by Amanda Quick
Jared closed the door behind himself and walked to the desk. “Mrs. Bird told me that he had arrived.”
Pettigrew’s gaze was fixed on the black velvet patch that covered Jared’s eye. Then he scowled at Jared’s bare throat and the open collar of his shirt. “Damme, man, you don’t look like any tutor I ever saw. What is going on here?”
Olympia was irritated. “Mr. Chillhurst most certainly is a tutor. A very excellent one. Uncle Artemis sent him to me.”
“Wingfield sent him?” Pettigrew shot her an annoyed look. “Are you quite certain?”
“Yes, of course, I’m certain.” Olympia strove for patience. “And as it happens, Mr. Chillhurst is skilled in financial matters. He has offered to act as my man of affairs. That is why I shall no longer be requiring your assistance in disposing of my uncle’s shipment, sir.”
“Your man of affairs.” Pettigrew was dumbfounded. “Now see here, you don’t need a man of affairs. You’ve got me to look after your finances and such.”
Jared sat down. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. “You heard Miss Wingfield, Pettigrew. She will no longer be requiring your services.”
Pettigrew shot him a scathing glance and turned back to Olympia. “Miss Wingfield, I have warned you often of the dangers of dealing with persons whose backgrounds you know nothing about.”
“Mr. Chillhurst is a perfectly respectable person,” Olympia said firmly. “My uncle would not have employed him to work in this household if he were not a man of excellent character.”
Pettigrew gave Jared a disparaging look. “Have you reviewed his references, Miss Wingfield?”
“My uncle took care of that sort of thing,” Olympia said.
Jared smiled coldly at Pettigrew. “I assure you, sir, there is no cause for concern. I shall see to it that Miss Wingfield realizes a fair profit off the goods her uncle sent to her.”
“And who’s to say what that fair profit is?” Pettigrew retorted. “Miss Wingfield will have no way of knowing if you take advantage of her, will she? She will have to depend upon your word in the matter.”
“Just as she has been forced to rely upon your word in the past,” Jared said softly.
Pettigrew drew himself up. “Are you implying anything, sir? Because if so, let me inform you that I will not tolerate it.”
“Not at all.” Jared tapped his fingertips together in a slow, silent drumroll. “Miss Wingfield tells me that she realized nearly two hundred pounds off the last shipment.”
“That is quite correct,” Pettigrew said stiffly. “And she was extremely lucky to get that much out of it. Why, if it had not been for my contacts in London, she would probably have received no more than a mere hundred or hundred and fifty pounds.”
Jared inclined his head. “It will be interesting to see if I can do as well on her behalf as you have done, will it not? Perhaps I shall even be able to improve upon your efforts.”
“I say,” Pettigrew sputtered indignantly. “I don’t care for your attitude, sir.”
“Your opinion of me is neither here nor there, is it?” Jared observed mildly. “But I assure you that I will pay close attention to Miss Wingfield’s financial affairs. After all, she needs the money, does she not? A single woman burdened with the responsibility of three young boys can certainly use all the income she can get.”
Pettigrew’s heavy face turned an unpleasant shade of red. “Now see here, sir, I cannot allow you to take possession of Miss Wingfield’s goods without so much as a by-your-leave. You might very well up and disappear with them for all we know.”
“The goods have already disappeared, so to speak,” Olympia said. “Mr. Chillhurst had them sent off to London this very morning.”
Pettigrew’s eyes widened in astonished fury. “Miss Wingfield, surely you have not done anything so rash as to allow this man to whisk your goods out of Upper Tudway.”
Jared continued to tap his fingertips together. “They are safe enough, Pettigrew. They were dispatched under guard. A trusted acquaintance of mine will receive them when they reach London and see to their disposal.”
“Good God, man.” Pettigrew rounded on him. “What have you done? This is outright thievery. I shall inform the magistrate at once.”
