“Violet,” he clarified. “Gone early this morning, back to London. Olivia remains in the home that was let by Rothcastle.”
Liam let out a long sigh. “Why do you track their movements?” he asked. “I don’t want to know.”
Mal clenched his fists at his sides and through clenched teeth he admitted a very painful truth. “I want to fucking know.”
He swept up his plate and sat down at the table. Immediately he pushed the unwanted food aside and clenched a fist in front of him. Liam was staring at him. Just staring.
“Why?” Liam asked.
Mal felt the heat go out of him, replaced by something far sharper and more painful. For the first time, he fully understood why Liam was always so disgruntled. It did protect one from the pain.
“I told you I loved Olivia a few days ago,” he said. “In the heat of an angry moment.”
“Was that a lie?” Liam asked softly.
He rubbed his face. “It was never a lie. It was just utterly stupid. I do love her.”
Liam didn’t look surprised. Just filled with pity.
“And how is that utterly stupid?” his friend asked.
Mal shook his head. “Come, Liam, she was as much a part of this deception as Violet was. She came here to keep me from developing suspicions about her friend. I was just a pawn in their game.”
Liam seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Let me ask you a question.”
Mal shrugged.
“Would you lie for me?” his friend asked.
Mal jerked his gaze up. “What?”
“If I asked you to lie, would you?”
Malcolm hardly had to consider the question. “Yes.”
“In fact, you have lied for me in the past, haven’t you?” Liam lifted his eyebrows.
Malcolm understood his question, but rolled his eyes. “Yes, but that is different.”
“Probably not to those you lied to.” Liam shook his head. “If Violet ever told me the truth, and I think there were times when she did, then the bond she and Olivia share is powerful, very powerful.”
“And so that means I should forgive?” Mal said slowly, not wanting to give in to this line of logic when everything in him screamed that he had been betrayed and made a fool.
“What you do is up to you,” Liam said. “But the fact that Olivia didn’t go back to London with Violet says a great deal to me about where she stands.”
Mal bit out a bitter laugh. “Perhaps she thinks she can get something from me.”
Liam shook his head. “Weren’t you the one who told me if I wanted to die miserable and alone, that was my prerogative, but that you didn’t approve? Seems you might wish to follow your own advice.”
Mal rolled his eyes. “Says the man who has been in hiding for years.”
“Well, do as I say, not as I do.” Liam gave a thin smile. “At least go talk to the girl, Mal. At least let her explain. Unlike Violet, she didn’t orchestrate this mess. And she stayed. As I said, that has to mean something.”
“I’ll consider it,” Mal said, but the thought of doing so brought him a flood of confusing emotions. Part of him never wanted to face Olivia again.
But part of him—most of him, nearly all of him—needed to do just as his friend said. Whether to get her out of his system or to keep her there forever was something that remained to be seen.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia looked around the small bedroom in the home she had let in Bath just that very morning and sighed.
“It will do,” she said, more to herself than to Belle, who was hanging her things in the small wardrobe.
Her maid looked at her. “May I ask why we didn’t simply stay in the other home? Miss Violet said the Rothcastles had let it for the entire month.”
Olivia couldn’t blame Belle for the question. After all, her servant now had a tiny room in a drafty hall below stairs.
“I’m sorry the accommodations aren’t as lavish as they were,” she said. “But I am determined that Malcolm see I am not taking any further part in Violet’s scheme. Staying at the home the Rothcastles let would undermine that vision.”
Belle lifted her eyebrows slightly but continued her unpacking. “The boy you sent said he delivered your note to Mr. Graham.”
Olivia stiffened. Her early morning hours had been spent saying goodbye to Violet and arranging for her new accommodations, but she’d also written the first in what she assumed would be a long series of letters to Malcolm, asking him to see her so she could explain and including the new address where he could call on her.
“Thank you,” she said. “At least it was accepted; I suppose that is all I can expect from the first note. I shall write him again this afternoon.”
Her maid had seen her through all her protectors and normally didn’t raise a brow at her behavior, but now she straightened up. “So soon?”
Olivia hesitated. In truth she was uncertain about her plan to contact Malcolm twice a day until he agreed to see her, but she had to do something.
“Nothing ventured…” she murmured, but she could hardly believe her own words. There might be nothing left to gain.
Before the conversation could go further, there was a knock on the chamber door. Belle opened it to reveal their new housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins. The older woman was a jolly, friendly sort.
“Good afternoon, Miss, there is a gentleman to see you.”
Olivia gasped, exchanging a brief glance with her maid before she whispered, “His name?”
“Mr. Graham, he said it was,” the housekeeper said. “Malcolm Graham.”
Malcolm wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his trouser front and leaned uncomfortably against the narrow mantel. The parlor was small and he felt giant in it. Out of place.
And wasn’t he? He shouldn’t even be here.
The door opened and he turned, catching his breath as Olivia took a step inside and slowly shut the door behind her. God, she was lovelier than he had allowed himself to remember. Her blonde locks were wispy around her pale face and her dark eyes locked on him.
