by Ava Stone
She stood up, hands on her hips, glowering at him. “You’ll do no such thing, unless you plan to move me into this room. I will never leave your side, so don’t even think about it.”
What could he possibly say to that? Besides, she was here, looking delectable. Alex lifted his counterpane as an invitation for her to join him in his bed. With a look of surprise, Livvie quickly slid beneath the covers before he could change his mind. He held her back against the wall of his chest and pressed a kiss to her neck. “My stubborn wife.”
It was overwhelmingly comfortable to have her share his bed. Alex sighed and splayed his hand possessively across her taught belly. This was how he’d wanted it all along, but it just wasn’t wise. Damn her for taking advantage of him in this vulnerable state.
“Alex,” she finally whispered, “what haunts you?”
“Olivia, go to sleep.” Letting her stay was one thing. Telling her was something else.
“I only want to help you.”
If only she could. Alex laughed sadly. “Sweetheart, you can’t help. I’ve been having those dreams on and off since before you were born.”
She took a moment, apparently to absorb that before stating, “Talking about them can help. It has for me in the past.”
“Talking about it won’t help.”
“How do you know? Have you talked to someone else?”
“Sweetheart, you’re making it impossible for me to go back to sleep.”
Olivia turned in his arms. Her beautiful face, so filled with concern, touched his soul. “Good. I don’t want you to go back to sleep. I want you to tell me what wakes you at night.”
Apparently, she wouldn’t stop until he told her something. He heaved a giant sigh. “My mother, Olivia. Are you happy now?” He hadn’t spoken of her in years. How strange it was to say those words.
“What about your mother?” she asked softly.
He hugged her against him and kissed her brow, feeling more peace than he had in the longest while. “You are most obstinate. Very well. If I tell you, will you promise to go back to sleep?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When I was told my mother died, I was convinced that I was responsible for her death.” The images were always of her mangled body and his father’s bloodied hands. Even though in the light of day he knew the dreams were false, when he was dreaming, the rational part of his mind didn’t function properly. The visions were so awful, so real, he always woke up. Panting. Sweating. Cursing himself a fool for falling victim to it again.
Olivia placed her delicate hand on his chest. “What happened, my darling?” she asked in the most soothing voice.
He had no intention of telling her. She didn’t need to know. But he found himself saying, “It was my mother’s birthday. She was always skittish, as if she was constantly about to jump out of her skin, especially around my father—which was understandable. No one liked to spend an inordinate amount of time with the man. Perhaps his well-paid paramours, but no one else.” Then with a self-deprecating laugh he added, “I know. Like father like son.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Olivia protested and snuggled closer to him, her lithe body molding so perfectly against his.
He stroked her back, relishing the feel of her connected to him. “It’s all right if you were. I’ve thought it enough times myself.”
“Why do you think her death was your fault?”
“I don’t anymore,” he confessed. After all, one couldn’t be responsible for the death of a woman who was still alive. “But I did then. I’d gone to her chamber to surprise her with flowers. I heard screaming. The door was bolted, and I peeked through keyhole to see her maid attacking her, or so I thought, and I ran to for my father for help. He was just down the hall.” His body tensed with the telling, and Olivia held him closer. “Father rushed to her room and broke open the door…” He choked at the memory. Not an attack, an intimate encounter. One he’d been too innocent to understand at the time.
“And?” Livvie prompted.
“The maid wasn’t attacking her.”
“But she was screaming? What was the maid doing?”
“Pleasuring her. They were screams of ecstasy.” He snorted at the memory. “Apparently the only thing my father, mother, and I have had in common is we all preferred women in our beds.”
Olivia sucked in a breath.
“Father was furious. He beat the maid senseless and then started on Mother.” He’d never seen the man in such a fit before. He still couldn’t get his father’s bloodied hands out of his memory.
“And she died?” Olivia asked horrified.
