“We must take it on faith, Michael. At once the easiest and most difficult thing to do. Will you?” The promise in Olivia’s eyes was amazing.
“I will.” It felt like as much of a commitment as a marriage vow. Michael could not remember the last time he had taken anything on faith. Then he realized he had begun that list when he accepted that Olivia loved him.
Reverend Drummond came to Olivia and took her hand in both of his. “You have been blessed in this life and have shared it with the world around you, Lady Olivia. Mr. Garrett will be your greatest support, as you will be his. Your greatest joy and, I will be as honest as a widower can, your greatest exasperation. Believe me, it is worth the effort.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was clogged with tears.
He nodded and patted her hand one last time. He took Michael’s hand in both of his. It was awkward, felt strange. Michael had expected no more than a handshake.
“Olivia is a treasure. She is your treasure now. Guard her with all the good in you. Love her with all the power your heart holds and, Mr. Garrett, listen to her.”
He spoke the last with a smile of such understanding that Michael had to smile back. Either that or cry himself.
Michael and Olivia walked arm-in-arm up the road from Pennsford to the castle. It was, at last, a perfect spring day. Who cared if it was already summer?
The walk took much longer than usual, as there were any number of spots where it was necessary to stop and admire the flowers or the green-tipped trees and share a kiss.
They approached the gatehouse as the sun bathed the castle in a golden light exactly as it had the evening he had first arrived at Pennford.
“This may be the coldest, wettest spring we have ever had, but it feels like the most glorious spring of my life.”
“I think it must be as Saint Paul says, that love makes all things new.”
“See, you are already sounding like a man of God,” she said on a laugh.
“If that’s so I will declare this day one of rest.”
“Oh yes, and we can spend all of it in bed.” She raised his hand and kissed it.
“Very enticing, but I think you would be missed in the kitchen.” He pulled her off the lane with a gentle tug and kissed her in case she thought his words a rejection. He pushed her curls off her face and framed it with his hands.
Olivia pulled him back onto the lane. “If we stop dawdling there will be enough time before Cook wonders where I am.”
“If you wish,” he said, pretending that giving her pleasure was a noble gesture on his part. “It would be pure joy if nothing disturbed us from now until the banns are announced. We could use some peace.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than one of the grooms hurried over to them.
“You must come immediately, Mr. Garrett. The most extraordinary thing has happened! Troy has learned to count!” Apparently it was so extraordinary the groom did not even notice that the night guard was holding hands with the duke’s sister.
Olivia laughed and pulled on his hand. “Hurry, Michael.” When he shook his head she let go of his hand and went ahead of him. She was back before she had gone far. “Michael, if Troy can count, do you think she can learn her letters?”
“Do not even suggest it, Olivia. The next few years would be a circus. And Pennsford is quite lively enough as it is.”
“Not only are you beginning to sound like a man of God, you are beginning to act like one.” She paused only a moment. “Stodgy.”
“Sensible.”
“Solemn.”
“Sane.”
“Somber.”
“Sagacious.”
“Oh that is excellent. You win this time, wise one.”
She blew him a kiss and hurried ahead.
Michael watched her dance along, her pink gown billowing behind her as though it could hardly keep up.
As much as he might tease Olivia, it was clear that his life was going to be anything but quiet. She would see to that, if the people of the castle ever considered making his life easier. He thanked God for it as he followed the heart and soul of his world into the stable to see exactly what Troy could count.
Epilogue
MICHAEL WATCHED Olivia putter about their vicarage bedroom. He wondered if she did it to tease him or because she truly could not settle to bed without being sure that everything was in its place. He never complained. It was such a pleasure, anticipating that moment when she would come lie beside him.
She was as adventurous in lovemaking as she was with food. He thanked God for it every day. And every night he hoped that God was not shocked at how much they enjoyed each other. No matter what new ways they found to tease and tempt, it always ended the same. Want became need and loving each other was the only thing that mattered.
Olivia blew out that last candle and replaced it with a new one. Once under the covers, she drummed her feet to loosen the covers, never mind that by the time they went to sleep they would be loosened enough.
“Now, tell me, Michael, where did you find Reverend Drummond?” She was lying on her side, watching his profile.
Michael stared at the canopy so that he was not too distracted to answer his wife. “He was in the haunted room in the old castle, talking to the air.”
“Or the ghost.”
“I knew you would say that, and Mrs. Blackford agrees with you.” He glanced at her. Just a glance. Her eyes had a devilish glint and he found he gave in to this temptation so easily.
“I spent some time discussing whether he wished to give the sermon this week, and after that he asked if I had decided what to do with the extra loaves and fishes. I assume he was referring to the Gospel feeding of the multitudes and assured him it was all taken care of. When I left to come back here, he was in the castle chapel at his prayers.”
