There was, after all, no changing the fact that she was indeed a woman. If she did not shape up and change her ways, she was going to positively miserable for the whole of her life.
Frustration was beginning to get the better of Philip. He could plainly see his and Mr. Stanley’s trail in the grass, but where was Olivia’s? All sign of her had somehow disappeared after that damned bridge.
Philip’s head snapped up.
The bridge — of course!
He kicked Stephen into a gallop and barreled through the field back to the bridge. When he got there, he saw only two sets of tracks on the north side of the bridge — his own and Mr. Stanley’s. He crossed over the stone structure and saw only two sets of tracks immediately before the bridge as well. By all appearances, only two people had crossed the bridge. So where had Olivia gone? Philip dismounted Stephen and walked around to inspect the ground more closely.
He distinctly recalled losing sight of Olivia after she crossed over the hill before the bridge. His first instinct was to assume she had crossed the bridge. But now that he was beginning to calm down, he realized that Olivia would never do something quite so traditional as cross a bridge like an ordinary person. The riverbank was quite large, Philip noticed when he came to the edge of the land that sloped down to the water. Large enough for a horse to walk upon, he realized. But he didn’t see any tracks. He quickly checked the other side of the bridge.
Without any great amount of surprise, but rather a large sense of victory, Philip found horse tracks leading under the bridge and then a second set leading out from under it. He followed the second set with his eyes down a good bit of the riverbank and then up the slope of land and then off into the distance. No wonder he hadn’t noticed the trail before. It was a good ways away from his own and therefore very well concealed.
Philip smiled. Olivia was apparently very clever, but not quite clever enough. Philip was only embarrassed he had taken so long to realize what Olivia had done.
He sprinted back to Stephen, flung himself into the saddle, and followed the trail. When he realized that it was veering off into the exact direction of Whistler Manor, Philip slowed his horse’s pace and began cantering pleasantly back to the house. Mr. Stanley would be there to find her; there was no need for him to rush back. If anything Philip needed to take his time getting back. He was quite tired from the worry he’d put himself through — as well as the physical exertion; his horse was tired from running, and to top it off, he was blazing hot from the midday heat. If he met Olivia in such a state, he was likely to say or do something he regretted, like strangling the life out of her while he called her a selfish little brat for putting him through such an ordeal.
Philip knew he would never strike Olivia in reality. He called himself a gentleman after all, and no gentleman worth the word would dare strike a lady. But God what he wouldn’t give to be able to reprimand her in some way. Were she his wife, he would … he would … well, he didn’t know what he would do, exactly, but he would invent some sort of punishment.
Olivia as his wife.
The thought made Philip groan. She was beautiful, that much was true. The shape of her body was more than desirable. Hadn’t he fantasized about possessing it more than once? He certainly had loved the feel of it against his own body when he had restrained her in the parlor. Indeed, if Olivia Winter were his wife, Philip doubted that he would have difficulty enjoying his marital rights to her body.
It was her voice that was the problem. He would have to listen to it for the rest of his life if they were married. And she would doubtless scold him more often than not. Philip certainly could not imagine Olivia speaking to him lovingly. In fact, he really couldn’t imagine her behaving lovingly towards him at all. If she had a loving side to her personality, Philip was completely unaware of it. She could be vulnerable if she was hurt, that was true. Seeing her in such a state did inspire Philip to feel compassion for her. But was that only because in all their time as acquaintances, he had been the cause of Olivia’s pain and thus vulnerability?
Philip looked down at Olivia’s trail only to find that it was no longer there. He turned Stephen around and rode back to find it. Had she made a sudden turn? Indeed she had, Philip came to realize when he saw the tracks turn onto a very narrow trail in the woods. He turned onto the trail and traveled its length to a clearing that had a beautiful piece of river running through it. Emily was nibbling on a patch of grass to his left, her saddle still attached to her back. But where was Olivia? Philip dismounted his horse and walked to the river. He found a pile of discarded clothing and boots. Olivia’s. But Olivia was still nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t gone swimming in the nude. It was unseemly! Olivia’s constant disregard for propriety, however, was the least of his concerns at the moment.
Where was she? Had she drowned? Oh God, no! Philip bent down and immediately began removing his boots. He had to get in fast and save her. This was far worse than if she had struck her head. A doctor would have perhaps been able to help repair her, but from drowning, there was no returning to the living world if too much time had passed. He pulled off his cravat, and then, as he was pulling off his coat, Olivia’s head popped out of the water.
Philip’s emotions instantly switched from concerned to angry when he saw that Olivia was smiling. What the blazes was she doing with a smile on her face?
“What the devil do you think you are doing?” Philip bellowed.
Olivia shrieked and sank into the water to hide. “Go away! I’m not dressed.”
“That is precisely my point,” Philip said as he plunged into the water, his coat in his hands. “This is disgraceful.”
“Get away from me,” Olivia yelled as she tried to swim away.
“I thought you were dead, do you realize that?” Philip said, charging towards her.
