by Sara Bennett
Domesticated Nic? The idea made him uncomfortable, but he forced himself to stop and look at it. He smiled wryly. Could Wicked Nic really live a life of cozy nights dining in and cozy mornings making love to his wife? Or watching her tending to their child? No, children, he corrected himself. He’d been an only child, and he was strongly of the opinion that he’d have done much better with at least one brother or sister.
He’d sworn never to marry. Was he changing his mind? After one night? It was ridiculous, insane, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The rake wasn’t tamed, no never that, but maybe, just maybe, he had met his match.
There was a soft knock on his door. Before he could tell whoever it was to go to the devil, it opened, and Abbot stepped inside.
“My lord?” he said quietly. “I was just…” His voice trailed off.
Nic saw him peer toward the bed, and something in the stiffness of his bearing told him that his manservant knew very well who it was sleeping beside him. A wave of guilt washed over Nic as he remembered his assurances that no harm would come to Olivia, but almost immediately he replaced it with anger.
He’d damned if he’d be dictated to by a servant!
Nic sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Abbot took a step back—perhaps he was planning to run for it—but Nic stopped him with a single word.
“Stay.”
He pulled on his trousers, leaving his chest bare, and reached for the half-full glass as he passed, drinking the brandy down in one gulp. His leg ached, twinging with every step, but he ignored it, just as he’d been ignoring it for the past nine years. He shoved Abbot outside the door into the corridor, closing it securely behind them.
Abbot didn’t even draw breath.
“You swore to me you would return Miss Monteith to her home. I would never have—” His voice was low and harsh, as if he was having trouble keeping the emotion from it, and his face was even more creased than usual.
“What time is it?” Nic interrupted.
With difficulty Abbot swallowed down his ire. “Nearly time for luncheon.”
“Hmm. Better wait until nightfall then, before you take her home. Bring some food up, Abbot. I’m famished.”
“Lord Lacey.” Abbot took a deep breath. “My lord, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situa—”
“You think not?” Nic mocked. “Let me see. I’ve seduced a woman of impeccable breeding and respectable family, and ruined her utterly.”
Abbot was struggling to hold his tongue.
“Actually, I think I’ve done her a favor, Abbot. At least she’ll have something to remember when she marries that bore Theodore.”
He sounded cruel. He was angry and disturbed and he hardly knew what he was saying. He didn’t want Abbot’s disapproval, he didn’t need it. He knew what he’d done.
“I cannot begin to imagine what repercussions this will—”
“What if I marry her?”
Abbot stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, then made a snorting noise and turned down the corridor, his back stiff as a poker.
Nic gave an impatient sigh and went after him. “Abbot, wait,” he began, but when his manservant turned troubled gray eyes on him, he hardly knew what he was going to say. “I never intended it to happen,” he said, rubbing a hand over his own eyes, feeling weary and depressed. “I tried very hard not to let it happen.”
“She’s a respectable young lady. You always said you would never make it your business to—to consort with respectable young ladies. Not after—”
“I did say that, and I meant it.”
Abbot considered him in silence. “If we can get her away tonight with no one the wiser then all will be well, my lord.”
“Will it, Abbot? You don’t think I need to go down on my knees then and pop the question?” He laughed, but it had an odd forced sound.
“Not unless you want to,” Abbot said, with a lift of an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you want to marry Miss Monteith?” he added, for good measure.
“No! Yes…Blast it, how should I know?” Nic turned away. “Fetch us something to eat and drink, man.”
He could feel Abbot’s eyes on him, boring a disapproving hole into his back. The manservant hadn’t believed him when he said he’d marry Olivia. He thought it was a stupid idea. Before now Nic had thought it a stupid idea, too. Had he really changed his mind?
Nic slipped back inside the bedchamber. Olivia was still sleeping, her yellow hair a bright splash on the pillows, and Nic stood a moment, watching her. He let himself imagine what it would be like if she were here every day of his life, just for a single, brief moment, and then he shut his mind down.