“No, but a week later father sent me off to Harrow, two years earlier than anyone else. I never saw either of my parents again.” That was mostly true. He’d seen his mother once more, years later, though he preferred never to think about that meeting.
“Well, Alex, I don’t see how you’d be responsible then.”
“You didn’t see her before I left. She was barely recognizable and she blamed me.” She still did. “So when I got a letter from my father’s solicitor later that year saying that my mother had died, I felt certain that it was at my father’s hands. Because of what he’d seen, what I’d brought him there to see. Sleeping with another man was one thing, but a woman… Well, that he wouldn’t tolerate.”
“He killed her?”
“I’d always believed so. I knew her blood was on my hands. After that, I spent every holiday from school those first few years with her sister, my Aunt Mary—the one who was married to a country vicar. You remember the rumors about the vicar’s wife I installed here.”
“She really was your aunt?”
He chuckled, running his hand along her back, finding comfort. “She really was. After I met Simon and the others though, I spent time with their families, and didn’t go back to Aunt Mary’s. Father didn’t want me home, and I didn’t want to be there.”
“You never saw him again?”
“Never. Though I did hear things about him, naturally. I wasn’t the first wicked Duke of Kelfield. My father had quite the reputation before me. I’ve simply picked up the torch.”
“I can’t imagine what you saw. My poor Alex.”
He kissed the top of her head. His dear, sweet wife. “I’m hardly poor.”
“Have you had the awful dreams for twenty-four years?”
They’d stopped for a while after he found out she was still alive, only to start up again at the most inopportune times. “When I was a boy, almost every night. As I got older, I would go through periods of having them and then they’d go away again.”
“How long has this set been going on?”
“They started my first night at Prestwick Chase.”
“How long do they last? When was the time before that?”
“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve told you what happened. It’s late. Go back to sleep.”
Livvie awoke to the most wonderful feeling—Alex holding her in his arms and kissing her neck. Then he rose above her and smiled rakishly. “Ah, sleeping beauty awakes.”
“What time is it?” Honestly, it seemed dreadfully early.
He answered by opening her wrapper and laving one aching nipple. “I do think I could get used to you sleeping in my bed.”
Livvie couldn’t hide her smile. “Finally! I’ve been asking you for that since our wedding.”
“My little minx,” he replied before returning his lips to her skin, and one hand found her damp opening between springy curls.
Livvie closed her eyes, breathing in sandalwood and savoring the feel of him all around her. Then he stopped moving and chuckled. She opened her eyes, to find him grinning wickedly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, once again stroking the damp curls between her legs, nearly making her come undone. “This awful ball Caroline is making us attend. I truly detest such events. To make it bearable for me, don’t wear any drawers to Staveley’s that night.”
Her eyes grew round with sur
prise and she gasped. What a most improper suggestion. Even from him! “Alex!”’
He nuzzled against her neck. “Be a good girl, Olivia, and do as I request.”
“I could never do such a thing,” she sputtered, but gasped again as his finger found her entrance.
“Oh, I think you could,” he said smoothly. “We won’t be able to escape for long, and I want to have instant access to you, sweetheart.” His finger delved deeper, just as his thumb found her sensitive little nub. Livvie thought she would expire on the spot. When she groaned from the pleasure he stoked in her, Alex whispered in her ear, “Say it, Olivia. Say, ‘Yes, Alex. I won’t wear drawers to the ball.’”
She wished she could resist him, but as she tried to shake her head the intensity of his fingers increased. “Y-yes, Alex. I won’t wear drawers to the ball, damn you.”
He chuckled against the soft skin of her neck before he nipped her there. “Good girl. Now let me reward you.”
Lying sated and boneless in Alex’s arms, Livvie smiled against his chest. Her husband was simply amazing. She could stay lying with him like this forever.
Without any warning, the bedroom door flew open and Poppy raced inside. “Olivia, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Poppy!” her father barked, jerking up from his spot. “Out! You can’t come barging in here like this.”