Olympia jumped to her feet. “That is quite enough. Mr. Pettigrew, I am satisfied that Mr. Chillhurst has only my best interests at heart. I really do not wish to be rude, sir, but I must insist that you cease prattling on in such an insulting fashion. Mr. Chillhurst might take offense.”
“Yes.” Jared drummed his fingertips together and looked as if he were contemplating the possibility. “I might.”
Pettigrew’s mouth worked for a moment but no words came out. Then he heaved himself up out of the chair and glowered at Olympia. “So be it, Miss Wingfield. If you choose to put your trust in a stranger rather than in a neighbor you have known for years, that is your affair. But I expect that you will regret this reckless piece of work. Your new tutor looks altogether too much like a bloody pirate to me and that’s a fact.”
Olympia was outraged. Jared was, after all, in her employ. It was up to her to defend him. “Really, Mr. Pettigrew, you go too far. I cannot allow you to speak in such a fashion to anyone on my staff. Good day to you, sir.”
“Good day, Miss Wingfield.” Pettigrew stalked to the door. “I only hope you have not lost a packet by trusting this … this person.”
Olympia watched the door until it closed behind Pettigrew. Then she risked a quick, awkward glance at Jared. She was relieved to see that he had stopped tapping his fingers together. She suspected that the mannerism did not bode well.
“I apologize for that unfortunate little scene,” Olympia said. “Pettigrew means well, but I believe he was somewhat insulted by the fact that I have turned my uncle’s shipment over to you to handle.”
“He called me a pirate.”
Olympia cleared her throat delicately. “Yes, but please do not take offense. He is not entirely to blame for making such a remark. Indeed, Mrs. Bird commented upon the resemblance earlier. There is something about you, sir, that does tend to put one in mind of a pirate.”
Jared’s mouth curved. “I am glad that you are able to look beneath the surface, Miss Wingfield.”
“Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida taught me not to judge by appearances.”
An enigmatic expression lit Jared’s gaze. “I hope you will not be disappointed by the man you discover beneath the pirate’s face.”
“Oh, no,” Olympia whispered. “I could not possibly be disappointed, sir.”
The following evening Olympia sat at her desk and contemplated Jared’s hair. The heavy, midnight black stuff was brushed back behind his ears and reached his collar. There was no question but that the style was unfashionable and that it contributed to Jared’s rather savage appearance. But Olympia did not care. All she wanted to do was run her fingers through it.
Never in her life had she wanted to run her fingers through a man’s hair.
Jared was sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, his booted feet stretched out in front of him. He was reading a book that he had selected from a nearby shelf.
The glow from the hearth etched his already stern features into even harsher lines. He had discarded his coat after dinner. Olympia had grown accustomed to the lack of a cravat but she found it almost overwhelming to be in the same room with Jared when he was in his shirtsleeves.
The disturbing sense of intimacy made her feel lightheaded. Whispering shivers of awareness coursed through her. She could not help but wonder if Jared was feeling anything at all other than tired after a long day.
It was nearly midnight but he still showed no signs of taking his leave. Mrs. Bird had retreated to her room after dinner. Ethan, Hugh, and Robert had gone to bed hours ago. Minotaur had been banished to the kitchen.
Olympia was alone with Jared and she was consumed with a strange, unfamiliar restlessness. The feelings had been increasing in intensity every
night since Jared’s arrival. As far as she could tell, he was not uncomfortable at all with these intimate evenings together in the library.
Olympia had a sudden urge to talk to him. She hesitated and then closed the Lightbourne diary with a loud snap.
Jared looked up from his book and smiled quizzically. “Making progress, Miss Wingfield?”
“I believe so,” Olympia said. “Most of the entries are quite prosaic. On the surface, it’s merely a journal of daily events. It appears to cover the period of Miss Lightbourne’s engagement and the first few months of her marriage to a man named Mr. Ryder.”
Jared’s gaze was enigmatic. “Mr. Ryder?”