Olivia stretched and opened her eyes. She could smell food, delicious food. She rolled over and saw that someone had brought a banquet. There were steaming dishes, bowls of fruit, champagne sitting in ice, and a delicious-looking cake decorated with cream and strawberries.
“Oh,” she groaned.
Nic chuckled. He was standing by the window, bare-chested, his trousers low about his hips, his hair tousled, with the light slanting across his face.
“Nic, I am so hungry…”
She climbed from the bed, peering into the dishes and under the plate warmers, dipping her finger into a bowl of syllabub, and plucking one of the strawberries from the cake.
“What will we have first?” she said, glancing up at him as he came to join her.
“Whatever you want.”
It felt decadent, exciting, and all the other things she’d been longing to bring into her life.
Nic began to load a plate. They ended up sprawled on the bed, eating and drinking. Afterward they made love, slowly and thoroughly, and went back to sleep in each other’s arms. Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive, her mind and body humming, and it was like a dash of cold water when it ended.
There were more respectable clothes to change into, and she left the black velvet and silk dress lying forlorn on the bed. Nic left her alone to wash and dress, and she was just finishing pinning up her hair when he returned with her cloak.
“You have to go,” Nic said, drawing the warm garment about her. “Abbot has arranged everything.”
“Of course,” she agreed, while in her heart Olivia wanted to stay forever. “When will I see you again?”
He avoided her eyes. “Who can say?”
She’d wanted him to say, Come again soon, or better still, I can’t live without you, but it was clear to her now he would say neither. She had won the battle but the war still hung in the balance, and as she stood before him she wondered whether she’d ever bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.
He pulled her hood up over her hair and bent to kiss her lips, gently and without passion, and she sensed him withdrawing from her. Was that what he did with all those other women, once the liaison was over? Remove himself emotionally as well as physically, as if they’d never existed as a couple?
Olivia told herself, a little desperately, that it wasn’t going to happen with her. If necessary she’d camp on his front steps.
“Come on,” he said, moving to the door. “Abbot will meet us at the coach. He believes in punctuality.”
In no time, they were outside and following the winding path that led through the shrubbery.
“Where are we going?” she asked him, feeling the dew-damp grass soaking through her thin slippers. “I thought there was a coach waiting.”
“There is. Abbot arranged for it to collect you some way along the road beyond the village. If we cut across the garden and the park, then beside the gatehouse, we will be able to reach it without being seen.”
“Abbot has gone to a great deal of trouble.”
“Yes. The coach,” he explained, “was even hired under a false name. If he is asked, the driver is under instructions to say he has driven you from London and your friend’s house. Abbot is doing his best to protect your reputation, Olivia.”
“Yes, I see Abbot is ve
ry thorough. Perhaps he’s had a great deal of practice?” she suggested evenly, casting him a sideways glance.
“Perhaps he has,” Nic said dryly, “and he never fails to let me know he disapproves of the necessity. Sometimes he’s like an old nursery maid.”
Olivia drew her skirts aside to avoid catching them on a hedge. “He thinks you could do better with your life. He knows that you are a good man, Nic, just as I do.”
He turned to look at her, and even in the darkness she thought she saw pity in his eyes. “Olivia, you don’t know me.”
Olivia gave a smile. “But I do know you.”
“If I was like Theodore Garsed, with nothing to talk about but my last meal, would you be here with me now?” he mocked. “I don’t think so. My reputation makes me interesting, Olivia. The half-whispered secrets and the shocking gossip. I know what they say. If I became just another ordinary man no one would give me a second glance.”
Olivia laughed, but stopped when she realized he was being serious. She shook her head at him. “Oh Nic, that’s not true. Whatever you did, whatever you were, you would never be ordinary.”
They walked in silence, entering the park, and making their way along the edge of the long driveway. After a time they crossed to the other side, following a path through the thickening trees, as the park turned into a wood. Olivia saw the dark bulk of the gatehouse rearing up ahead of them, with only one or two lights showing.
