by Amelia Grey
Olivia was a married lady whether or not she felt like one. She had to accept that and adjust to her new life.
She had to trust her own judgment. And her judgment was telling her she must hold her tongue and let Andrew see her softer side, her confident side, her helpful side. Not the shrew she had been that morning. She must have sounded awful, not allowing him to read his paper in peace as he’d done for so many years, and insisting he had invaded her room after he’d made it clear he hadn’t.
Starting today she would be a new woman.
By midafternoon she felt light-headed and realized that she’d eaten very little in the last twenty-four hours. So she sat quietly in the dining room and ate alone while she stared at Lord Truefitt’s gossip column. The tittle-tattle confirmed Andrew’s claim that he’d been out of the house all night and couldn’t possibly have been the shadow of a man she saw in her room.
That left her wondering again if maybe she had really seen Lord Pinkwater’s ghost.
And if she had, should she tell her aunt that her deceased beau did truly live in Lord Dugdale’s house?
No, she decided after much agonizing thought. She would remain quiet for now and wait to see if the man or ghost made another appearance before she said anything to Agatha.
Her meeting with Whibbs and the staff went very well. She had spent more time than she’d wanted to with Ellie, explaining what duties she expected of her during the day. After the debacle with the vase and the pike, which Olivia assumed was Ellie’s fault although Whibbs hadn’t come right out and said so, Olivia wanted to make sure the maid knew that she wasn’t to touch anything in the house unless Olivia asked her to.
She also told Ellie that she didn’t want her to be her shadow. Olivia was too independent to want anyone constantly anticipating her needs.
From all she could tell, Whibbs’s account books looked in perfect order. He certainly had a knack for hiring reliable, capable servants who kept everything in tip-top shape. Andrew was lucky to have such a competent butler.
She looked up at the clock on the mantel and realized she had to go upstairs and dress for the evening. She hadn’t heard Andrew come in, but he’d said he would be back in time to take her to the first party of the evening.
When she entered her room she saw that Ellie had laid out the right gown, undergarments, shoes, wrap, and reticule. The pale young maid might not know how to accomplish household duties, but she certainly knew how to dress a lady.
Olivia started changing and realized she kept hearing something that sounded like loud whispered voices, so she stopped undressing and listened. She couldn’t make out any words that were said, but she was certain she heard a man and a woman talking.
She looked around the room and wondered where the voices could possibly be coming from. There was only one other room on this floor, and that was her husband’s.
Suddenly Olivia gasped.
Andrew wouldn’t have brought a woman, his mistress, into this house, into his room?
Would he?
He had stayed out all night on their wedding night. She couldn’t put anything past him.
Without thinking about what she was going to do, Olivia grabbed her white lawn dressing gown and threw it on over her lace-trimmed chemise. Rather than taking time to belt it she simply held it together at her chest as she padded barefoot down the hallway to Andrew’s room.
She knocked loudly.
Seconds later the door opened and there stood Andrew just as he’d been last night, dressed only in his low-slung trousers, showing far more of his beautiful body than she needed to see. For a moment she forgot why she was there and allowed her gaze to sweep over his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and narrow hips.
No man should be that tempting.
“I had a feeling it was you,” he said in an almost cavalier way.
“Is that because you have a guilty conscience?” She tried to look past him into the room but the door wasn’t opened wide enough.
His honey-colored eyes darkened as a flash of surprise showed in his handsome features, and for a moment she thought he might answer yes.
“No,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Suddenly she didn’t feel so courageous.
“I heard voices,” she said, a little breathless from her mad dash down the corridor, from seeing his splendid, naked chest once again gleaming like a beckoning beacon in the pale lamplight.
Andrew’s brows drew together in a frown as he studied her face. “And?”
He certainly didn’t seem to have a guilty look about him now. If he was hiding anyone in his room he didn’t seem nervous or concerned about it.
“And I thought they must be coming from your room.”
“These voices you heard?”
She nodded.
“What would be the problem if you heard me talking to Whibbs?”
“Nothing, but it was a female’s voice I heard—talking with you.”
“With me?” Andrew swung the door wider and stepped back. He bowed and bid her entrance with his outstretched arm. “There’s no female in my room for me to talk to and I don’t make a habit of talking to myself in a falsetto voice.”
Olivia stepped inside and glanced around before settling her gaze on his face. Too many strange things she didn’t understand were going on inside this house.
“But I’m sure I heard a man and a woman whispering.”
She knew he could read her face and knew exactly what she was thinking. There was nothing for her to do now but stand her ground.
“Perhaps you heard the housekeeper or a maid, perhaps even your own maid, but the voice did not come from my room.”
Olivia cringed inside.
What was wrong with her? How many mistakes was she going to make before she learned her lesson? She was a sensible person. At least she used to be before she met Andrew. Now she seemed to be constantly saying and doing the wrong thing. Of course, a maid could have been standing at the top of the stairs, or perhaps the voices drifted up from the lower floor.