“I would think my death would be somewhat of a blessing to you,” Olivia snapped, trying desperately to get away from him, but Philip refused to let her get away yet again.
“It would have been my fault,” Philip yelled. He reached out and grabbed Olivia’s arm. “Do you know how worried I’ve been that you’d found your end because of your silly behavior? I’m through with you causing trouble for me today.”
She screamed as he began pulling her out of the water and tried to beat him away with her free hand. “I said get away from me!”
Philip ignored her and threw his coat over her shoulders. “Are you quite aware of how indecent your current behavior is?” Philip asked and began pulling Olivia back to shore.
She clung to his long coat, held it tightly around her shoulders. “Are you quite aware of how indecent you are behaving now?” she asked. “Leave me to dress on my own!”
“So you might run away again? I will do no such thing,” Philip said, the water up to his calves now. “I will give you my back while you dress, but I refuse to leave you alone, not after how you’ve just behaved. And before it occurs to you to escape from me again, know that I shall catch you. I’m quite a fast runner.”
• • •
The thought of dressing near Lord Philip — of being dressed as she was now in a soaking wet chemise — frightened Olivia beyond words. She began slapping at his hand on her arm as she tried to pull herself free, but it only made him pull on her harder. “Stop it, woman!” Philip yelled and turned to grasp her free arm with his. “You are improper on so many other occasions. This time won’t hur — ”
Philip slipped on a slimy patch of the riverbed and fell … taking Olivia with him. He landed on his back, with his lower half in the water, his top half on the sand, and Olivia lying atop both halves. The breath was knocked from both their lungs and they coughed for air. In what appeared to be an unthinking reaction, Philip wrapped his arms around Olivia’s body and bent his knees so that she was lying between them. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Olivia raised her head from Lord Philip’s chest. “Yes, I believe so,” she answered. Then her breath caught when she looked dow
n into his eyes. She had never before been this close to a man. And she certainly had never ever lain atop one in so scandalous a manner. This was wrong; she had to get away. But after noticing his arms, shoulders and thighs that very morning, touching him now in so intimate a way, and having his arms wrapped around her body was overwhelmingly paralyzing.
Before Olivia could devise a way to exit Lord Philip’s embrace, one of his hands closed over the back of her head, and pulled her mouth down to his.
Chapter Eight
Olivia yelped at the first touch of Lord Philip’s lips. She knew this was wrong. It seemed wrong. Or did it only seem wrong because she had been instructed to believe such behavior was wrong? Part of her felt that this was right. Her mind had become a conflicted place where logic battled passion, even as Lord Philip’s kiss deepened.
Her body shivered, but she was not cold. She knew kissing a man who was not her husband was wrong, but she loved the way his mouth moved over hers, the way his beard-roughened skin felt against her face. She knew lying atop a man who was not her husband was very wrong, indeed, but she was intrigued by the strong and solid feel of his body. He felt so different from the softness that comprised her own body that the very thought sent chills down her back. It was exhilarating.
Her heart was beating thunderously and she had the oddest, yet most pleasant, sensation pulling in the pit of her stomach where hunger usually raged, but it did not feel like hunger at all. It was more like a shocking pang, but it felt as if it needed to be fed. It made her feel restless somehow. What did it mean?
Surrounded by the forceful waves of these new sensations, Olivia forgot about everything. She forgot about herself, propriety, and how she had decided to hate this man forever, along with how eager she had been to escape him earlier this morning. All the hatred she had declared to possess for this man had somehow been changed in an instant to desire with the first touch of his lips. None of it mattered now in light of the passion that he had managed to ignite within her.
Each movement he made was thrilling. Olivia felt his fingers tangle themselves in her hair and pull. She opened her mouth slightly in response and gasped in surprise when his tongue glazed over the crease of her lips, and then she moaned her pleasure when the offending tongue seized the opportunity to slip past her parted lips. She had no idea kissing could be this invasive.
But she liked it. And so she kissed him back again and again as best she could, using his movements as a template for her own unpracticed technique.
Philip’s hands untangled themselves from her hair and began moving seductively up and down her back. His thick wool coat was still wrapped around her body, preventing Olivia from feeling the heat of his touch. She wriggled her arms free of it, suddenly feeling too restricted within its bonds.
He must have realized her desire to be free of the coat because as soon as Olivia freed her arms, he finished the job for her and yanked the garment away from her body completely. She moved her newly freed hands to the collar of his shirt and pulled. Though she did not mean for it to happen, her action caused the first two buttons to pop off. Without thinking, Olivia slid her hands inside Philip’s shirt and over the skin of his shoulders. The muscles there were tensed and solid and gloriously masculine. She dug her nails into his skin when he began kissing her jaw and then her neck.
His hands were moving over her body again — up and down her back and then finally over the curve of her buttocks. He squeezed her roughly before rolling over so that their positions were changed, and he was the one lying atop her now, between her legs.
But now the sensations were too much for Olivia.
