His intent gaze had made her more aware of them than ever, her nipples tightening and a strange heat beginning low in her belly.
Clearing his throat, he’d smiled again, though this time it was strained. “Welcome home, Li—um, m’lady.”
She’d tried to smile back, bewilderment translated it to more of a grimace. M’lady? He had never called her that, or used any other honorific that reminded her of the difference in their stations. Was he worried that someone might overhear them?
Her voice had come out hoarse when she’d replied. “Hello, Niall.”
He’d reached up to rub the back of his neck, his gaze wandering toward the paddocks, where other grooms went about their work. No one had paid them any attention, as the sight of them conversing was not unusual. Olivia or Adam hanging about the stables had become common enough over the years.
“How was yer journey?” he’d asked, still rubbing his neck and looking anywhere except at her.
“Oh, fine.” She’d dropped her gaze to her boots peeking out from beneath the hem of her carriage dress, suddenly unable to look at him, either. “How fare your parents?”
Niall had sighed, shifting from foot to foot. “Maw’s been sick … the doctor says it doesnae look good. Da is … well, he’s m’da, as always.”
He had not needed to explain anything when it came to Conall Gibbs, when Olivia and everyone else who knew him understood how things were. The man was a raving drunk prone to fits of violence. It was not unusual to find Niall sporting a blackened eye or a fat lip from time to time. She would much rather have heard that the Stablemaster was the one who had gotten ill as opposed to his wife.
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” she’d replied.
“Thank ye. Adam’s in the house waitin’. Ye should go to him.”
For some reason, that had stung. Glancing up at him, she’d found he still avoided her gaze, as if he could not be away from her fast enough. The need to be near him and the urge to flee due to these confusing feelings had warred within her. Eventually, the latter had won out.
“All right, then,” she’d replied. “It was good to see you, Niall.”
“You too, m’lady.”
With that, he’d brushed past her and headed toward the tables, the sinewy muscles of his thighs stretching and flexing beneath his snug breeches. Another surge of the unfamiliar heat had swept through her, and for a moment, she’d found herself unable to look away, captivated by his broad back and taut buttocks.
What the devil was wrong with her?
Cheeks heated with both embarrassment and this other strange emotion she didn’t quite understand, she’d turned and rushed toward the house. She had not bothered to retrieve any of her belongings from the carriage, knowing servants would deliver them to the house for her.
She did not understand why she could not talk to Niall the way she once had. Why couldn’t she simply throw herself into his arms and let him take her up onto his shoulders like he always did? Why couldn’t he look at her, or smile at her, or ask what books she had brought home for them to read? Why did he address her as if they were strangers instead of the best of friends?
It had only taken her a few days to realize what was happening and what it meant. And on a warm summer day beside the swimming hole, Olivia had experienced her first taste of true desire at the hands of Niall.
1810
9 years earlier…
Olivia picked her way down the sloping ground toward the pond, a satchel holding her books slung over one shoulder. This summer proved unseasonably warm, and she wished to take advantage of the clear skies and indulge in a bit of time outdoors. Before she knew it, she would have to return to school, which meant entire days cloistered indoors, with only short afternoon walks for fresh air. Being away from home, she missed Adam and Niall most of all, but had also longed for the beauty of Scotland and the greenness of the outdoors. The garden at school, where flowers grew enclosed in stone, was small and pitiful compared to the beautiful expanse of her beloved home. She smiled as she came to the bank of the pond, setting down her bag. Niall and Adam would join her shortly, but for now, she was blessedly alone.
This short time on her own would give her a moment to gather her bearings and prepare herself to face Niall. Things had been strained since her return home, with very few words exchanged between them when they encountered one another. If he came upon her alone, he did his best to avoid her. The rare times he spoke to her were almost always followed by that infuriating use of ‘m’lady’, further widening the sudden rift between them. Whenever Adam was with them, he tried to act as if nothing was amiss, so Olivia followed his lead. She smiled and laughed and chattered with her knights the way she always had. When Adam was not looking, she watched Niall, noted the tightness of his jaw, the distance in his eyes. Something had happened, but she could not quite figure out what it was.
Taking a deep breath, she gazed out over the pond. Clumps of white bogbean grew along the edges of the bank while long, narrow stalks of water lobelia grew in clusters in the shallows. The reflection of the trees stretching their branches overhead made the water appear a mossy green, bursts of white from floating water lilies dotting it here and there.
Perhaps a swim would clear her head. This time of year, the water would be just the right temperature.
She made quick work of removing her old, worn morning gown, under which she had only donned a chemise. Knowing she would swim today, she had left off petticoats, stays, and stockings. If the earl knew, he would have her locked in her room for a week. Kicking off her slippers, she approached the pond’s edge, smiling as the cool water lapped over her toes.