“She seems very happy with him.” Olympia smiled wistfully. “She calls him her ‘beloved Mr. Ryder.’”
“I see.”
“In fact, that’s the only way in which she refers to him, even though he’s her husband. Rather odd, but there you have it. She must have been a very proper sort of lady.”
“So it would seem.” There was an odd note in Jared’s voice. He sounded almost relieved.
“As I said, for the most part the journal appears quite ordinary, except for the fact that it is written in a combination of English, Latin, and Greek. But every few pages I come across an odd series of numbers mixed in with a phrase that seems to make little sense. I believe those numbers and words are the clues for which I am searching.”
“It sounds rather complicated but I suppose that is the way with codes.”
“Yes.” Olympia detected the lack of interest in his tone. She knew she should change the subject.
She was beginning to realize that, for some reason, the mystery of the Lightbourne diary held no intellectual appeal for Jared. In fact, he appeared to be positively bored by it. She was rather disappointed because she would have liked very much to discuss her discoveries with him.
Still, she could hardly complain if he wished to avoid that one topic, Olympia thought. Jared was, after all, more than happy to converse about virtually any other matter.
“You are at ease with Latin and Greek?” Jared asked casually.
“Oh, yes,” Olympia assured him. “Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida instructed me in both.”
“You miss your aunts, do you not?”
“Very much. Aunt Ida died three years ago. Aunt Sophy followed her within six months. They were the only real family I had until my nephews arrived.”
“You have been alone for some time.”
“Yes.” Olympia hesitated. “One of the things I miss most is the conversations we were all accustomed to share in the evenings. Do you know what it is like to have no one about with whom you can converse, Mr. Chillhurst?”
“Yes, Miss Wingfield,” he said quietly. “I understand very well. I have felt the lack of such a close companion most of my life.”
Olympia met his steady gaze and knew that he was giving her a small peek into his very soul. Fair enough, she thought. She had just given him a glimpse of her own. Her hand shook as she took a sip of her brandy.
“No one here in Upper Tudway is interested in the customs and legends of other lands,” Olympia confided. “Not even Mr. Draycott it seems, although for a while I had hoped … ” Her voice trailed off.
Jared’s hand tightened around his glass. “Draycott is not interested in such matters, Miss Wingfield, but I am.”
“I sensed that you were, sir. You are truly a man of the world.” Olympia gazed down into her brandy and then raised her head to look at him again. “Last night you mentioned that you had heard about some rather unusual customs practiced by peoples of a certain South Seas island.”
“Ah, yes.” Jared closed his book and gazed into the fire. “Very interesting courtship customs among the islanders.”
“You promised to go into greater detail this evening, if you will recall,” Olympia prompted.
“Certainly.” Jared took a sip of his brandy and assumed a contemplative expression. “Apparently it is the habit among the islanders for the prospective suitor to take his lady to a place in the jungle that is considered to be magical. I’m told it’s a lagoon where a large waterfall cascades down a wall of rock.”
“I see. It sounds very lovely.” Olympia took another sip of her brandy. “What happens next?”
“If the lady wishes to be courted she allows the man to kiss her beneath the waterfall.” Jared turned the glass in his hands. “He gives her a token of his affections to signify his love. Legend has it that any union which begins in such a fashion will prove harmonious and fruitful.”
“How interesting.” Olympia wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Jared. He looked so lean and strong and powerful sitting here with her. He could doubtless pick her up with just one hand, she thought.
She wondered what it would feel like to have Jared lift her right up off her feet.
And hold her against his chest.
And cover her mouth with his own.
Appalled at the direction of her thoughts, Olympia gave a start and fumbled with her glass. Brandy splashed on the desk.
“Are you all right, Miss Wingfield?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Olympia hurriedly righted the glass and set it down. Mortified by her own clumsiness, she dabbed at the spilled brandy with a handkerchief and cast about wildly for something intellectual to say.