Why had she immediately thought the worst about Andrew? Was it because he’d stayed out all night?
He folded his arms across his chest. “Last night you thought you saw someone in your room.”
“I’m sure I did,” she said, more to reassure herself that she wasn’t going crazy than to convince Andrew. “It wasn’t a ghost.”
“And tonight you think you’re hearing voices.”
“Yes, I—know it sounds crazy, but…” She stopped and took a deep breath. She had to reclaim her wits and stop sounding insane. “But perhaps I’m overreacting to being in a strange house.”
“Olivia, I think you are taking your ghost stories a little too far. If you were ever really searching for one, he’s not here. And if it is just a ruse to enter my room, you don’t have to make up an excuse. I told you. You’re always welcome in here.”
She sighed. Was it better for him to believe she thought she heard ghosts than think he had brought his mistress into their home?
Olivia let go of her robe and her hands fell to her sides. Had Agatha succeeded in making her think she was seeing ghosts and now she was hearing them as well? She looked up at Andrew and had a sudden urge to tell him about Agatha’s search for Lord Pinkwater and make him understand that she wasn’t crazy. She was just trying to help her aunt.
But she couldn’t tell him. Agatha was so happy now that she’d returned and had been welcomed back into London’s Society as if she’d never left. She had to stay quiet and let Andrew think what he wanted to about her.
She looked up at her husband. “I’m sorry I disturbed you again.”
“Are you not feeling well?” he asked.
For the first time since they had met she saw real concern in his eyes and she found that comforting. “No, no, I’m fine. I do believe I’m t
aking my search for Lord Pinkwater a little too seriously.”
He gently took hold of her arm and said, “Come in and I’ll get you some water.”
She allowed him to walk her over to a chest where he poured water from a pitcher into a glass and gave it to her. She sipped it and handed the glass back to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sure my imagination is playing tricks on me. Perhaps it’s because the vase fell the first evening I was here, and then this morning the pike, and now the voices.”
“Both incidents were disturbing, but nothing to worry about. A ghost didn’t cause either one. I spoke to Whibbs about the vase and he told me he believes it happened because a careless maid dusted it and left it too close to the edge. He was going to dismiss her but decided she could have one more chance. No doubt she’s the one who dusted the suit of armor as well and was careless and left the pike loose.”
An odd feeling assailed Olivia. So Whibbs hadn’t told Andrew that she was the one who insisted that Ellie stay as her maid. Her respect for the butler grew.
Her eyes swept over Andrew’s face. She was drawn to this softer side of him. “That was kind of Whibbs to allow her another chance.”
“He’s always been fair.”
“Well, I should go back to my room and let you finish dressing.”
One step took her so close to him their bodies were almost touching. Soft lamplight danced on his rumpled hair and sliced attractively across his freshly shaven face. She wanted to step into his embrace and bury her nose in his neck and breathe in his scent.
“Do you really want to go back to your room right now?” he asked huskily.
Had he read her mind? Were her feelings written on her face for him to see?
“Yes,” she said, but a little voice inside her challenged her statement, and she made no move to leave.
He lowered his face closer to hers, his gaze intent on hers. In a softer voice he said, “Did you really hear voices or was it just another ploy to enter my room and watch me dress?”
Olivia stiffened. “After last night, how could you think I’d do that?” she argued. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want me.”
He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. His touch was warm, thrilling even though she didn’t want it to be, and still she made no effort to leave.
“Oh, no, Olivia, I made it clear last night I do want you. Make no mistake, I want you.”
His gaze left her eyes and traveled down to her lips, lingering for a moment before sliding down the length of her body and back up again to her eyes.
Suddenly Olivia’s dressing gown was too hot and her chemise too thin. Her stomach felt as if it were tied in knots of desire. Anticipation of his kiss was so strong inside her she could barely keep from reaching for him.
Why did the thought of being his wife in every sense of the word excite her so?
He kept his face close to hers, his voice low as he said, “I simply insist on picking the date, the place, and the time.”
She was outraged that he would admit he wanted her but not right now.
Her shoulders flew back and she lifted her chin. “I refuse to be chattel just waiting around for you to call me as if you were my master.”
“You do like to issue challenges, don’t you?”
“That was a promise, not a challenge. You said you wanted me. I never said I wanted you.”
“But you do, Olivia. I see it in your eyes.”
“You fool yourself, my lord.”
“Shall I prove it?”
She started to turn away but he grabbed the lapels on her robe and pulled her to him. She willingly gave in to his irreverent tug, putting up no fight as his lips slowly descended to hers. She kept her eyes open, but his were closed. She saw the smoothness of his brow, the long length of his lashes. He took his time with the kiss, and though she loved the touch of his moist lips on hers, she made no effort to respond to him.
Without letting his lips leave her skin, he gave her short, sweet kisses that moved agonizingly slowly to the side of her mouth, below her jawbone, and back up to her cheek just below her eye.
