by Sara Lindsey
But it was forbidden without the bonds of matrimony and, having had firsthand experience of the “ ’til death do us part” aspect of marriage, Jason knew without a moment’s hesitation that he would rather die of unrequited lust than ever again chance the death of love’s bond.
Chapter 9
“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.”
Twelfth Night, Act III, Scene 1
Olivia was not certain whether the marquess was avoiding her in particular or if he was avoiding company in general, but he made himself very scarce over the days following their disagreement. He sat down with them at meals, but he remained withdrawn and excused himself directly afterward, even in the evenings. Aunt Kate sighed and shook her head each time he retreated, but she seemed to sense, as they all did, that he was waging some internal battle, so she let him be.
Livvy had little time to fixate on the situation, for she was busy helping prepare for Twelfth Night, and her free moments were spent either playing with the children or searching through books in the library for some remedy that might help Edward.
How odd it was to think she would be leaving Arlyss in less than a fortnight. She remembered Charles telling her how fond Laura had been of this place, and she understood the feeling well. The castle had all of the modern comforts one could want while retaining its rich history. There was a sort of magic in knowing that families had lived in this same space, walked on this same ground, and breathed this same air for over six hundred years. The castle had stood strong against both human strife and the ravages of time, and it would remain as a safe haven for many generations to come.
Something at Arlyss—and someone, she admitted to herself—called to her. Livvy had always supposed she could never love a place so well as she loved Weston Manor, but she had been wrong. Or perhaps she had been away from Weston Manor for so many months—the longest time she had spent away from there in her life—she was learning to think of “home” in other terms.
Was home truly where the heart was, adjustable to wherever a person’s loved ones might be? Could a person have more than one home in which he or she truly belonged? Or was a person meant to have just one home, but that home changed over time just as people changed over time? She posed these questions to Charles as he sat with her in the library one day.
“Does it really matter, so long as you have a roof over your head and a comfortable place to sleep?” he asked her.
“Obviously not to you,” she retorted, then sighed and set down the book she was looking through. “I beg your pardon. I am a bit out of sorts today.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Fretting over Jason?”
Olivia swallowed hard. “What makes you say that?” “My dear girl, I’m not blind. The attraction is plain to see. When the two of you are in a room together, sparks practically fly.”
“I am sure you are mistaken. We are constantly at odds,” Livvy protested.
“You know why that is. You said it yourself the other day. Jason picks quarrels to keep you at a distance. He’s frightened of you.”
“Of me?” Olivia was incredulous. “Why should he be frightened of me? Aunt Kate is much scarier.”
Charles laughed. “True, but he isn’t attracted to her.”
“He’s not attracted to me, either,” she mumbled.
“If you don’t mind, I believe I will take his word over yours.”
Livvy nearly pounced on him. She shoved the book back on the shelf and hurried over to sit beside him. “Do you mean he actually said so? When?”
“The day I arrived. He took me straight to his study and warned me to stay away from you. He was worried you would be unable to resist my charms.”
She gave him a pointed look.
Charles grinned. “He may not have used those exact words, but that was the sentiment.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“It is past time for him to be happy again.”
Olivia pondered this for a moment. “And you think I am the one to make him happy? He could have his pick of women. Don’t you suppose he would prefer someone . . .”
“Someone?” he prompted.
“You know what I mean.” She waved a hand at herself.
“Someone taller?”
Fine. She would say it. “Someone prettier.”
Charles looked at her in confusion. “I don’t know what looking glass you’ve been checking lately, but I suggest you have it replaced.”
“There is nothing wrong with my looking glass. I see the same reflection no matter which mirror I find myself in front of. If you could see me standing beside my sister, the difference would become clear. Isabella is a Great Beauty. I imagine your sister was as well.” A wistful sigh escaped her.
“Laura was lovely, a true English rose, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In any case, Jason would never be content with merely a pretty face. A featherbrained woman would be unable to hold his interest. He needs the sort of challenge you present.”
“Someone to argue with, you mean? I doubt such a relationship would make me happy. What if I don’t want him?”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“All right, I want him,” she admitted. “In my defense, you would be hard-pressed to find a woman who wouldn’t want him. The man is positively sinful. But I don’t want to have my heart broken.”
“Why do you think he would break your heart? You must know from reading her diary that he didn’t break Laura’s.”
“No,” Olivia said sadly. “She broke his. For all I know, he’ll never be able to truly love again.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do. I’m not asking you to marry the man tomorrow. I only want you to give him a chance. He is going to fight his feelings every step of the way, but you cannot give up on him. As long as you think there is a possibility you belong together, you have to fight, too.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she said truthfully. “What if I fight him—fight for him—and lose?”
He thought on that for a long moment. Finally he said, “Can you tell me, in all honesty, that your feelings are not already engaged to some extent?”
