Led Astray by a Rake (18 page)

B
assingthorpe Church bells were ringing. Their sound was sweet and slightly off-key, just as it had been for hundreds of years. Lord Lacey and his new bride stood on the porch, smiling and receiving congratulations from their families and guests and well-wishers. Olivia looked more beautiful than ever in her deep cream silk dress and matching cream slippers, her fair hair fastened up with flowers and pearls, while the ribbons sewn upon her skirt fluttered in the gentle breeze. Her wicked husband wore midnight blue, with a white satin waistcoat, and he looked darkly handsome enough for any woman.

Yes, Estelle thought, they made a fine couple.

She slipped her hand into Abbot’s. At her warm touch, he glanced down at her and returned her smile. They’d been married in Bassingthorpe Church, too, although their ceremony had been a great deal less extravagant and well attended than this one. Nevertheless, Estelle was now Mrs. Abbot and was moving to live at Castle Lacey, where she would be Olivia’s personal maid.

Until her pregnancy became too obvious.

Estelle was determined to keep it a secret as long as she could, but she was comforted by the thought that Lord Lacey was unlikely to be traveling abroad and taking Abbot with him when he was so recently married. Of course, there was the honeymoon and a few weeks to spend in London, but Estelle and Abbot would be accompanying them for that. It would be their honeymoon, too—in a way.

“Everything has worked out perfectly,” she said.

He squeezed her fingers. “Yes, it has. Lord Lacey, who swore he would never marry, is married to a proper lady like Miss Olivia, and he and Lady Lacey are speaking again after all these years.” His voice took on a sarcastic edge. “It’s quite like a fairy-tale ending.”

Estelle pinched his sleeve. “You sound as if you don’t believe it’ll last.”

“No,” he said, with a sigh. “I don’t see how it can. There are too many possibilities for disaster, my dear. You don’t know the Laceys like I do.”

But Estelle refused to be downhearted. “I may not know the Laceys, but I do know Miss Olivia,” she said firmly. “She won’t allow any disasters. You wait and see.”

Abbot knew when to give in. “I’m sure you’re right, Estelle.”

Estelle had spied Theodore Garsed and his brother, and nudged Abbot as the man approached the Laceys. He had such a benevolent look on his
face, as if he was truly overjoyed for them. How strange, thought Estelle, when everyone knew he’d wanted Olivia for himself.

When she mentioned this to Abbot, he shrugged and suggested that perhaps Mr. Garsed was a genuinely good man, who wished for the best for the woman he’d loved. But Abbot was such a simpleton when it came to human nature that Estelle didn’t believe it for a moment.

Mr. Garsed wasn’t a good man, she decided, after she’d observed him when he thought no one else was watching. But he was a very good actor.

Theodore showed his teeth, saying all the right things. He was edgy and anxious. Alphonse had told him what he’d done—his brother could never keep anything to himself. The worst of it was Alphonse seemed to think Theodore would be pleased with him! Thankfully there’d been no repercussions; it hadn’t even been mentioned to him by anyone in the village, which was a fair indication that Nic and Olivia hadn’t spoken of it to anyone else. He was hoping they’d pushed it from their minds.

“Do you want me to stop, then?” Alphonse had mocked, eyes narrowed. “They do make a lovely couple.”

“Of course I want you to stop! Alphonse, for God’s sake, you can’t do something like this. I—I understand you want to help, but this isn’t the way
to do it. If you’re caught you’ll be hanged. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Then I won’t be caught, brother.”

“You may have misjudged Lacey,” Mr. Monteith said to his wife. “He has behaved very gentlemanly.”

“If he hadn’t caused this scandal by ruining our daughter in the first place—” his wife hissed, a bitter droop to her mouth.

“Shush, you will be heard…”

She looked unrepentant, but he noticed she glanced about her to see if anyone was standing close enough to have caught any of her outburst. Mr. Monteith knew that in his world of business, appearance was everything, and the merest hint of scandal could cause one to be ostracized by customers and friends alike.

“I can’t forget what happened to Sarah,” his wife said in a bleak tone. “We should have spoken of it to Olivia and then this would never have happened.”

“Sarah is in the past,” he said, a trifle impatiently. “We agreed it was best.”