“Malcolm,” she whispered, “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
He nodded, staring at her still, unable to tear his eyes away. He had come here with the intention of ranting, railing, demanding answers, but now that he was here, now that he saw her, all that seemed to fade away. He only wanted one thing now. One thing that had nothing to do with her explanations, with his future.
“I wanted to tell you—” she began.
He interrupted her by crossing the room in three long steps and caught her in his arms. His mouth was on hers, hard and insistent.
She stood frozen for a moment, but then she melted against him, her arms coming around his back, her fingers clenching hard through his clothes. She made a low moan in the back of her throat and he lost all reason.
He tugged at her gown, loosening buttons, popping a few off completely, but he didn’t care. She didn’t seem to care either, for she never broke their kiss and she joined him in the frenzy of clothing removal. When her dress was around her ankles, he cupped her backside and picked her up, carrying her across the room and pressing her hard to the wall next to the fire.
She had been working at removing his shirt, but he ignored that and went straight for his trouser buttons. His cock already strained at the fabric and had been since the moment she walked into the room, so it was difficult to get the hooks loose. When he did, his erection bobbed free and he breathed a sigh of relief at the end of constriction.
But relief turned to pleasure as she reached down to cup his hardness, stroking him a few times.
“Malcolm,” she whispered.
He silenced her with another kiss, opening her legs, stroking her sex and finding it wet, then positioning himself at her entrance. He glided forward into her tight body and turned his face away from hers with a heavy moan of deepest pleasure. He wanted her with a power that took his breath away.
He braced one hand on the wall behind her and held her backsid
e against him with the other and stroked into her. She made a gasping, keening sound and her body fluttered around him.
He smiled at her responsiveness and then began to take her in earnest. He didn’t slow down, he didn’t offer her respite, he didn’t do anything except drive toward mutual orgasm with as much speed and pleasure as he could manage. He circled his hips, he lifted her with his thrusts and, finally, with a cry that filled the air, she moaned in pleasure. Her body rocked out of control against him, her legs shaking, her breath broken.
Her body milked him with her orgasm and he felt his seed move. Gently, he set her aside and spent away from her.
As he wiped his hand on a handkerchief, he looked at her. She had smoothed her chemise over her body and was watching him with a frown.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “There was no physical pain.”
He flinched, for that left the question open for other kinds of pain. Of course, he felt those too. And hadn’t she been the one to cause it?
He tugged his trousers back up around his hips and buttoned his half-open shirt. As he fixed himself, she continued to watch him. Finally, she drew a short breath.
“Did you come here to talk to me?” she asked. “To hear me out?”
He faced her, straightening his shoulders, hardening his expression. But he couldn’t fully harden his heart. When he looked at her, he felt both a huge swell of love and a stab of betrayal and pain. At the moment, the pain was strong, almost as powerful as the love.
He turned away. “I don’t know why I came here,” he admitted.
Olivia couldn’t help the sharp intake of air at his answer to her question. She just wished she didn’t have to feel the anguish that accompanied it. She had been so hopeful when Mal showed up at her door. She had dared to believe that he had come here to hear her out.
Instead, it seemed he had only come here to fuck her. Was that a pleasure or a punishment?
She carefully gathered her composure and whispered, “Mal, I want to tell you my side of the story.”
She had hardly gotten the words out that he began to shake his head in the negative.
“Not yet, not yet,” he muttered as he made for the door.
She took a few steps after him. “You say ‘not yet’—does that mean you’ll come back?”
He paused at the door and looked at her briefly. She couldn’t stop her lip from trembling or the tears that kept stinging her eyes. But she could lift her chin and straighten her shoulders and show him some tiny bit of strength.
“Yes,” he finally admitted in a rough and broken voice. “I’ll come back tomorrow night.”
She nearly buckled with relief. She could see his emotion and that meant he still cared for her. He was hurt, but what they had wasn’t entirely broken. Still she pushed him, challenged him. Because she loved him and she wasn’t about to give up so easily.
“When you return, will it only be to bed me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Will you turn me away?”
She met his stare, holding it until she sensed his discomfort. “I would never turn you away, Malcolm Graham. Even if I have to wait a year or ten years. I’ll be here, waiting for you to hear me. And some day you will hear me. Only then will we be able to decide where we go from here.”
He swallowed hard and hesitated for a very long moment. Then he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Olivia.”
And he left her standing alone and half-naked, with only a flickering ember of hope to keep her warm.
“Your sister has arrived in Bath,” Malcolm said without preamble as he stepped into the doorway to Liam’s office.
Liam kept his eyes on the ledger before him, but there was no doubting his tension when he said, “It has been nearly three days since Violet left. I’m surprised it took Ava this long. I assume she will knock on my door before the afternoon is over.”
“Violet is with her,” Malcolm said, watching his friend carefully.
Liam had said very little about the women who had crushed them both less than half a week before. But he saw the pain around his friend’s eyes as surely as he felt the same around his own heart. The difference was, he knew where Olivia was. Against his better judgment, he could see her whenever he liked.
