“That is very kind of you.” He grinned. “I am rather fond of this coat…”
This time the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “And I’m rather fond of your hide.”
She felt her eyes widen in surprise at her own words as the heat of a flush washed over her cheeks. A part of her, a deep, wanton part that she’d never known existed before, prayed that he’d try to kiss her again. It longed for the touch of those soft-looking lips against hers.
Instead, his lips curled into a smile, and he took her hand and led her back to the house. She didn’t speak; she was too overcome by all the new sensations—the new desires—coursing through her.
The next few days went by in a flurry of activity. The gentlemen went hunting. The ladies visited with one another and with Lady Fenwicke, and Jessica was making good on her promise to truly befriend the lady, even to the extent that she visited Stratford House’s kitchen with her and managed not to shudder as Lady Fenwicke and the cook discussed the many uses of pig stomachs.
Max and Olivia had met to play tennis on four separate occasions when everyone else was otherwise occupied. Even after such a short time, Olivia had seen a marked improvement in her own skills and a more subtle improvement in Max’s. He was simply too large—too wide—to be able to scramble to a ball and flick it across the court. Olivia, although she was slight and not tall at all, was fast and nimble, and she prided herself on how quickly she’d learned.
They weren’t playing true sets; instead, they enjoyed their short tennis games and approached them as lessons, as Olivia was still learning the rules. Today, they’d been playing for almost an hour, and the score was forty-love with Olivia serving. Excitement fluttered through her—this was the closest she’d ever come to beating Max in a game—and if she won this point, it would be a sound defeat.
She tossed the ball into the air and served. The ball bounced on the penthouse and down into the corner of the court. Max lunged, but Olivia’s serve had been perfectly placed, making it awkward to hit, and the tip of his racquet only grazed the edge of the ball and sent it flying over the wall.
Olivia threw her racquet up into the air in a burst of joy. “I won!” she squealed, catching her racquet neatly. She couldn’t help herself—she beamed at him proudly.
Shaking his head but with his lips tilted in a smile, Max went to the table for a glass of lemonade, and drank heartily. She danced over to him. “Did you see that? I beat you for the first time ever!”
“You did indeed. One game out of sixteen today.” He handed her a glass of lemonade. “And here’s your reward.”
“Oh, you think you can remind me of my losses, do you?” She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
He merely cocked a brow at her.
“Well, I won’t let you spoil this victory for me.”
“Won’t you? How many times did I win a game at love, might I ask?” he said, all smugness.
“Why, Lord Hasley, I do think you’re embarrassed. You’re upset that you were beaten by a woman half your size.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his dark eyebrows lowering, the humor fading from his expression.
“No. That’s not it.”
She felt her own humor draining away. “What, then?” she asked, almost breathless.
“I’m surprisingly… delighted that you beat me.” The low serious tone of his voice sent skitters of pleasure down her spine.
“Did you allow me to win?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No. You won that game entirely fairly.”
“Good,” she murmured, accepting the return of that sweet sense of satisfaction.
“You’re a very quick learner,” he said sincerely. “I believe you possess more physical coordination than most women.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do. It’s too bad…” His voice dwindled, and he looked away.
“It’s too bad, what?” she asked, setting down her glass of lemonade.
“Never mind. I don’t wish to offend you.”
She stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
He sighed. “Very well. I was going to say, it’s too bad your family limits you so much. I’ve been watching since we last spoke, and you’re right—your sisters and Stratford are extremely protective when it comes to you. Overprotective. I think they’re attempting to squelch your innate sense of adventure.” He frowned. “They handle you like a porcelain doll. And while it’s true that you’re slighter and more slender than your sisters, I don’t see that you are any weaker than them, yet they treat you as if you are.”
She blinked at him. She didn’t know what to say. Her family was the most important thing in her life, and she wanted to defend them, but there was no denying their tendency to stifle her at times. Hence, her walks. Her desire to run at night. Her need to be alone at times.
“Am I right?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. Another woman—a wiser woman—would be more offended. She might lie to him and say he was a virtual stranger, he couldn’t know the first thing about how her family—herself, in particular—operated. But Olivia had always been a forthright kind of person. She never thought of dissembling… until it was too late, of course.
Yet, allowing this man to get too close to her—that would be unwise. Surely he must know that. Even without taking the malaria into account, she was the daughter of an obscure, impoverished Irishman, hardly fit to be paired with the heir to a powerful dukedom.
And yet… and yet here he was, behaving like a suitor might behave. Like a potential spouse might behave.
“Oh, Max,” she murmured, swallowing hard.
He tilted his head, questioning her with those startling eyes of his.
“We have become friends, haven’t we?” The word “friends” sounded silly on her lips. She’d never really had friends apart from her sisters, but she was fairly certain that a friend couldn’t make her feel the way Max made her feel.
“I hope so,” he said in a low voice.
“Can I tell you something, then? Something that will be very embarrassing for me to speak with you about, yet I feel we must speak of it.”