“You agreed!”

“You know what would have happened if there was the slightest whisper of Sarah and—and her behavior. The business was going through a difficult time. We would have lost everything. We promised we would not speak of this again, my dear.”

She nodded, her head drooping. “I’m sorry. It was just seeing Olivia. It reminded me.” She turned to stare at him a little wildly as another thought occurred to her. “And how can you be sure this won’t end badly? Olivia is such a sweet, innocent girl. He will hurt her. Before long she’ll be regretting marrying him. Mr. Garsed is such a good man. Oh, Mr. Monteith, I know Sarah wouldn’t listen to me, but I do so wish Olivia had!”

“Hush, my dear.” With a sigh, Mr. Monteith held her close. Across the churchyard his gaze rested on his remaining daughter and her new husband. Was his wife right? Was this marriage a disaster in the making? And yet Nic Lacey, elegant, aristocratic, was keeping a close eye on Olivia, and there was something in his manner that spoke of more than mere convenience. Mr. Monteith decided he wouldn’t be at all surprised if this turned out to be a love match after all.

The house in which the Laceys spent the first days and nights of their honeymoon was owned by friends of Nic’s, who were away in Scotland. The house, which stood on the Thames, up from Richmond, was empty apart from a small army of servants, so Nic and Olivia were more or less left to their own devices.

At first the house appeared huge and unfriendly, and Olivia hadn’t known what to expect on their first night, but the intimate dinner in the dining room was close to perfect. The servants
delivered the dishes like shadows, vanishing again and leaving the couple alone. Olivia was tired—from their wedding and from soothing her mother, who persisted in believing her daughter was now lost to her forever, and then from their journey here. It wasn’t long before she was blinking sleepily over her meal, while Nic leaned back in his chair, watching her over the rim of his glass.

“Tired, minx?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, or tried to.

“No regrets?”

“’Tis a little early yet, m’lord.”

He gave a low laugh. “Ever the cautious Olivia.”

“I would say I have been very incautious, my lord. Wildly incautious, in fact. Have you forgotten how incautious I can be?”

He laughed aloud this time and rose to his feet, coming around to pull back her chair. As she straightened her skirts he strolled toward the door, pausing to stretch. She watched him raise his arms above his head, his body arching gracefully, the muscles of buttocks and thighs tightening, and suddenly she was no longer tired. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes glowing in the candlelight, his mouth curled in a smile that promised much.

“Coming to bed, Olivia?” he said in a voice that dripped like honey. “This is our first night as husband and wife. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

His dark eyes gleamed. “I wonder if it will feel different. Do you think it will? Now that our union has been sanctioned by God and man.”

Olivia considered it, and then she smiled. “Why don’t we find out?”

Nic held out his hand.

A tremor began in her belly, spreading outward, making her flesh tingle and burn. Her fingers clung to his, and slowly, purposefully, he drew her into his arms. He ran his hand down her back and curled it about her waist. When his mouth closed on hers it was warm and rough, but she liked that. It showed her he wasn’t as controlled as he liked to pretend, that he cared about her, that she unsettled him in a way he wasn’t used to.

He cupped her face, running his fingers up into her hair, enjoying the silky texture. Nic began to take out her hairpins, one by one, tossing them aside all over the floor. Olivia protested, but he only smiled. Her hair tumbled down about her shoulders, and he gathered it to him, pressing his face to the soft, scented strands.

Olivia pulled apart the knot of his neck cloth, opening it so that she could touch her mouth to the hollow of his throat. She curled her fingers about the muscular column of his neck, and felt his hands slide into the dip of her waist, down to cup her bottom. Suddenly he brought her hips hard against him, so that she could feel just how ready for her he was.

That familiar languorous pleasure spread through her veins and muscles, making her skin
feel as if it didn’t quite belong to her. Her breasts ached and tightened at the tips, and the flesh between her legs grew achy and swollen. The promise of pleasure was so exquisite she couldn’t have turned back if she tried.

With her hand in his, Nic led her up the grand curving staircase, pausing every few steps so that he could kiss her. It took them a long time to reach the landing. Once there, he leaned her against the balustrade, and while she arched dizzyingly over the hall below, bent to lap at her breasts, easing down her bodice so that he could suck at the peaks.