She knew she could not. If she did not care at all, she would not be so afraid to lose. She gave a single, jerky shake of her head.
“Then you will wind up hurt either way, so you may as well try. He would be a fool to let you go, and Jason is not a stupid man.” Charles put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “Chin up, love. I’m sure you—”
He broke off as the marquess burst into the library, already talking as he entered.
“Miss Weston, your aunt—” He broke off, scowling as he took in the scene.
Charles had snatched his arm back to his side as soon as the door had opened, but apparently he had not been quick enough. Still, however suspicious the scene might appear, they had done nothing wrong, Olivia reminded herself. She fixed a level gaze on Lord Sheldon.
“Sir Charles has been so kind as to keep me company while I look through countless dull volumes in search of some remedy that might help your son.”
She emphasized the last two words in an effort to try to restore the balance of power to herself. It seemed to work, for the marquess halted his tirade and just stood silently, glaring at her. She refused to be cowed.
Let the battle begin.
“You mentioned my aunt?”
“Katherine asked me to fetch you to dress for dinner. She mentioned you tend to lose track of time in a library.”
Olivia glanced out the window and saw how dark it had grown. “Thank you, my lord. I confess I did not realize the lateness of the hour.”
He took a few steps toward them and held out an arm. “Come, Miss Weston. As we have the same destination, we may as well walk together. We will see you shortly, Charles.”
The marquess said nothing as they walked through the castle. Though the window in the haunted tower room had been fixed, Livvy had remained in the Marchioness�
�s Chambers. There had been no suggestion of moving her, for which she had been glad. She liked knowing that she was near in case Edward was sick in the night again.
She also liked knowing that, while she was lost in dreams, the marquess slumbered so close by. Her feelings were quite unmistakably engaged. She sighed.
“Is something the matter, Miss Weston?” Lord Sheldon inquired.
Yes, Livvy wanted to shout at him. I wanted to help you move past your grief without getting involved. I don’t want to care. Not about your home, not about your son, and certainly not about you. But now it’s too late, and I fear my heart will not escape this unscathed.
She could say none of that, and thinking about it had brought a lump to her throat, so she shook her head in response.
Her answer failed to satisfy the marquess.
“Miss Weston, I should tell you—That is, I hope—”
He fumbled for the right words, more ill at ease than Livvy had ever seen him. Her heart skipped a beat. Had he somehow read her mind? Was it possible he was about to admit—?
“It is only natural, while you are under my roof, that I feel a certain . . . a certain responsibility for you. To that end, I feel I must warn you not to pay too much heed to my brother-in-law’s attentions. Flirtation is naught but a game to him, a means of alleviating boredom, and you would be unwise to hope for anything more.”
This was his grand confession? Warning her away from Charles? Disappointment made her voice sharp. “I appreciate your concern, my lord, but it is as unnecessary as it is unfounded. Sir Charles has behaved like the gentleman he is, and what feelings I have for him are those of dearest friendship.”
He arched one eyebrow in obvious disbelief, which made him look quite supercilious. Olivia mentally added that ability to the list she was keeping of the marquess’s annoying traits.
“Men and women are rarely capable of lasting friendship, Miss Weston. Someone always wants something more than the other can give.”
Was he speaking from past experience, Livvy wondered, or cautioning her about the future? Unfortunately they had reached their rooms, so she had no time to question him.
“Knock when you are ready,” he told her, “and I will escort you downstairs.”
Though the question was still very much on Olivia’s mind, the marquess seemed disinclined to talk as they made their way to the drawing room, where her aunt and Charles were waiting for them.
“Shall we eat?” Lord Sheldon gestured at the others to get up.
“Well done, Jace!” Charles exclaimed, miming applause. “You’ve led Miss Weston right under the mistletoe, you sly dog. That’s a trick I shall have to remember.” He winked at Olivia.
Livvy looked up. Sure enough, she and the marquess were standing directly beneath a chandelier to which was tied a spray of evergreens. A nervous twitter escaped her.
“Don’t just stand there, Jason,” Aunt Kate chided. “It’s bad luck to disregard the mistletoe.”
Livvy closed her eyes.
This was it.
Her first kiss.
How long had she waited for just this moment?
Well, her entire life, not to put too fine a point on it.
She had always wanted her first kiss to mean something. She had wanted it to be special. And now she knew it would be. Jason Traherne had set her heart racing from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
No, before that actually.
Her heart had been aflutter from the instant she had realized what was contained in the scrap of paper she’d found in the library at Haile Castle so many months ago. But what woman would not be intrigued by a man who invented puzzles for his wife’s amusement? What woman could remain unmoved by a man who gave his wife jewelry engraved with romantic prose? She thought of the quote on the back of the brooch. “So we shall be one, and one another’s all.” That was a man who was deeply, irrevocably in love.