Her bottom lip thrust outward to an immediate pout. “But, Papa, my new dresses are here.”
Pulling the counterpane up to her neck, Livvie sat up in the bed. “Poppy dear, go to Mrs. Bickle and I’ll be along shortly.”
She did as she was bid, skipping out of the room without a care in the world.’ Alex fell onto his back with a thud. “Dear God, I think she just took five years off my life.”
Livvie snuggled against him, kissing his chest. “I’m just glad she didn’t come in five minutes earlier.”
Alex groaned at the thought. “I’m going to have to bolt the door with crossbars.”
Livvie slid out of bed, wrapping her robe tightly around her. “As long as it’s not bolted against me.”
He grinned at her. “You’ve become quite the little wanton, Olivia. Didn’t I tell you long ago that I’d make you want me?”
“Arrogant man,” she replied with an answering grin. Then she started for the connecting door. “Before you leave for the day, do come and see Poppy’s new dresses. She is very excited about them, obviously. And she’s been wearing that tattered blue dress over and over since you apparently told her she looks like a princess in it.”
“I’m amazed the dresses are here. Madam Fournier is not the quickest modiste in London.”
Livvie quirked a grin at him, she couldn’t help herself. “Oh? Have you ordered something from Madam?”
His silver eyes narrowed to little shards. “What do you know?”
“Nothing,” she said brightly, feigning innocence. “Is there something to know?”
He climbed out of bed in naked splendor and stalked towards her. “You do know. She told you.”
Livvie shook her head. “Only because I was going to order something myself, and she saved me the embarrassment. I do not know what you’ve ordered. I blush every time I think about it.”
“I like it when you blush.” Alex pinned her against the door, kissing her neck and caressing her curves, the evidence of his desire pressing against her belly.
“Alexander Everett,” she panted, playfully pushing against his muscled chest, “your daughter is waiting for me.”
“She can wait a bit longer,” he growled, scooping Livvie back in his arms. Then he returned her to his bed and made love to her all over again.
“I have seen neither hide nor hair of you since Macbeth,” came the lazy drawl of Marcus Gray over the murmur of the other members of White’s.
The club was traditionally too mainstream for Alex, but he was trying his best to play the role of respectable husband. Olivia hadn’t mentioned her estrangement from Miss Avery since that first day, but he knew it still bothered her.
“What does that tell you, Marc?” Seated in an over-stuffed leather chair, Alex didn’t even bother to look up from his perusal of The Times. That should have been rude enough to make any decent person leave him in peace.
Of course, Marc wasn’t decent. “Well, you can’t be avoiding me. So I can only assume you’re keeping that pretty little wife of yours tied up at Kelfield House. Has she asked about me?” The marquess flopped down on a settee across from him and smirked.
Alex could see the smirk right over the edge of his paper and he scowled in response. “Only to berate me for my poor choice of friends.”
“Browbeaten already, are you?” Marc asked cheerfully.
Alex folded his paper in half, narrowing his eyes on his old debauched friend. “I’m certain you know me better than that, Haversham. Now what do you want?”
“To curse you for leaving Miss Kane so well positioned.”
“Turned you down flat, did she?” Good for Sarah.
“Bastard,” he answered with an incline of his head. “She’s attached herself to Haywood. Can you believe that?”
The penniless Lord Haywood was a bit of a surprise. Though he was young, closer to Sarah’s age than either himself or Haversham. The whelp had better treat her well. He shrugged his answer. “I told you, Sarah is free to make her own choices.”
“I still can’t account for you just giving her up. Doesn’t seem like you at all.”
“Well, times change.”
“Ah, Kelfield, there you are,” came Simon’s deep voice from behind them. “Ready for tonight?”
“What’s tonight?” Marc asked, rising from his seat to shake Simon’s hand.
“Nothing,” Alex answered, though he was drowned out by Simon’s reply.
“Caroline Staveley’s ball, of course.”