“Speaking of interesting tokens of affection in the South Seas.” Olympia concentrated on wiping up the last of the brandy. “I, myself, have recently read about a very unusual practice carried on in that part of the world.”
“Have you, Miss Wingfield?”
“It seems that among the inhabitants of one of the islands it is the custom for the groom to present his bride with a large golden object in the shape of a phallus.”
There was a deep silence from the other side of the room. Olympia glanced up, wondering if Jared had failed to hear her. A strange sensation went through her when she saw the disturbing expression on his face.
“A golden phallus?” Jared asked.
“Why, yes.” Olympia dropped the brandy-soaked handkerchief onto the desk. “A very odd custom, wouldn’t you say, sir? What do you suppose one does with a large golden phallus?”
“I cannot say offhand, but I suspect there is a very interesting answer to that question.”
“No doubt.” Olympia sighed. “But I shall probably never learn the answer because I shall likely never travel to the South Seas.”
Jared put down his brandy glass and got to his feet. “As you have pointed out to me, Miss Wingfield, one does not have to travel widely in order to gain experience of the world.”
“True enough.” She watched him as he walked deliberately toward her. “is there something the matter, Mr. Chillhurst?”
“Yes.” He walked around her desk, reached down, and lifted Olympia straight up out of the chair. “There is something I wish to learn tonight, Miss Wingfield, and only you know the answer.”
“Mr. Chillhurst.” Olympia could hardly breathe. Excitement flashed through her. She felt as though she were about to melt. “What is your question, sir?”
“Will you kiss me, Miss Wingfield?”
Olympia was so shaken she could not find the words to respond. She did the only thing she could. She put her arms around Jared’s neck and lifted her mouth to his in silent invitation.
She knew with sudden and absolute certainty that she had been waiting all of her life for this moment.
“Siren.” Jared’s arms closed very tightly around her as he crushed her lips beneath his own.
Chapter 4
Fire—a current of wild, scorching flame—cascaded through Olympia. She was at once stunned and exhilarated.
Jared’s mouth was hot, persuasive, and demanding. He coaxed and conquered, cajoled and stole. Olympia trembled with reaction as his lips moved on hers.
She could feel the heat of his body and the strength of his hands. He was overwhelming her senses, but she felt no fear, only a boundless, thrilling deligh
t. She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck and held on for dear life as he plunged her into a sea of sensation.
Jared groaned when she opened her mouth under his in response to his gentle insistence.
“I cannot wait to hear your song, my sweet siren,” he muttered against her lips and then he was inside.
The feel of his tongue touching hers startled Olympia. Instinctively she tried to retreat.
“Not yet,” Jared whispered. “I want to taste you.”
Olympia was captivated by the words. “Taste me?”
“Like this.” Jared took her mouth again, savoring her with great thoroughness. “And this. My God, you are more intoxicating than the finest brandy.”
Olympia’s head fell back and her eyes closed. With joyous delight, she abandoned herself to the experience of being kissed by Jared.
She felt his arms shift, sliding under her knees and around her shoulders. She drew in a quick, startled breath when he lifted her and carried her across the room.
Olympia opened her eyes and looked up at Jared as he settled her onto the velvet cushions of the sofa. She saw the enthralling hunger in his stark expression and felt something deep inside her respond. She had never felt more gloriously alive.
“This is all very strange.” She touched the side of his face with a sense of deep wonder. “I feel as if I have begun a mysterious voyage to an unknown land.”
“It is the same for me.” Jared’s smile was slow and achingly sensual. He went down on one knee beside the sofa. “We shall make this journey together, my lovely siren.”
Bereft of words, Olympia caught hold of his hand and drew it to her lips. She kissed his palm with a sense of blossoming joy.
“My God, you do not know what you are doing to me.” Jared put his other hand on her throat and slowly, deliberately drew his fingers downward until his palm rested on her breast.