorful prisms across the stone, a sickeningly cheerful display inside a place that held so many awful memories for her.
But then, a bronze plaque—newly affixed to the stone—caught her attention. She gasped, turning back to Niall to confirm that she’d read it right.
Giving her a smile, he nodded. “Aye, mo gradh … ye’re seein’ it right.”
Turning back to the plaque, she pressed a hand over her mouth and took a step forward. With a shaking hand, she reached out to touch it, her gloved fingers tracing the grooves of the fresh-carved letters.
GOODALL HOUSE. A HOME FOR UNWED MOTHERS AND ORPHANS.
Tears filled her eyes, and she turned to find Agatha beside her, her own face wet from crying.
“It was Mr. Gibbs’ idea,” she said. “He fronted the money if we would help him staff the place.”
“With our connections to various charities in London, it was an easy feat,” Viola declared from Olivia’s other side. “As you know, Mr. Cathorn and I welcomed a son into the world not long ago. Through all the months I carried him, I could not stop thinking of you in this wretched place … what you must have gone through, how the other women trapped here must have suffered.”
“It seemed like an act of God for Mr. Gibbs to come to us with his idea,” Mr. Cathorn said, bracing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We were pleased to do whatever we could.”
Olivia blinked, a warm deluge of tears wetting her face as more welled up to take their place. She felt as if a dam within her had broken to pieces.
“Everything has been set in motion,” Niall declared, from where he stood behind her. “The rooms have been gutted and refurnished, and the staff will arrive in a fortnight to start recievin’ mothers and their little ones. Ye’ll be happy to know the woman runnin’ the place is a proper matron … an old nanny who’s raised many a bairn, includin’ three of her own.”
“And that’s not all,” Agatha said with a smile. “There will be midwives to birth the babes, nannies to care for the orphans, tutors to teach them!”
“And we’ll ensure the various charities who helped get this place up and running continue to do so,” Lucien offered. “The London Ladies’ Charitable Society has already begun gathering supplies to get us through winter.”
Olivia could no longer contain the sob welling in her chest, her legs going weak. She felt as if she might fall to the ground, sobbing and laughing in relief and gratitude.
Niall was there when she turned around, his arms coming around her, his gaze holding hers.
“Do ye like it, Livvie?” he asked, worry straining his voice.
She could see his uncertainty. He wondered if bringing her here might have been a mistake.
She smiled through her tears and reached up to cup his face. “You did this for me?”
He nodded, reaching up to swipe away the tear racing down one cheek. “Aye, mo gradh. I know we’ve moved on with our lives, and ye’ve been happy. But I look at ye every day and think of the time ye spent here. I couldnae stop thinkin’ of it, dreamin’ about it some nights. I couldnae stand for this place to go on bein’ used as an asylum. It was sheer good luck when I came to find it had been abandoned two years past. I hope ye dinnae mind … it was expensive.”
She laughed. “It is about time you spend our money on something.”
“I did build the stables and buy those horses,” he argued.
“Money you’ll make back in no time,” she countered. “This is different, Niall … this … this is the most wonderful use of it I could ever think of. Of course I do not mind. Thank you.”
He lowered his head to kiss her brow, his hands coming against her waist. “Ye dinnae have to thank me. Not when ye know I’d do anything for ye … for you, and Serena, and Gawain … and this little one right here.”
She glanced down to where his hands cradled the soft swell of her belly, newly grown to display her condition. When so much time had passed without her coming up pregnant, Olivia had worried that something might be wrong with her. There had been so much blood when she’d birthed Serena, so much pain. But, four short weeks ago, she had noted the changes that marked the growth of new life within her.
This was why Niall had done what he had … why he’d been unable to stop thinking of the last time she’d been with child. This time would be different. This time, all would be as it should have been all
along. She had not realized it until just now, but this had been the last thing she’d needed to look forward, to release that last piece of her past.
Resting her hands on top of Niall’s where they lay against her belly, she gazed up into the eyes of the man she loved.
“You see, Niall? I told you I always believed you were meant for something else … something wonderful and unbelievable.”
Edging close to her and ignoring their present company, he dipped his head, aiming his mouth at hers for a kiss.
“Of course I was, mo gradh. Lovin’ you … that’s what I was meant to do.”
Tilting her head back to surrender to the kiss, she felt like a girl again, swept to that moment by the pond when he’d first touched his lips to hers. It seemed he would never lose the power to make her feel this way.
“And how well you do it, Mr. Gibbs,” she teased when they pulled apart.
His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her. “Forever and always, Lady Gibbs.”
Coming Soon
The Damsel (A Villain Duology Sequel)
The final Villain novel
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The Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Series
Masquerade
A Marriage Most Scandalous
Tempting Two
Submitting to the Marquis
Dominating Mr. Darling
Her Beautiful Bastard
Scandalous Christmas Encounters Vol. 1
Scandalous Christmas Encounters Vol. 2
Enjoy this Dark Romance duology, The Villain
The Villain
The Butterfly Formatted Page 32