Her chemise was pushed up past her knees and she was wearing only thin undergarments beneath. She could feel, with the most sensitive and sacred part of her body, a curious hardness pressing against her, and she did not like it. Was it part of his clothes? Was it part of him? Whatever it was, it was far too foreign and frightening for comfort.
Olivia pulled her mouth away from his and tried to push him away with her hands. “Stop,” she said as she gasped for air, but he did not hear her. He kept pressing his body against hers. Olivia’s passion was changing quickly now to fear. He was being far too rough with her now. “Stop,” she said again, this time at a higher volume, and Lord Philip stopped moving at once.
His breathing was very heavy for a few moments before he whispered: “Good God, what have I done?” But he did not move.
Olivia dug her feet into the ground and tried desperately to push her body out from under Lord Philip’s. What did he mean by “What have I done”? Was she with child now? Olivia had no way of knowing exactly how a woman conceived, but she imagined what she and Lord Philip had just finished doing was part of the process. But at what point during all the petting and kissing did a woman fall with child? Oh God, she begged in silent prayer, please don’t let me have got with child!
Once she was free of Lord Philip’s embrace, she made a mad dash for his coat. “Stay away from me!” she yelled.
• • •
Philip was sitting back on his knees, his head spinning from the reality of what had just happened. He had kissed and touched a woman with whom he did not have the right to such liberties. And worse: that woman had been Miss Olivia Winter, the daughter of his business partner. Good God, how could he have abandoned his senses so thoroughly?
Because she was wet and warm and willing, he thought. Because she smelled wonderful and felt wonderful and looked wonderful.
Philip rose to his feet and noticed that as he pulled himself up from the ground, Olivia backed away from him.
“Olivia,” he pleaded, and stretched out his hands in surrender. “Olivia, please. We need to discuss what just happened.”
Olivia’s grip on Philip’s coat tightened as though she believed it would protect her against him.
“I do not wish to discuss anything with you,” she said hotly, and walked backwards towards her discarded clothes. “You disgust me! You are the most disgusting, arrogant — ”
“Man you’ve ever met in your entire life,” he finished. “Yes, yes, I know. But, Olivia, please, we really must talk.”
“No!” she shouted. “Leave me alone, you … you … beast!”
Philip suddenly spotted a log behind Olivia, directly in her path. “Olivia, stop,” he said, before she tripped over it. But she misunderstood his meaning.
“I will call you whatever I wish, you braggart!”
“Olivia, turn around,” Philip said sternly and pointed to the ground behind her. “There is a — ”
“I dare not turn my back on you! You would only try to attack me again, you bru — ”
Olivia tripped over the log. Philip saw her left heel catch the log first, and, as she fell backwards over it, he rushed to her aid.
She turned her body, apparently trying to catch herself with her hands instead of landing on her backside, and as he reached her, he tried to prevent her fall by grabbing her arm. But unfortunately, he pulled a bit too forcefully and too quickly. Olivia’s now-wedged foot twisted, and her ankle made an audible crack.
• • •
Olivia collapsed at once from the pain. “Oh, no,” Philip said as he helped her to sit on the ground. “Oh, no, I am so very sorry, Olivia. Are you hurt?”
Olivia looked up at him as she rubbed the offended leg. Her face was bright red and her eyes were full of tears. Yes, Philip realized, she was in pain. Silly question, you fool.
“Is it your leg?” he asked.
Olivia shook her head.
“Your ankle?”
Olivia nodded as tears began to drip from her eyes.
God, where would it end? Would he ever stop bringing pain upon her? He should leave her now before any more harm befell her as a result of his presence. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he should learn to avoid her forever. But before he did that, he needed to tackle the problem of dressing her and getting her back to Whistler Manor, from where a doctor could be summoned to tend to her ankle.<
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“Wait here,” Philip ordered.
“Where could I go?” Olivia asked mockingly, the pain of her ankle as evident in her voice as her sarcasm.
“Right,” Philip said. Of course she couldn’t move. “Well, then don’t try to move. I’ll be right back.”
He rushed over to her discarded clothes and riding boots and scooped them up into his arms.
“Can you dress?” he asked after he crouched down beside her and deposited her clothes on the ground next to her.
“Yes,” she said curtly and reached for her high-collared shirt.
“Do you need me to help at all?”
Olivia looked up at him instantly, fury burning in her eyes. “No, I do not require your help! You have done quite enough already. Go away.”
“I cannot leave you in such a state to find your way back to the Manor.”
“I will manage without you, my lord.”
So they were back to formalities, Philip noted. So be it.
“Miss Winter,” Philip said gently when he noticed her face twisting in pain as she moved her arm through its corresponding sleeve. “I apologize for what has just transpired between us. We shall discuss it when your ankle has been tended and you feel more comfortable. For now, however, we must focus on getting you back to your home as quickly as possible. You cannot walk, that much is clear, and you cannot possibly hoist yourself into your saddle. You may not want me to help you dress, but you need my assistance getting back.”
She must have conceded the point because she did not refuse his offer to act as escort back to Whistler at once. Instead, she was silent for a moment before yelling: “Then turn around!”
Stephanie James Page 9