by Julia London
“In Cornwall?” she asked coolly.
“Yes,” David said. “Naturally, we will send you with a maid. And a cook. There is a couple who lives at the Greystone House to tend to things.”
“But it is in Cornwall, David,” she said. “My life is here.”
“Yes, well . . .” He shifted in his saddle. “We need the dowager house for Mr. Eason. He is now the steward and he should be closest to me.”
Mr. Eason looked as if he would like to crawl under a rock. Olivia stepped up to David’s horse and put her hand on the steed’s neck. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are!” he said hastily. “Of course we are. We do regret the inconvenience, Olivia, but what are we to do?”
Yes, what was the family of a cruel and damaged man to do but cast aside his wife? “I suppose you are to exile me to Cornwall. My husband has been gone scarcely more than a fortnight and I’ve already been forced out of my surroundings.”
“And whose fault is that?” David asked. He looked uneasily at Mr. Eason, but found no help there.
“I’ll just ride up the path and have a look about, shall I?” Mr. Eason said, and spurred his horse on.
“Mr. Eason is prepared to bring his family to Everdon Court by the month’s end,” David said.
Olivia’s gaze narrowed. “I have a week?”
David shrugged. “If there was any other way . . .” he said.
“There are many other ways, David. But you would like me out of sight and I am powerless to stop you. So be it. You have delivered your verdict, so if you will excuse me . . .” She started to walk down the path.
“Olivia,” David said pleadingly.
Olivia twirled around, and continued walking backward. “Edward was a drunk, David! He was cruel and he was mad and forced his will on me! You know—you know what I endured! But I did not cuckold him!” She turned around and marched down the path.
She despised David. She despised all of the Careys. She despised that women had no voice and could be shoved about. She would be happy to leave Everdon Court, but she would not go to Cornwall. David and his family could send her to Hades for all she cared—she would not waste away on some windswept cliff.
London, perhaps. Or perhaps she would go to Spain and take a Spanish lover! France! What was a little war when one’s family turned against one?
Olivia was so angry, she’d marched all the way to the river before she realized it. She dropped her basket and her book, then collapsed onto her knees, glaring at the water rushing past.
When her breath had returned to normal, Olivia removed her cloak and spread it on the riverbanks. She looked in the basket, but she had no appetite, so she picked up the book and opened it, rereading the note Harrison had left her. She turned to the first page and began to read.
How long she read, Olivia didn’t know. At first she’d found her mind wandering, and was forced to reread passages. But the story that began to unfold before her was about a seventeen-year-old girl who was naïve and too trusting.
Ah, she knew that girl well.
When she tired of reading, she rolled onto her back and watched the clouds scudding across the afternoon sky. Maybe she could carve a life for herself. Maybe she could put Harrison and everything that had happened at Everdon Court behind her and forge her own path. Maybe she could spend many afternoons watching the clouds float by. There were worse lives.
Resolved, Olivia gathered her things and started back to the house. She picked up a stick and wacked at the top of some leggy weeds, then let the stick drop. When she neared the gate, she inadvertently dropped her book. She picked it up, dusted it off, and wiped a bit of mud from the book’s corner. Her hair had come loose, and she pushed a strand off her face, then looked up to the gate.
She dropped the basket and book again at the sight of Harrison standing there, his cloak billowing out on the afternoon breeze.
Something must have happened for him to be standing up on the hill as he was, staring down at her. Alexa. Had she lost the baby?
He started down the path, his stride long, and Olivia just stood there, paralyzed with uncertainty, her foolish heart beating like a little bird.
Harrison’s expression was stern, his determination evident in the strength of his stride. He stopped before her, his gaze sweeping over her, from the top of her hair to the tips of her muddied boots.
Olivia couldn’t find her tongue.
Something changed in Harrison’s eyes; she saw a spark of light as he casually reached up and pushed her bonnet off her head, and with his thumb, wiped her cheek. He held it up to her. Mud.
“Where is Alexa?” Olivia asked breathlessly.
“At Ashwood. Hiding, I should think.”
“Hiding? You left your wife hiding at Ashwood?”
“My wife?” He grinned. “No, Olivia. Not my wife.”
“But we had a letter—”
“And I rather imagine you will have another shortly. We did not marry. That foolish girl refused me at the altar.”
Olivia gasped. She should have been indignant, but the only sound she could make was mad laughter. They were not married! The wave of joy washing over her was strong enough to carry her off, and she would have gladly gone along with it.
They were not married!
“The baby,” she said.
Harrison traced his hand across her cheek, his fingers sliding under her jaw. “Alexa is happy that her child will have an aunt and uncle who love him. I think it is time that you stopped minding your sister. She is a grown woman, and she is ready to make her own decisions and face her own consequences. She knows what she is about, and she is at peace with it. Now you must be, as well.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
He smiled. “Olivia, neither of us needs to pretend any longer. It’s over. There is nothing left but us. I want you to come to Ashwood with me. Your sister and her child will always have a place there.”
Ashwood. It sounded like heaven to her. “The Careys will ruin your career.”
He shrugged. “I have inherited an entire estate, and with a few changes it will be quite profitable.”