“This is the quickest way to the road,” Nic said, seeing her looking doubtful. “Don’t concern yourself. No one will see us. My mother keeps early hours. We are quite safe.”
Olivia trailed after him through the trees, and eventually they reached a mown stretch of grass that bordered one side of the building.
“The coach should be waiting just beyond the gates that open from the road to the driveway,” Nic said. “Not far now.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when there was a shout behind them. Branches snapped as someone crashed through the undergrowth. They both froze. The shout came again, and now there was the dull gleam of a lantern, getting nearer, the light wavering and shaking because whoever held it was running.
“Devil take it,” Nic said, releasing his breath. “Wilson, the gamekeeper. The bloody fool thinks we’re poachers.”
Olivia knew it wasn’t funny but she felt a terrible urge to giggle, and put her hand up to her mouth to stifle it.
“I don’t want him to recognize you,” Nic went on, lowering his voice. “Go over to the gatehouse and wait for me in the shadows. I’ll get rid of him.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, hurrying to meet his overzealous gamekeeper, calling out his name in warning. Olivia did as she was told, moving closer to the gatehouse. There was a terrace flanking this part of the building, and she climbed the stone steps that led up to it. There were rows of pale blossoms, and a fountain splashing, catching the moonlight in ripples of silver. She leaned over to peer into the pool that collected the water, but if there were fish they were well hidden among the reeds and lily pads.
A shiver ran up her back, the hairs standing up on her nape. Even before the voice spoke, Olivia knew she was no longer alone.
Chapter 16
“Who is there?”
Haughty and used to being obeyed, the tone was instantly recognizable. It was like a repeat of their first meeting, in the castle garden by the Pan fountain. Olivia tried to breathe calmly, wondering if it was possible for her to turn and run. If she reached the stairs she could reach the safety of the trees. But Nic and the gamekeeper were over there, she reminded herself. What if Wilson recognized her? What if he thought she was a poacher and shot her?
But she had dilly-dallied too long and it was already too late. Lady Lacey moved from the shadows and stopped directly behind her, trapping her against the wall of the pool and preventing her from going anywhere.
“You are trespassing. Who are you? Turn and face me, I say, or are you a coward?”
Olivia was no coward, and she turned, keeping her face deep in her hood. She was surprised to see that Lady Lacey was holding a thin cigar in her fingers, the pungent smoke mingling with the strong perfume of night-scented stocks. She knew that there were women who had taken up the masculine habit of smoking, but Lady Lacey seemed like the very last person she could imagine joining their ranks.
“I-I’m sorry to have startled you, my lady,” she said, in a low, husky voice, disguising her usual calm tones as best she could. “I didn’t realize you were still awake.”
Suspicious, Lady Lacey peered at her, but Olivia only lowered her face further into the folds of her hood. Just then the voices of Nic and his gamekeeper drifted toward them from the woods, rising and falling over the distance. Lady Lacey looked in their direction with a frown.
“What on earth is going on? Who is out there? I am going to call my servants—”
She turned away, taking a step toward the house, but Olivia reached out and caught her wrist, holding it tight. It was the hand holding the cigar and it dropped from her shocked fingers.
“No, you must not, Lady Lacey.”
Lady Lacey stared at her in amazement, as if no one had ever dared to tell her no before. “How dare you! Release me at once. I will not—”
The glow of the lantern shone out, then faded into the trees, and a moment later Olivia could hear someone coming quickly up the stone steps. She recognized Nic’s tall figure as he reached the terrace, and was silhouetted against the night sky. He saw them at the same time and slowed, taking in the situation, before he approached them.
“That is my son,” Lady Lacey said, her voice heavy, as if the weight of the words was actually causing her pain. Her gaze slid back to Olivia, sharpening. “You must be one of Dominic’s unmentionables.”
