by Lily Maxton
And that was what she needed to hear. She went to him, then. Or flew at him, actually. She rose from her stiff position on the sofa straight into his open arms. She clasped her hands tightly around the back of his neck and tugged his head down so she could kiss him.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
She traced his lower lip with her tongue.
“I’ll take it as one,” he said, laughing.
She drew back a moment later, breathless and giddy because she’d never before experienced such searing joy. “You should have let me read your poems sooner,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I haven’t been able to touch you in a fortnight. Let’s discuss it later.”
His fingers tangled in her hair as he lovingly pressed his mouth to hers, and he slowly undid the pins, letting the tendrils slide across his hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said, “so much. I’ve ached for you.”
“Now you’re here,” she whispered, holding him tight.
“Now I’m here,” he agreed, and captured her mouth in a loving kiss.
And that was how her family found them when they tumbled into the sitting room—locked in a scandalous, passionate, heartfelt embrace.
Her mother swooned, and her father yelled for the hartshorn before Olivia and William broke apart, finally noticing their interlude had been interrupted. Her sisters squealed, and instantly the two of them were enveloped by hugging arms and joyful tears.
William lifted his eyebrows, and Olivia laughed, and then they kissed again, in happy disarray.
Epilogue
A Few Months Later
Their marriage had been the talk of London for weeks. A few people said William had made his love match. Most people—as everyone knew some sordid version of what had happened at Eastwold Abbey—said he’d suffered an attack of conscience. Because, honestly, they whispered, how could the youngest and dullest Middleton sister inspire love in a bachelor as sought after as Mr. Cross? She must have lured him into a compromising position on purpose.
The gossip bothered William more than it bothered his wife. She’d told him she didn’t care what people said. She knew the truth. He didn’t really care what people said, either, but he was confounded by their stupidity. Olivia dull? He’d never known anyone more interesting.
But he supposed it was their loss if they couldn’t see it. And his gain.
For their honeymoon, he’d whisked Olivia away to a secluded cottage by the sea. They’d walked the coastline and spoken their deepest thoughts to each other, stayed indoors by the roaring fire and made love, read books and discussed them. As his favorite things in all the world were his wife—particularly making love to her—and the written word, it had been a glorious trip.
They’d returned to their country estate, and the pattern of their honeymoon days had continued for some time. They’d rejected most of the invitations they received until, reluctantly, they’d decided they couldn’t escape the outside world forever.
Tonight they were attending their first ball as newlyweds, and it was a mad crush. He’d hoped for some time alone with his wife. Since he’d been neglecting his estate business while on their honeymoon, he’d spent most of the last few days catching up on meetings and poring over letters. He and Olivia had arrived at the ball separately, and nearly as soon as he’d greeted her, his new sister-in-law, Anne, had dragged her off again. They’d gotten lost in the crowd, and he still hadn’t seen her in over an hour.
So he conversed, he mingled, he was charming, he danced a few times. And he enjoyed himself. But things weren’t the same as they’d been before. There was always a niggling awareness that something was lacking. He wasn’t complete without Olivia by his side.
He had just left Lord Ashworth and was making his way across the ballroom to find her when Lady Sarah cornered him.
He bit back a sigh and bowed, as any gentleman would do. Lady Sarah returned with a curtsey that was angled to strategically slant her bosom toward him. Vaguely annoyed, he kept his gaze above her chin.
“I am so glad to see you,” she said, her fan fluttering like mad.
“Indeed?”
“You disappeared for months!” she exclaimed.
“I was on my honeymoon,” he stated.
“Which I’m certain was dreadfully dull,” she replied, a suggestive smile creeping across her face.
Fierce anger twisted his stomach. “On the contrary,” he said bluntly, letting her know he wouldn’t stand for her insulting his wife. “They were the best months of my life.”
The woman’s lips parted in a surprised “O”.
“I would highly recommend marriage,” he added.
“Would you?” she asked faintly.
“There is nothing like finding someone to share your life with. Such intimate companionship is…incomparable.”
Her mouth thinned. “Hmm,” was all she uttered.
Past her shoulder, he finally saw Olivia winding toward him through the crowd. Their gazes caught, and he smiled slowly. Lady Sarah glanced over her shoulder, then back at him, a startled frown curving her brow. He had trouble dragging his attention away from his wife.
“Is something troubling you?” he asked.
The movements of her fan were starting to slow. “It truly is a love match,” Lady Sarah said bitterly, but a little wonderingly, too. “The way you watched her just now…”
“How was that?” he asked, confused. He hadn’t realized he’d been looking at his wife in any particular way.
“As though…” She faltered. “As though you’d just found your home.”
He smiled faintly but didn’t respond. She left a moment later, and he was relieved to be rid of her.
When Olivia appeared at his side, slipped her delicate hand into his, and leaned slightly into him so he could smell the faint trace of rosewater on her skin, and especially when she whispered, right there in the crowded ballroom, that she loved him, so many emotions tangled inside him that he couldn’t decipher them all. But there was longing fulfilled, and there was peace, and there was joy.
Lady Sarah had been right.
Olivia was like coming home.
Did you love this Scandalous novel from Entangled? Check out more of our historical titles here!
Acknowledgments
Excerpt on page 2 from The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis, written in the 1700s.
About the Author
Lily Maxton grew up in the Midwest, reading, writing, and daydreaming amidst cornfields. After graduating with a degree in English, she decided to put her natural inclinations to good use and embark on a career as a writer.
When she’s not working on a new story, she likes to tour old houses, add to her tea stash, and think of reasons to avoid housework.
You can also find Lily at www.lilymaxton.com, on Twitter, and Facebook.
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The Wager
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