“Our reputations will not allow us into society.”
“We’ll have each other.”
“Yes,” she said, and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, we will have each other! I love you, Harrison. You cannot know how I have despaired these last few days. I should never have sent you away. I should never—”
“Hush,” he whispered. “There are so many things both of us should never have done, but they are all behind us now. I love you, Olivia. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will always love you. I will never again allow you away from my side. We have new lives ahead of us. Come and gather your things. We are leaving Everdon Court.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Mrs. Lampley looked stricken when Harrison and Olivia walked in together through the back entrance.
“Mr. Tolly!” she cried. “You’ve come back!”
“Only for a night, Mrs. Lampley.”
“But Mr. Eason is here. Oh dear, where are my manners? Felicitations on your nuptials, sir.”
“Thank you, but that is not necessary. Who is Mr. Eason?” Harrison asked.
Olivia laughed. “The new steward.”
“He’s here, walking about, having a look at the place,” Mrs. Lampley whispered, seeming distressed. “Says he has a wife and four children. Four!”
Harrison grinned. “I have full confidence that you will meet the challenge, Mrs. Lampley,” he said. “I think I’ll go and have a good look at the chap.”
“But . . .” Mrs. Lampley turned to Olivia. “But where is Mrs. Tolly?”
“Oh, there is no Mrs. Tolly,” Olivia said brightly. “However, I intend to remedy that straightaway. And by the bye, Mrs. Lampley, I shall be leaving Everdon Court.”
“Leaving! Where will you go?”
Olivia grinned. “With Mr. Tolly to Ashwood. To b
ecome Mrs. Tolly. Alexa has decided she’d rather not.”
She was still laughing as she ran up the stairs to her rooms, wondering if any widow had ever dared to wed as soon as she intended to.
Mr. Eason was in the study, bent over, pulling open the drawers of the desk.
“You’ll find nothing there,” Harrison said as he strolled in.
Mr. Eason jerked upright. “I beg your pardon.”
“Harrison Tolly,” Harrison said, and extended his hand, smiling at the man’s look of shock.
“I don’t understand,” Mr. Eason said as he took Harrison’s hand.
“I have returned for something I mistakenly left behind. And a few books.” He walked to the little table where he had stacked the books for Olivia and picked them up. “I wish you the best of luck with Lord Carey, Mr. Eason. He hasn’t the capacity for figures that his late brother did. And he enjoys spending freely. The late marquis was rather good at reining him in, but I cannot guess who might rein him in now.” He smiled. “If you do not find someone who can reason with him, the Carey family fortune likely will be depleted within a year.” It was hardly true, but Harrison couldn’t help himself. “Good luck to you, sir,” he said, and walked out, leaving a gaping Mr. Eason behind.
He took the stairs two at a time and went directly to the suite where Olivia had settled. She was inside, busily gathering her things; she hadn’t even removed her cloak.
Harrison walked inside and put the books on her vanity. Olivia beamed at him. He’d not seen her look so happy in years. “Will you not remove your cloak?” he asked.
“No. I want to be ready to leave without a moment’s hesitation.”
He chuckled, and pushed the door shut. “You have my word that we will be gone by the morrow’s first light. But I think there is something that requires our immediate attention,” he said, turning the key in the lock.
Her smile brightened even more. “Immediate! It must be very important.”
“Very,” he said.
“Well then.” She unfastened her cloak and let it drop.
Harrison smiled and reached for her. He’d ridden like a wild man from Ashwood, frantic to see her, to hold her. He would be forever grateful to Alexa for ending the madness that he had begun that day in the marquis’s study, and for urging him to go and fetch Olivia before it was too late. “They’ll not keep her at Everdon Court,” Alexa had argued the night of their failed wedding ceremony. “Lord Westhorpe will want his freedom and no reminder of Edward.”
For a young woman who was very naïve about some things, Alexa was very wise about others.
“You are so beautiful,” Harrison said to Olivia now. He kissed her lips. “And I shall make you mine, Olivia. Only mine.”
“Is that a promise?” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I have been waiting an awfully long time for it.”
That wish detonated something deep inside Harrison. He needed to feel her body beneath his. He needed to end the wait, to know that their lives were about to change in a way they had both dreamed of for so many years. He drew her into him, holding her tightly as he kissed her.
Olivia smiled alluringly as she pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall down her back.
Harrison raked his hand through the silken hair he had admired from afar, lifting it to his face and breathing it in. Her grip tightened around his waist as she kissed him, her tongue seeking his. He moved her back, bumping up against the bed, his mouth on her neck now, his fingers on her bosom, curling into her cleavage, the scent of her perfume filling his senses.
His hands sought every curve, his mouth, every patch of skin. Olivia closed her eyes and dropped her head back, her sigh of longing making Harrison’s blood rush and swell. He yanked off his neckcloth; Olivia’s fingers flew down the buttons of his waistcoat and pushed it aside. Her hands ran across his chest, down to his waist, and pulled the shirt from his trousers.
He shrugged out of the waistcoat and hastily pulled the shirt over his head.