Max hesitated. She watched his chest rise and fall as he took a breath and set down his empty glass. “Come. Let’s walk.” He held out his hand, and she took it, nearly sighing aloud at the firm press of his fingers as they closed around hers.
They strolled into the woods, taking the path that led to the spring where they’d met. They walked slowly and without speaking. Beside Max, with his hand enclosing hers, Olivia felt even more vibrant and alive than she did on her solitary walks. Her senses were alert, every one of them abuzz. The sun shone brightly, causing the autumn forest to glow in deep and varying shades of gold and bronze. There were few sounds, but Olivia could discern between each one: a call of a jay, the stirring of the branches in the breeze, the crunch of dried leaves beneath their feet.
When they reached the spring, Max shrugged out of his coat and spread it across the large flat rock. They sat side by side, removed their gloves, and tossed pebbles into the water until he asked, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
She swallowed hard. There was nothing to do but to get straight to the point. She lowered her hands, still clutching a pebble she hadn’t thrown yet, and looked straight into his eyes. “I am concerned… I fear… you might misunderstand our… association.”
He just gazed at her, a deepening frown creasing his brows.
“Please understand, I have no intention of…” She took a breath and tried again. “My future has been laid out for me, you see. I intend to live out my life here, at Stratford House, close to Meg and Phoebe and their children. I will not marry.”
Still, he didn’t say anything.
“I… You see, I want to be the spinster aunt.”
When he didn’t immediately answer, she jerked her face away from him and looked down at her fist wrapped around the little pebble. She uncurled her finger
s and let it drop to the ground.
Finally, he spoke. “Do you think I was considering marriage?”
She went instantly hot all over. “No, of course not.” Biting her lip, she looked up and confessed, “Well, not today… but the way you’ve been… I… don’t know. If that was the direction of your thoughts, though… I just wanted you to know that I don’t foresee marriage—to anyone—in my future. So there is no point in courting me, or in me accepting the… er… advances… of any suitor.” She hesitated and then added a belated and breathy, “I’m sorry.”
His hand covered hers, his palm heavy and all-encompassing. It was the first time he’d touched her skin directly with his own, and the effect sucked the remaining air from her lungs.
“I had no intention of asking for your hand in marriage.”
Olivia went instantly stiff, humiliation threatening to choke her.
Glancing at her, he raked his free hand through his hair. “God, I’m sorry if that’s what I…” He hesitated, and his expression gentled as he leaned in closer to her. “Listen to me, Olivia. Thank you for being honest with me. You’re so special, so unlike any woman I’ve ever known, and you deserve my honesty in return. The truth is, I don’t intend to marry, either.”
“You don’t?” she murmured. Didn’t all dukes require wives and heirs?
“No.”
“Why?”
He flinched, a subtle withdrawal. “It’s very complicated.” His lips twisted. “I suppose it comes down to the fact that I’ve always known I’d make a very poor husband. I wouldn’t want to cause any woman unhappiness, so I’ve known for a long time that marriage wasn’t for me.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him, confused on many levels. “Then what—why are you—Why did it seem like you wanted to—?”
She stopped speaking abruptly as the truth slammed into her. She didn’t think she could get any hotter from embarrassment, but now she was certain she must be scarlet. She tore her gaze away from him again.
Suddenly, the pressure of his palm on hers took on a completely different meaning, and she yanked her hand out from under his like it had scorched her. She turned wide eyes on him. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to her, the concern deepening on his face. “What’s wrong—?”
She raised her hand to stop his words, then closed her eyes and bent her head forward with a groan, slapping her palm over her forehead. “I am so stupid.”
“Olivia—”
“I should have known that’s what you wanted from me.” She braced herself, removed her palm from her forehead, and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Max. I won’t… I thought you understood—I’m simply not the kind of woman who’s free with her… favors.”
The last word almost caught in her throat, and she coughed, even as her traitorous body rebelled against her words. She was flushed and needy. Whenever his skin touched hers, it relieved some of the ache while at the same time spreading the desire for more.
Max spoke softly. “I know that.”
“Do you? Are you certain? Because—” She hesitated, then gazed at him. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what this is…” She waved her hand between the two of them. “But… I can say with almost complete certainty that it is becoming a rather unusual friendship.”
“I’m very attracted to you, Olivia.”
His words made her body jolt backward. “What?”
Her voice came out in a squeak. There it was again—she sounded, and certainly looked, like a complete ninny.
“I’m attracted to you,” he repeated. “And I believe you’re attracted to me, too.”
Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t say she wasn’t attracted to him—that would be a lie. “Be that as it may,” she managed, “it doesn’t… I can’t…” She sucked in a breath. “I told you—I want to be the spinster aunt. By that, I don’t mean the disgraced spinster aunt.”
His green gaze narrowed. “Do you think that’s what I’d do? Disgrace you?”