Marc fell back on the settee with a laugh. “You? A ball?”
“It’s for Olivia,” Alex growled.
Marc’s laughter echoed of the walls of the club. “God, Kelfield! You’ve turned soft. Married a fortnight and she’s already wrapped you around her little finger. What’s next, Lady Astwick’s soiree? Or perhaps tea with Sally Jersey?”
“I suspect,” Simon remarked with a wolfish grin, “that Kelfield likes being wrapped around his pretty young wife. It’s always easy to spot a well-pleasured man. Which reminds me, how goes your pursuit of Miss Kane?”
Marc’s smile vanished instantly. “You can go straight to hell, Greywood.”
“That well?” Simon’s blue eyes danced wickedly. “Forget I asked.” Then he turned his attention to Alex. “Anyway, Maddie and I have been charged with escorting you and Olivia to Staveley’s, and it’s about time to leave, my friend.”
“Caroline has so little faith I’ll show up?”
Simon quirked one eyebrow upwards. “You are sitting here and not at home preparing for the event.”
But that didn’t mean he intended to forgo the blasted thing. “Very well. Lead on, Commander.”
Livvie gazed at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. Madam’s copper gown was extraordinary. Pearls adorned the scooped neck bodice and mesh sleeves. The silk lovingly hugged her curves, and she was surprised at the transformation. She had never worn drab gowns in the past, but this one was spectacular. She didn’t even look like the same girl. Of course, she wasn’t the same girl. Livvie Danbury was gone, replaced by Olivia Everett, the Duchess of Kelfield.
“Mmm,” grunted Alex from their connecting door. Then he stalked towards her, raking his lingering gaze across her. “You are breathtaking.”
“Please, Alex,” she said modestly.
He grinned wolfishly. “I can hardly wait to peel it off you. Say we can stay here instead of going.”
“You,” she giggled, “will do anything to avoid this ball. But Caroline would just march over here and drag us both kicking and screaming. That would not do to help repair my image.”
“I think your image
is perfect.” Alex ran his hands lightly along her arms.
“Well, of course you do. You’re the wicked Duke of Kelfield, who does whatever he pleases.” Then she placed her hand on his chest, staring up into his silver eyes. “Besides, Cordie will be there tonight, and I haven’t been able to speak to her since before our wedding. I miss her dreadfully.”
“All right, sweetheart.” He pulled her close and kissed her brow. “I’ll go, and I’ll even try to appear respectable. But you must promise to follow me if we get the chance to be alone.”
“We can be alone here, when we return.”
“It’s not the same thing. Sneaking about adds an air of excitement to the whole mix. Like when you visited my room in Prestwick Chase.”
He’d kissed her for the first time in that room. She’d never been the same since that visit. But he was right—it was exciting. “Whatever my husband wishes.”
Caroline smiled as Alex and Livvie entered her ballroom along with Simon and Madeline Greywood. Something told her that the decision to have the four of them arrive together was a good one.
Next to Caroline, her brother Robert Beckford, Earl of Masten cursed under his breath. “I detest Kelfield,” he complained, not for the first time that evening.
Caroline resisted the urge to grind her teeth together, as doing so would negatively affect the serene look she had mastered for the evening. Besides tonight she needed to maintain her temper. She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Yes, Robert, you’ve made that abundantly clear. But as he’s family now, I’ll thank you to hold your tongue. At least for tonight. Livvie needs our support.”
Robert scowled, looking again across the room at Olivia. “None of this would have happened if Aunt Jane had sent her to stay with Lydia and me—”
“She would have been miserable,” Caroline interrupted him. “Her friends are here. Her life is here. And I, for one, don’t appreciate your implications, Robert. Livvie has been with us for over a year, and until now nothing untoward—”
“Until now, indeed.”
Caroline glowered at her brother. “I’ve heard all I intend to, Robert. Now, I want you to stay near Livvie. And when Clayworth gets here he can help you stand sentry.”