That was when Olivia made her decision to run for it. As if she’d read her mind, Lady Lacey’s bony wrist twisted in her hand, and the woman’s fingers fastened painfully about hers, holding her prisoner.
Nic’s tall figure stopped in front of them, and Olivia could feel the agonizing tension between mother and son. She didn’t understand it.
“I hope for your sake my son paid you well,” Lady Lacey said with a dry bitterness, speaking to Olivia but looking at Nic. “He prefers to pay. You see, that way he doesn’t feel he needs to engage himself, emotionally. My son doesn’t feel, he doesn’t care. He’s selfish and immune to the suffering he causes those around him. Heed my words, girl, or you’ll end up as one of his victims.”
The words must have stung, although Nic said nothing. But Olivia wasn’t going to be silent—if he would not stand up for himself then she would do it for him.
“You’re very wrong.”
“Oh, am I!” Lady Lacey spoke angrily. “Well, then, speak up, girl. Tell me why I am wrong about my own son.”
“Olivia,” Nic murmured, “don’t.”
“It’s not true,” Olivia said boldly. “Nic isn’t like that. You may be his mother but you don’t know him at all.”
Lady Lacey peered more closely at the dark formless shape of Olivia in her cloak, with her face hidden inside the shadows of the hood. In response Olivia tried to make herself smaller.
“Who are you? Answer me, girl! I will not be ignored.”
For a brief moment Olivia considered playing at being one of the women she’d met at the demimonde ball, but it seemed a poor trick to play on Nic’s mother, no matter how wrong she was about her son.
“I am no one important. A friend. Someone who has known Lord Lacey all her life and who trusts him. I know he would never hurt me.”
Nic groaned softly in despair.
Lady Lacey was silent. Olivia had expected her to be furious. No one liked to be told she was wrong, and Her Ladyship seemed like the sort of woman who was used to being deferred to rather than challenged. But when Olivia dared to lift her head and glance up at the other woman, she saw that Lady Lacey wasn’t angry after all, but pensive and sad. Lady Lacey’s haughty face was old an
d wan and tired, and for the first time Olivia found herself pitying her.
“My son lives his own life. He does what he does, and although I don’t approve of it, I don’t try to stop him. I decided a long time ago that my son must go to hell in his own way.”
“Very wise of you, Mother,” Nic said dryly. “Never allow yourself to have unrealistic expectations about me, then you can never again feel disappointed.”
There was a silence. Olivia tried to pull away from Lady Lacey’s grip, but the older woman only tightened it further. It was a mistake because it drew her attention back. “Who are you, girl?” she demanded yet again. “I know your voice.”
“I told you, my lady. I am no one.”
“Then take off your hood and show me what ‘no one’ looks like.”
Olivia looked at Nic, caught in a trap. They really had no choice, and he gave a nod, looking resigned. She reached up and slowly slid back her hood, letting it fall about her shoulders. Her hair was pale gold in the moonlight, and as Lady Lacey stood, peering into Olivia’s face, there was no doubting the appalled recognition gathering in her eyes.
“Miss Monteith!” She gaped. “It is Miss Monteith from the village, isn’t it? Oh dear Lord, another one.”
“Lady Lacey, please, I must go,” Olivia said breathlessly, her fingers beginning to ache. “I really must go. Please.”
But Lady Lacey had no intention of letting her go. She was so distraught she didn’t even appear to realize she was still holding her. “Miss Monteith, have you no care for your reputation? Are you so lacking in good sense that you would risk everything? I can hardly believe what I am seeing.”
“Lady Lacey—”
“How could you?” She was glaring at Nic. Her voice dropped, and there was a tremor in it, as if she could no longer contain her emotions. “Have you forgotten what you did last time? Have you forgotten your promise? Despite myself I believed you when you said you would never harm an innocent girl again. I believed Abbot when he said you only indulged yourself with trollops and trulls. And yet here…here is Miss Monteith, as large as life…” She put a hand to her chest, as if she was finding it difficult to breathe.