No, he’d touch her all over with those big hands of his. He’d relieve her need, bring her pleasure…
Oh, Lord. The way she was beginning to think about Max was utterly scandalous and improper. She must not think of what he’d do to her. Goodness, her body was running hot one second then cold the next. She was completely out of her depth.
“I don’t know,” she said breathlessly. She shook her head. “This discussion is highly…” embarrassing, awkward, distressing, “… improper.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, but a smile teased at the corners of his lips. “You brought the subject up.”
“Because I felt it must be brought up before things went too far. I was feeling…” She searched desperately for the right word.
“… an attraction,” he finished for her.
She screwed her eyes shut. “Yes. An attraction.”
After a long silence, he murmured, “It doesn’t need to be like this.”
“Like what?” Her voice was a wisp of sound on the air.
“Upsetting.”
“What should it be like?”
Her hand was resting flat on the rock, and he lifted it in his own. When she didn’t move away, he turned it over and placed a soft kiss in her palm, his lips and fingers warm against her skin.
Olivia found the gentle touch so wildly erotic that she had to focus on her breathing—it was speeding up so quickly, the world was blurring.
“It should feel good,” he murmured against her palm. “Exciting.”
“It does,” she said on a near groan.
He lowered her hand and squeezed it between both of his own. “Don’t be afraid of me, Olivia. I will do nothing to you that you don’t want. And I would never, ever see you disgraced.”
God help her, she was tempted. So tempted. Every cell in her body demanded that she submit, that she say, Yes, Max. Take me. Do whatever it is with me that you please.
But she couldn’t. She had to protect herself, her family, her future.
“This can’t… we can’t. I want to be your friend, but I think we should try to stay apart for a while, until…” She stumbled over the words as her body screamed for one thing and her mind—a mind that had been trained for many years to believe it held a specific place in the world, and that place would never involve a man’s touch—screamed that this wasn’t right.
His fingers slipped away from hers, and his expression grew somber. “I’m a patient man, Olivia. I’ll give you the time you need. But understand that I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready, I’ll be right here. Waiting.”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. So she nodded, then rose to her feet.
He retrieved his coat, and quietly, they walked back to the house.
Chapter Four
Olivia gazed out the drawing room window as Jessica sat at the desk agonizing over the dinner plans she and Lady Fenwicke had made for them all this evening. Olivia had been working on her embroidery, keeping her sister company.
But she couldn’t focus on sewing. She couldn’t focus at all.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. For the past week, Max had left her alone, for the most part. They still played tennis. They still laughed together. They were friends.
It felt different, though. And if she were honest with herself, she missed his charged touches, those looks he’d given her that were infused with such meaning… such heat.
She missed him.
Her gaze wandered toward the window. Outside, the sun had descended over the treetops of the forest. The men had gone off to hunt late this morning, but they’d stayed out longer than usual.
She turned to Jessica. “I’m going for a walk.”
Jessica looked up from the scattered papers. “Oh, all right.” She scowled at the clock above the mantel. “Beatrice is already ten minutes late.”
“She’ll be here soon,” Olivia soothed.
“I know… I just…” Jessica shook her head. “I should hav
e asked her to come earlier. That way we wouldn’t have had to rush to prepare for this evening.”
“You’ll do wonderfully, Jess. I’m sure of it.”
Olivia finished tucking her embroidery into her basket. When she rose to leave and was brushing smooth the dark patterned length of her skirts, Jessica asked, “Will you join Phoebe and Meg, do you think?”
Their sisters had gone visiting tenants after luncheon. “Perhaps,” Olivia said noncommittally as she turned to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner. It’ll be spectacular! Don’t worry so much.” With those words of encouragement, Olivia went to her bedchamber to collect her bonnet, pelisse, and gloves, and then she slipped out the front door and into the crisp autumn air.
She walked for a long while, realizing that it had been days since she’d just come out to the forest and walked by herself. She’d been too caught up in all the activities of Jonathan’s house party.
It was pleasant to be alone again. To be far from society, from people. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Clouds had gathered, darkening the sky more than usual for this time of day.
She was just about to turn around to head back to the house when she heard the whicker of a horse, followed by the sound of plodding hoof beats, and her heart sped. She’d only half paid attention to following the trail, but she looked down now, and, yes, she could see clear imprints of horses’ hooves in the mud. The gentlemen had ridden in this direction earlier today, and now they were returning home.
She saw Jonathan’s horse first—a fine black gelding he adored. When he saw her, he reined in.
“Olivia!”
“Good afternoon, Jonathan. How was your hunting?” She smiled up at them, then greeted Captain Langley and Max, who were riding behind him.
“Excellent,” Jonathan said. “We were able to shoot a few grouse today. Even Max got one.”
She turned her smile on Max, who’d drawn up behind Captain Langley. “Well done!”
“What are you doing out here?” Jonathan asked. “Looks like it might rain.”
Secrets of an Accidental Duchess Page 6