A man like that was the sort of hero books were written about. She hadn’t believed such a man truly existed. Oh, her parents were devoted to each other, and she knew her sister and her sister’s husband, James, had a Great Passion. It was obvious to everyone—well, everyone except them—how much they adored and needed each other.
Still, as much as she loved her brother- in-law, Livvy had to admit that James was a bit lacking in creativity. She had been the one to come up with a plan for James to woo Izzie back after he’d made a mess of things. Of course, he was a man, she had reminded herself, and thus was bound to need assistance when it came to romance.
The existence of Olivia’s niece indicated that James had the other side of things well in hand, which was fortunate, really, as Livvy knew she could be of very little help there. Izzie had once tried to show her a book of lurid engravings she had found somewhere in their brother’s room, but Livvy hadn’t paid much attention, as the subject hadn’t interested her at that age. A few years later, when the relations between men and women had become a matter of the utmost importance, the book was nowhere to be found. And her sister had become annoyingly vague and tight- lipped about important details once she was married.
Isabella had said that kissing in real life was even better than it was in novels. Now Livvy was finally, finally going to experience it. She would feel light- headed. Her knees would go weak. The world would narrow to the place where their mouths joined. He would grumble about—
No, that was not supposed to happen. He should not be grumbling. Dear heavens, the stupid man was going to ruin her perfect first kiss!
Her eyes flew open to tell him so, but his face was already descending on hers. He looked quite strange so close up; his eyes seemed to fuse into one giant eye in the middle of his head like a Cyclops. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the alarming sight, and then she felt his lips touch hers.
A brief pressure, warm and soft, which then turned into . . .
Nothing.
That was it.
Her first kiss was over.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry or to kick the man who had managed to mess up so simple a thing as a kiss under the mistletoe.
Then an awful thought struck her. Perhaps he hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe that kiss had been quite usual and there was something wrong with her for not liking it.
She opened her eyes as the marquess urged her forward. Her aunt and Charles were up and leading the way to the dining room. Such order went against the rules of precedence that had been trained into Olivia almost from birth, but no one else seemed to mind. So many strange things had happened to her since arriving at Arlyss, she accepted this deviation from the rules without comment.
But she didn’t like it. Her sister Isabella enjoyed flaunting convention and making up her own rules. Livvy preferred to follow the rules already in place. She thrived on order, on lists, on planning for every possible contingency. That kiss—that spectacular failure of a kiss—had not fit with her plans.
She was so altogether unsettled, Olivia only half listened to Charles and Aunt Kate’s discussion about proper presents to give on New Year’s Day. With a start, she realized they would be celebrating New Year’s Eve on the morrow. Suddenly, a hint of a plan began to form in her mind.
“Is it customary to exchange gifts here on New Year’s Day?” she interrupted.
“Oh, yes!” Her aunt launched into a description of what was indubitably yet another eccentric Welsh tradition.
Livvy paid her no mind. She had her answer, and she knew what she needed to do. Two days hence she would get the answers to the rest of her questions.
New Year’s Day/Dydd Calan
Jason looked up from the papers on his desk and scowled at the door to his study. Rather, he scowled at the person knocking on the other side of the door. Hadn’t he told Gower to keep everyone away?
His head felt like it had been stuffed with wool. He’d had a touch too much to drink the previous evening, but after a day spent in Miss Weston’s presence, his nerves had been stretched to
the breaking point. As he couldn’t seem to dull his senses against Miss Weston’s allure, he had decided his only choice was to ensure he drank so much as to be incapable of acting on his desire.
Damn Katherine. He had warned her that she was being lax in her duties as a chaperone, but she had laughed and said there was nothing but friendship between Charles and Olivia. Jason was not so certain, and since he couldn’t trust his stepmother not to leave them alone together, he had stuck close.
Close enough to drive him mad. He’d been without a woman for too long. ’Struth, it was the only acceptable answer.
The knocking grew more urgent.
With a curse, Jason pushed his chair back and moved to open the door. When he saw who was on the other side, he was tempted to shut it.
“Miss Weston, come in.” He tried to sound pleased to see her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She came into the room, her expression at once nervous and determined.
“Might I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course.” He gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. “Won’t you sit—”
She looked at the door, which he had left open for propriety, and shook her head. “May we speak in private?”
Jason knew closeting himself in the room with Miss Weston was a bad idea.
Worse than bad.
More like horrible, idiotic, and bound to get him into trouble.
And yet he found himself nodding and pushing the door shut.
He noticed she kept one arm slightly behind her.“What are you hiding back there?” he asked suspiciously.
“It is customary to exchange gifts today, is it not?”
“Ah, you mean calennig. I suppose Katherine taught you the rhyme as well. Do you wish to recite, or shall I just hand you some coins?”
She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.