“Why?” Liam finally asked.
Malcolm shrugged. “My spies do not go so far, Windbury.”
Liam arched a brow. “No? Not even Olivia Cranfield?”
Malcolm jerked in surprise. His visits to Olivia over the past three days had been done quietly and Liam was so lost he hadn’t known his friend was aware. But now Liam nodded before he continued speaking.
“Yes, I had speculated you’ve been seeing her, sneaking out at night to meet with her.”
Malcolm entered the room now and slowly took a place at the desk across from Liam.
“Do you judge that as a betrayal?” he asked softly.
Liam was quiet for a moment, then he shook his head. “I told you myself to go to her, to hear her.”
Mal stiffened. He hadn’t exactly been doing that. He had made love to Olivia, but he always stopped her from telling him her motives in what she’d done. It was unfair and he knew that, even as he did it.
Liam continued, “I believe my misery has extended to everyone else in my life, especially you, for far too long, my friend. If you care for her, if you love her as you told me you did…then love her. Be with her. You have my blessing if you require it.”
Mal tensed. He did care for Olivia. He did love her. And the days since her betrayal hadn’t lessened that feeling. He feared nothing ever would.
And if he was bound to love her for the rest of his life, didn’t he owe it to her to finally let her speak?
“I don’t need your approval, actually, but I appreciate it nonetheless, as well as your graciousness regarding the situation.”
“I suppose I’m making up for lost time in the grace department,” Liam said with a humorless chuckle. “Olivia must have explanations that soothe you, for you were so very angry with her just a few days ago for her part in Violet’s deception.”
Mal nodded. “I was. But I also understand the sacrifices one makes for a friend one loves like a sibling.”
The two men met gazes and Liam nodded, taking his friend’s meaning completely. “You probably understand that better than most, I would wager.”
Mal smiled. He did understand that, for he had spent a great many years protecting Liam from himself. But it seemed that time was coming to an end. His friend looked healthier and more equipped to face his past than ever. His lack of resistance to his sister’s arrival proved that.
So it was time for Malcolm to create his own life. And as they continued talking, all he could think about was going to Olivia, not just to take the body she offered, but to truly resolve the barriers that had been erected between them. And he could only hope that they weren’t so high that they were insurmountable.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia rushed through the streets of Bath, her heart racing. It had only been fifteen minutes since her maid delivered the news, but it felt like every step took an eternity. Finally, she rapped on the familiar door of the townhome the Rothcastles had let for Violet just a few weeks ago and waited with very little patience for a servant to answer.
It was one of the many maids who did so.
“Hello, Miss Olivia,” she said with a welcoming smile.
“I have heard Miss Violet has returned— Is that true?” she asked.
The girl took in her disheveled appearance and her panting breaths and ushered her into the foyer, out of the cutting spring breeze.
“Yes, miss,” the girl said. “They arrived just this morning and—”
“Will you tell her I’m here?”
The servant nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. Will you wait in the parlor?”
Olivia nodded, but instead of doing so, she followed the girl up the stairs and down the hall. The girl began to announc
e her, but Olivia couldn’t stand it any longer.
She stepped toward the servant and the poor maid moved aside, knowing when she had been beaten, and allowed Olivia to pass into Violet’s chamber.
“Olivia!” her friend cried and the two women embraced as the maid shut the door behind them.
Without speaking, they moved to the window seat and perched there together.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Olivia asked.
Violet shook her head. “I didn’t know where you were. When we arrived and we were told you’d left this residence, I didn’t have a thought of where to write. I didn’t dare send a message to Liam’s home, even if you were there.”
Olivia dropped her chin to cover the pain that accompanied that very wrong assumption. “No, I’m not there. I let a smaller place almost as soon as you departed. I didn’t want Malcolm to see me staying here, in case he thought I was still under the direction of the Rothcastles. Of you.”
“Of course,” Violet said with a shake of her head. “And has he decided that is true? Will he see you?”
Olivia nodded. “Yes. He comes to me every night.”
“Excellent!” Violet clapped her hands together. “Then my actions didn’t permanently damage his regard for you. I feared I had destroyed your chance for happiness.”
Olivia cleared her throat and heat flooded her cheeks as she admitted, “He comes to me, but he is changed. I feel him holding back. And when I try to explain myself, when I try to tell him my heart, he only distracts me in the most pleasurable ways. And then leaves me before the night is over.”
It was amazing the relief that accompanied such a humiliating admission. But she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone else about it. Belle was kind, of course, and discreet, but the fact that she was a servant kept a wall between them. With Violet she could be completely truthful.
Of course, at the moment Violet looked very guilty as her smile faded. “He wouldn’t come if he didn’t feel something for you. He is conflicted.”
“Yes, I’m certain that is true. But what side of the conflict he will come out on is another story entirely,” Olivia said, thinking of how passionately and tenderly he had made love to her the past three nights. But also how quickly he had left her, denying her the ability to connect with him on anything but a physical level. It was like they were stuck and couldn’t break free of the lies that had separated them.
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