She leaned closer and kissed his bare shoulder. “You are so kind to him. Thank you. He seems to be content?”
“Yes, it was inspired of the duke to suggest that he move to the castle and act as chaplain.”
“A pocket miracle,” Olivia reminded him.
“Yes, it was.”
This was another part of their evening ritual. If it had been his idea that they share a bed, for the first few months at least, it was Olivia who always had a dozen questions for him before they kissed each other good night.
He would grumble that it kept them from what they wanted to do most, but in time he had his own questions. As Olivia pointed out, in bed they had each other’s complete attention.
“Olivia, have you heard anything more? Where is Jess now?”
“Still in Sussex.” She flopped onto her back and reached over to take his hand beneath the covers. At least he thought it was his hand she was reaching for. “It will be almost a year since he left London. At least now we have a place to send letters. He is helping Gabriel, and after that he is off to see Rhys Braedon and his family.”
“Does Rhys Braedon gamble?”
“No, so far Jess has avoided the gaming and will tell no one why. He can be so exasperating. You think I am impulsive? Jess has made it an art.”
“At least you know why your letters never reached him.”
She let go of his hand and moved so that he could reach out and pull her close.
“Michael, did David tell you where Lyn is these days?”
“In France at the moment. He will be back in time for Parliament.”
She buried her face in his chest. “He will grieve for a long time, Michael, but I am hoping that he will marry again.”
The thought of losing his wife, as the duke had, kept Michael silent a moment. He could not imagine the pain if he lost Olivia. Grief was too tame a word.
“So, my dear.” He turned to face her, with only a few inches of white linen between them. “Where are Michael and Olivia?”
“In bed together.” She answered him cautiously, biting back a smile.
He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose and her mouth. “Then, tell me, why are
we talking about other people?”
Olivia fell back from him. She threw her arms out and her bare breasts peeked out from her unbuttoned nightgown. “Michael, why are we talking at all?”
Author’s Note
THE RESEARCH for Lover’s Kiss was wide and varied and, as always, lots of fun. Lady Olivia’s obsession with food was not the norm in Regency England, especially among the ton, and for the daughter of a duke, it was unheard of. It is proof of her singular passion that Olivia made a place for herself in the kitchen. Her position followed her even there, as she did not cook for the household but pursued her own interests.
The briefly mentioned historical figure, Antoine Carême, is considered to be the first celebrity chef. He trained under Talleyrand and worked for Napoleon, the tsar, the Prince Regent and the Rothschilds. How lucky for me that his year in England actually did coincide with Olivia’s one London Season.
Bendasbrook makes his appearance in this book with a nod to the superb science fiction writer Lois McMaster Bujold. He is my version of one of the best characters in all of fiction—Miles Vorkosigan.
Elaine Fox, friend and writer, deserves endless thanks for her willingness to brainstorm and read and comment and critique. Lavinia Klein and Marsha Nuccio are right up there with Elaine. They are, as Marsha calls our group, Lifesavers.
Anke Fontaine helped with Troy’s movements and any horse-related details, especially whether even a genius horse could fit through a cottage door. Thanks also to Kalen Hughes for her expertise on so many things Regency, and to Pam Rosenthal and Tracy Grant for their willingness to share information on the subject of habeas corpus, barely mentioned in this book but of great importance then and now. And to Evelyn Payson for her help with Anglican Church history and details, several of which I stretched for the purposes of the story. The Beau Monde chapter of RWA is a group of talented women who are endlessly generous with their knowledge. Thank you.
Finally thanks to my husband, Paul, who will eat whatever is put in front of him, or find his own dinner, and to my editor, Shauna Summers, and her assistant, Jessica Sebor, whose input and support make any project better.
About the Author
MARY BLAYNEY lives in southern Maryland within sight of the Chesapeake Bay, an hour from Washington, D.C., where she was born and lived a good part of her life. In an area filled with history, her favorite events are millions of years apart. The Battle of St. Leonard Creek—the first step toward the attack on the Capital in 1814—took place a few miles from her home. Each year the event is reenacted and a bit of the period she loves so much comes to life. The Calvert Cliffs are filled with fossils millions of years old, many of which can be found on the beach nearby. When not distracted by the beach or the history of the area, Mary spends her time making up the history of the Pennistan family. Her next book for Bantam Dell is in the works now. For more information on her career and previous books, check her website at MaryBlayney.com.
TRAITOR’S KISS/LOVER’S KISS
A Bantam Book / November 2008
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
TRAITOR’S KISS copyright © 2008 by Mary Blayney
LOVER’S KISS copyright © 2008 by Mary Blayney
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eISBN: 978-0-553-90570-0
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