She submerged herself and swam to the center, where she laid back and floated on the surface. Above her, a lattice of tree branches and leaves allowed in tiny beams of sunlight that danced like flitting moths overhead. A soft breeze rustled the branches, and the foliage whispered in a comforting melody. When she had been a girl, Adam had told her that the sound was actually the utterance of fairies, that if she closed her eyes and listened closely, she might be able to understand them. She had believed him then, and even now at four-and-ten, she still wanted to believe, even knowing fairies were not real.
After a time, she left the water and approached the bank, reaching into her satchel for a book to read while the sun dried her.
This was how Niall found her. She glanced up from her book as he approached … alone. Her heart stuttered, and her throat constricted until she could hardly breathe. He wore only a shirt and trousers with braces, his sleeves rolled to the elbows to display sinewy forearms. She had seen those arms so many times, as well as his bare chest. Nevertheless, she could not help but notice the dark hair sprouting in places it had not grown before, the veins showing on the backs of his hands, the tension of his shirt pulled tight over his shoulders. Had he always been so big? Had he always been so masculine? It was as if she had blinked, and Niall the boy had transformed into Niall the man.
He nodded at her in greeting, pausing to kick off his shoes. She placed her scrap of lace in the book to mark her place and watched as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Where is Adam?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level. The skin he revealed with the opening of his shirt made her tongue feel thick and useless in her mouth.
“Your da wanted a word with him,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he had been these past few days. “He’ll be along.”
That did not give her much hope. The earl’s ‘word’ with Adam was likely to turn into a lecture that could last for hours, which meant she and Niall had no choice but to remain here alone.
“Oh,” she murmured, going back to her book as he approached the water wearing only his trousers.
Despite her best efforts, she found herself unable to concentrate, her gaze wandering to Niall far too often. She watched him walk into the water, then duck his head beneath the surface. Her mouth fell open when he rose again, beads of water forming on his bare skin
before trickling down in little rivulets. His hair plastered to his head and neck, the sun shining off his slick skin in a way that made it difficult for her to look away.
As she watched him swim, recollections of conversations she’d overheard at school came back to her. Some of the older girls had often boasted about their experience with young men—mostly kisses and a few tentative caresses. But, it proved more than most of the younger girls had experienced. Olivia had only listened halfheartedly, more interested in her books than anything else. Her sheltered life at Dunvar House had not allowed her to come into contact with any young men other than Adam, Niall, and the silent servants who treated her like some untouchable princess they could barely look at, let alone talk to. There had been no opportunity for her to experience attraction toward anyone of the opposite sex.
This was what those older girls had been talking about, she realized, as Niall left the water and approached, every line and bulge of his body on display due to his clinging, wet trousers. This was what attraction and desire felt like. She let it wash over her, hot and tingly and overwhelming. It felt impossible that Niall would be the first man she felt this way toward. Even so, her body did not lie. The tightness in her breasts and the flutters in her belly were not going away and only grew stronger as he came closer. Surely, this meant she wanted to be kissed, and by him.
But, that was ridiculous. Niall was eighteen now, just like Adam, far too old to care that she had started growing a bosom and no longer had a round, baby face. She’d heard some of the chambermaids whispering about the both of them, and knew that he’d likely kissed some of them … had probably done more than kiss them. Why would he want young, inexperienced her? It did not matter that she was a lady more finely adorned than a maid. Those maids were older, experienced, and probably knew what to do about the painful tightness in their nipples and the incessant fluttering between their legs. She was practically an infant by comparison; of course he would never want to kiss her.
However, when he sank onto the ground nearby—but not so close that they could touch—Olivia could not stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss Niall. As he folded his arms and rested them on his bent knees, gazing out over the water, she studied his profile, her gaze settling on his mouth. She had never given any thought to the shape of his lips, but could not stop tracing the curves and lines with her gaze. They weren’t as full as hers, but were shapely, his upper lip slightly bowed with a tiny scar he’d gotten when a horse he’d been training had thrown him. She longed to trace that scar with her fingertip.
He darted his gaze in her direction in response to her perusal. “Somethin’ wrong, m’lady?”
Sighing, she set her book aside and sat up straight, tucking her legs under her. His gaze shifted, making her very much aware of the damp chemise clinging to her body. It had never mattered before, but his stare made her wonder if he could see through the muslin, if her nipples might be on display. Folding her arms over her chest, she cleared her throat.
“I don’t know. You just seem … different.”
“Different how?”
His brusque tone took her aback, and she frowned, studying him intently. “You’ve hardly looked at me or talked to me since I arrived home, and … and you keep calling me ‘my lady’, as if you’re addressing a stranger instead of … well, me.”
His gaze focused upon her face now, and she could practically feel him tracing the lines and planes. “Ye’ve grown up overnight it seems … into a proper lady. It’s the right way for me to—”
“What utter nonsense!” she scoffed. “When have we ever cared about what is proper? I do not like it, Niall. Many things in my life have changed since I left for school, but … I never wanted you to be one of them. I don’t want you to be different.”