Olivia ran her fingertips down his chest, then leaned in and kissed where his heart was pounding in his chest. Her fingers fluttered over his nipples, and the slight indentation between the muscles that ran from his sternum and disappeared into the top of his trousers.
Harrison clenched his jaw, restraining himself as she explored him. But when she brushed the palm of her hand against the erection that strained against his buckskins, he said roughly, “I cannot bear to be near you any longer without possessing you.” He felt almost feverish with the desire blazing in him. “I cannot bear it,” he said again, then sank onto the bed with her.
Olivia giggled at his ardor, her hands everywhere, boldly exploring, caressing, and stroking. When her tongue flicked across his nipple, he groaned and found the buttons on her gown, then pushed it down her body. He released her breasts, caressed them, took them each in his mouth in turn, sucking the hardened peaks onto his tongue.
Olivia’s hand surrounded his erection and moved on him, sparking a fire in him that quickly roared out of control. She pushed him onto his back and began to trail kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, and below. When her lips surrounded his member, Harrison was lost.
She traced her tongue along the length of him, and Harrison gasped as he tried to keep from writhing and bucking beneath her. But it was no use; his self-control was hanging by a thread. She was pushing him beyond the limits of yearning. As madly pleasurable as it was, he needed to be inside her. He groped blindly for her, lifting her up to him and encircling her tightly in his arms. Her lips softly met his as he rolled her onto her back.
He moved over her, pushing her skirts up above her hips, then he slipped his hand between her legs. She was hot and slick, and her deep moan against his mouth came close to undoing him completely. His fingers slipped inside her heat; his thumb stroked her mindlessly until she made a little cry and shifted against him.
He moved between her thighs, nudging them farther apart with his knee. “I am at the end of my endurance, Olivia. I need you. I have needed you all my life.” He slid into her and began to move. Olivia kissed him, lifting up to him, lifting her legs to his waist, drawing him in until he was moving deep inside her, his heart growing larger with each stroke, claiming her as his own in the most primal way a man could claim a woman. She moaned with pleasure, her body tightening around his, and then cried out as she shuddered and contracted around him.
Her climax drew Harrison’s, and with a strangled sob of ecstasy, he released into her.
As he gasped for breath, he felt awed by what had happened between them. He was moved beyond comprehension. How could he have contemplated being without her for even a moment?
He tenderly gathered Olivia into his arms and rolled to his side. She nuzzled her face in his neck. They were covered with a sheen of perspiration, and they lay there until the heat had ebbed from their skin.
Still, Harrison did not let her go. He’d never felt so alive, had never felt anything so deeply. He knew that this was where he was meant to be, that this was where he was accepted. This was the rest of his life.
“Olivia,” he murmured.
“Hmmm?” She sounded like a purring kitten, with a smile of satisfaction on her face to match.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured against her temple.
“I’m already there,” she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Rue was cleaning Alexa’s room. She was forever cleaning Alexa’s room, for her ability to tidy up was marred by her inattention to things that needed to be tidied. At present she was fussing with the sash on the drapes, and had stepped in front of the window, blocking the light.
Seated on a chaise, Alexa sighed irritably. “Rue, must you?”
“Yes, miss. You told me I must,” Rue said.
“I told you that you must tidy up the room, not the sash. And must you stand before the window? I should like to feel the sun on my face.”
“Oh, but you can’t feel the sun when you are in the house. T
he sun is outside.”
“Is it?” Alexa drawled, and stood up. “Then perhaps I shall go out to where the sun is, as you insist on blocking it.”
“No, miss, it’s not me,” Rue said. “It’s the house that blocks it.”
Alexa groaned and picked up her shawl—her spencer would no longer fit across her breasts—and wrapped it tightly around her. “You should keep to sewing, Rue,” she said, and paused to look at the infant gowns Rue had made that she’d lain out on her bed to admire. They were surprisingly beautiful. Alexa had discovered Rue’s extraordinary talent as a seamstress when she’d altered the yellow gown. “Your skill is far superior to your housekeeping abilities.”
Rue smiled proudly.
Alexa made her way downstairs, her hand on the banister, her fingers feeling the curving vines and leaves carved into the railing.
Louis, the footman with the kind smile, opened the front door for her. “Good afternoon, Miss Hastings.”
“Good afternoon, Louis.” She wondered if he or Linford or Mrs. Thorpe, the housekeeper, had noticed her increasing girth. How could they not? She felt as if she were bursting through everything she owned. But if they were offended, none showed it. They’d all been very kind to her, even after the disaster of the wedding.
Alexa stepped out onto the steps leading down to the drive. She heard riders approaching and glanced at the road coming into the drive. She wasn’t surprised to see Harry and Olivia riding toward the house, but she was surprised at how well her sister could ride.
It was something else about her remarkable sister she hadn’t noticed.
They rode into the circular drive and reined up. Olivia practically threw herself from her horse and strode across the gravel drive to Alexa. She wasn’t wearing mourning clothes; she was dressed in a riding habit. She jogged up the steps. She didn’t speak. She stared at Alexa, and before Alexa knew what was happening, Olivia threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, darling,” she said. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Alexa felt a swell of relief and joy. “I knew I was right,” she cried. “You do love him!”