By the time he drew her safely back into his arms she was trembling and gasping. He drew up her skirts as she clung to him, his hands running over her stockings and stroking her bare thighs, before reaching around to clasp the soft cheeks of her bottom. His mouth was open against her breasts and she moaned, pulling his head down to her.

They stumbled around the corner into the wide corridor, and he pressed her against the wall, lifting her in his arms so that the only way she could keep her balance was for her legs to clasp his hips and her hands to cling to his shoulders. Between her thighs she could feel his body hard against her softness, sending teasing shivers of pleasure through her as he rotated his hips.

She kissed his face, warm butterfly kisses, before she reached his mouth. He groaned, and lifting her away from the wall, carried her through the
bedchamber door and into their room. They fell upon the bed, and a moment later he was inside her.

“Don’t wait,” she gasped, moving against him.

Nic had no intention of waiting. He thrust deeply, once, twice, and she shattered. A moment later he cried out hoarsely, as he reached his own climax.

They lay, panting, and then Nic threw back his head and howled like a wolf. Olivia, gasping, laughing, tried to cover his mouth with her hands, but he rolled over, taking her with him. When he stopped she was lying on top of him, rumpled and flushed, with her eyes dancing.

“They can hear you in the servants’ rooms.”

“Good.”

“Don’t you care?”

“You’re Lady Lacey now. Lady Lacey doesn’t care what the servants think. Lady Lacey is above such things.”

She smiled, but her eyes were serious. “I don’t think I can ever be that arrogant, Nic. I wasn’t brought up to be Lady Lacey.”

“In time it will come as naturally to you as being Miss Monteith.”

Perhaps so, but Olivia couldn’t see herself ever becoming like Nic’s mother, nor would she want to. She would be the chatelaine of Castle Lacey, but she would do it her own way.

“What are you thinking?”

She ran her fingertip over his lips, smiling. “I’m thinking that we’ve been married for one day.”

“So we have.” He caught her finger between his teeth, biting gently.

“And I’m wondering if we will still feel like this in a year. Two years. Twenty years.”

He released her, turning on his side and gently sliding her off him and into the bed beside him. She propped her head on her hand and watched him. Already she could see the change her words had caused in him, and it worried her. He was uneasy at the thought of all those years with her, with one woman, and he couldn’t hide it.

“I can’t make promises,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen too many unhappy marriages to do that.”

“Was that the reason you didn’t want to get married?” Olivia asked him, settling down against the pillows.

Nic shrugged. “Probably. Even people you believe are destined never to stray can surprise you. Disappoint you.”

He was talking about someone in particular, and Olivia wondered who it was. She was tempted to ask, but she knew he wouldn’t tell her. Nic was the keeper of his own secrets.

She was watching him with that clear blue gaze, like a child seeking knowledge. Nic found her openness disconcerting. His own life was very different, and now he had the added burden of protecting his wife from truths that would hurt her.

He didn’t want her hurt.

His leg was aching and he longed to rub it, but she would see and be concerned. He’d feel like a cripple, and Nic didn’t want that. He wanted her to see him as the strong one. Carefully, surreptitiously, he stretched his thigh muscle, trying to ease it without her noticing.

But of course she did.

“Your leg is hurting you,” she said matter-of-factly. “What do you usually do to help?”

Nic heard himself laugh, and was surprised he could. “Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking, Olivia?”

“Yes, nearly always.” She moved gracefully onto her knees and edged down toward his leg. Gently she reached out and rested her hand upon him, glancing back at his face and raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“I rub it,” he admitted, the words grudging.

“Like this?” She curled her fingers, kneading at his hard flesh. The scar on his thigh from the injury was long and thin, barely noticeable for something so serious, and she worked along it. He lay back, watching her. Her face was taut with concentration, and she stopped to tuck her hair out of the way. He wondered if she even remembered she was half naked, her breasts jiggling as she moved, the sheen of her skin like soft gold in the candlelight.

Nic thought about reaching out and touching her, but then he realized the ache in his leg was gradually diminishing, his muscles relaxing. Her touch soothed him in other ways, too, ways he
didn’t understand yet. He closed his eyes—just for a moment, he told himself.