“Ye’re different now, too.”
“Different how?”
“Ye’re taller.”
She laughed. “So are you.”
That got a smile out of him, and he seemed to relax a bit. “Yer hair got longer. I like it.”
Her belly quivered at the unexpected compliment.
“You have a beard,” she pointed out.
He rubbed a hand over the hair on his jaw. “Aye. I shave, but it grows too fast.”
“I like it,” she told him.
His tone grew teasing, his smile widening. “Do ye, now? I thought you didnae want me to be different?”
They laughed together, and the furrows marring his brow eased away. That the tension between them had abated a little gave her the courage to ask what had been on her mind for days.
“Are you angry with me?”
The tips of his ears reddened, and he looked away again, hugging his knees as if for dear life. “I’m not mad at ye, Livvie. I just …”
She leaned toward him when he trailed off, her lips parting in anticipation. Relief flooded her at the sound of her name from his lips for the first time in what felt like ages.
“What?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing.”
Olivia gave a frustrated snort, not certain what to do as he retreated from her once again. Whatever bothered him, he did not seem to want to talk about it. So, she broached the one subject that had begun consuming her thoughts from the moment he had appeared on the bank.
“Niall, I want … I mean, I was wondering … would you kiss me?”
The words came tumbling out before she could stop them, falling with all the weight of a massive boulder. His head jerked toward her, eyes wide as their gazes met. Shock flickered across his face momentarily, to be followed by horror.
“Olivia!”
“The other girls at school talk about it all the time,” she said in a rush. “So many of them know what it is like, but I … no one has ever kissed me.”
Shaking his head, he watched her as if she had gone insane. “Livvie …”
“Just a little one,” she added. If she kept talking, he could not reject her. “No one has to know, and I would never tell. It is just … I am four-and-ten now, and I am one of the only girls my age in school who has never been kissed.”
She bit her lip, now out of words, her chest aching as if someone held her heart in a vise. She could hardly breathe for anticipating his answer, waiting for him to say something, to give her what she wanted, or dash her hopes.
He took a deep breath and released it on a long exhale, closing his eyes as if pained. God, she had never felt worse. Was she really so terrible that even the thought of kissing her disgusted him?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching for her gown. “I should not have asked.”
Before she could rise to get dressed, his arm shot out through the space between them, his hand clasping her wrist. She looked up to find his dark eyes boring into her, glittering and fathomless. She trembled.
“Stop,” he rasped, his voice low and rough. “Don’t go.”
She set her gown aside and stared back at him, the thrill of not knowing what might happen next causing her to shiver as if cold. However, she was not cold. She felt as if she were burning up from the inside, the heat in her belly nearly unbearable.
“Ye shouldn’t go askin’ men t’ kiss ye,” he admonished. “’Tis a good way to get yerself hurt, and then, me and Adam’ll have to murder someone.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never asked anyone. Only you.”
“And if I don’t kiss ye, ye’ll go ask someone else, is that it?”
The vehemence in his voice made her belly clench. She could not decide if he was angry at her for asking him, or furious over the prospect of her asking another young man.
“I-I don’t know.”
His hand tightened around her wrist, not so much that it hurt, but just enough that she knew he meant business when he spoke again.
“Promise me if I do it, ye willnae go pesterin’ anyone else about it. If I do it, ye willnae try this again. Say it, Livvie.”
“I … I won’t ask anyone else,” she murmured, her heart poun
ding with equal parts fear and excitement.
Niall was going to kiss her! She hadn’t even known she had wanted it until just a moment ago, and now, it seemed like the most important thing anyone could ever give her.
His mouth pinched into a grim line as he released her arm and then inched closer, shifting across the grass until he loomed over her. She tipped her head back and gazed up at him, clenching her chemise in both hands to stop them from shaking. He sat so close, his thigh rested against hers, firm and powerful where hers was soft and supple. For a long moment, he simply stared down at her, the hardness in his eyes melting away into something tender. It was almost the same way he’d looked at her before, when he had been her knight and she the little princess. Only now, there was something else there, something that sent a tremor down her spine and made her pulse race.
She flinched when he touched her, his fingers gentle on her chin as he lifted it to angle her to his liking. Then, he lowered his head and kissed her. It was swift, his mouth resting against hers with the barest pressure before he pulled away. She huffed, a sound of both shock and regret. It had not lasted long, but in that fleeting moment, Olivia felt more alive than she ever had. She felt that kiss everywhere, warmth radiating from her lips, over her face, down her throat, and lower, to the tips of her toes.
“Niall,” she whispered, awe coloring the utterance of his name. It had been everything, yet still not enough.
He sighed, his eyelids heavy, his gaze still boring into hers, his lips parted. “Livvie,” he whispered. This time, his lips caressed her name in a way they hadn’t before—in a way that made hearing him say it feel very improper.
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