It was the most sensual kiss he had ever given her and she melted over it. Her breath trembled in her throat. His touch was trained and skilled to elicit the most passionate of feelings from her. All her senses were tuned to this man.
He made her weak with a wanting she didn’t understand and couldn’t resist.
She couldn’t deny to herself that she wanted so much more from him, but she wouldn’t admit it to him.
His eyes opened and he saw her watching him.
“Have you changed your mind?” he whispered into her mouth.
“No,” she answered, before surrendering to him as his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, taking and giving as much as she received.
There was suddenly a desperate urgency in the way he circled her in his arms and held her close, in the way he plundered her mouth. His tongue swirled and skimmed along the lining of her lips, sending chills of excitement to pebble her skin.
Andrew’s hands slid up to her shoulders and he raked her robe off her arms and let it fall to the floor.
He lifted his head a little but their breaths still mingled as he whispered, “I love the taste of you. I love the feel of your soft skin.”
Olivia’s stomach flipped with delicious curls of passion. She hadn’t forgotten the taste or the feel of him, either.
He peppered her lips with several soft sensuous kisses.
Heated with the sweet rush of desire, she lifted her lips to him again, and this time the gentle, sensuous kiss had been replaced with eagerness. There was demanding pressure in the meeting of their mouths.
Olivia felt a hunger inside Andrew that matched her own. His lips left hers and burned a hot trail of moisture all the way down the column of her neck to the hollow of her throat. There he stopped and tasted her skin with his tongue.
She gasped with pleasure. Olivia’s arms slid around his neck. Her hands found the back of his head and her fingers wove through his hair before moving down to his back to caress the rock-hard muscles of his naked skin.
Andrew’s hand slowly yet firmly moved up her rib cage and cupped her breast with a possessive hold that was firm but not hurting. His other hand slid around to her buttocks. He pressed her womanhood against the hard shaft beneath his trousers.
Olivia melted against his heat. Once again she welcomed the enticing pressure of him nestled convincingly against her softness.
“Olivia, tell me you want me right now. Let me hear you say it.”
Her body wanted to say yes, yes, a thousand times yes, but her mind rejected that idea. He said he would pick the time and the place. He must pursue her.
“No,” she whispered against his lips.
“Do you want me?”
She almost smiled at this game of words they were playing while her body felt as if it was being tortured with one amazing sensation after another.
“It’s none of your concern what I want,” she managed to murmur into his mouth.
“I’m making progress. That doesn’t mean no.”
He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth, driving her wild with wanting. His hand slid down her hip and grasped the hem of her chemise and yanked it up to her chest. With ease his hand slipped over and caressed her bare breasts one after the other and back again.
Olivia gasped at the sheer pleasure of his hand on her skin. With his thumb and finger he softly rolled one nipple back and forth. She squeezed her legs together to try to stop the building tension inside her.
“Tell me you want me, Olivia,” he whispered again.
“No,” she managed to say again, even though her body cried out yes.
“Then stop me, Olivia. Stop me.”
Thirteen
&n
bsp; She had surprised the hell out of him again.
Just when he thought he had Olivia where he wanted her, she pushed out of his arms and calmly walked out of his bedchamber, leaving him frustrated and irritated.
It was hours later and Andrew stood with a group of men who were discussing the capabilities of their latest prize-winning horses and hounds. Ordinarily he would be very interested in both, as hunting and racing were two of his favorite things to do, but not tonight. He couldn’t keep his eyes or his thoughts off his wife or off her unexpected visit to his room a few hours ago.
Had she really heard voices or was it part of her continued plan to try to get into his bed? And if she wanted to get there so badly why wouldn’t she have admitted to him that she wanted him as he had tried to get her to do?
And why was he fighting so hard against taking her to his bed? It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. He did. Desperately. What he didn’t like was the thought of her manipulating him again.
A hand clapped Andrew on the back and he turned to face John.
“I’m glad to see you decided to spend the evening with your wife.”
“The evening but not the night,” Andrew said in a surly voice.
“That doesn’t sound promising, my friend. Come on, let’s get a drink.”
Andrew and John left the group Andrew had been standing with and threaded their way through the crowd of fashionably dressed men and beautifully gowned women. They made their way to the other side of the room not too far from where Olivia stood with her aunt, Lady Lynette, and Lady Colebrooke.
John picked up two glasses of amber liquid from a servant and gave one to Andrew as he said, “Something tells me you aren’t taking to marriage very well.”
Andrew looked at his friend. He was actually having a hell of a time with it. How could he explain he wanted his wife yet he didn’t? He’d never been in a dilemma like that before.
“Would you take to marriage well if you were forced into it?”
“Probably not,” John said.
“Then tell me how the hell do you think I’m supposed to feel?”
John looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then his gaze strayed over to where Olivia stood. “Look at it like this, it could have been worse.”