Miss Goldsleigh's Secret (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

She wasn’t in her room. A maid had verified it. She also wasn’t in Warren’s. Warren was sound asleep, his splinted and wrapped arm propped up on a pillow and his legs tangled in the sheets and blankets. Dalton peered into the velvet darkness, but he didn’t see Olivia next to the bed or seated in the chair nearby.

“Miss Goldsleigh,” he called out in a loud whisper to make certain. “Olivia.”
Damn
.

Since someone followed him to Morewether’s, had someone else stayed here to watch Miss Goldsleigh? Had they snatched her after the ladies went to bed? Dalton stood in the hall and stared at nothing as he worked his way through what to do next. He systematically checked each of his sister’s rooms and all of them were accounted for, sound asleep in their beds right where they were supposed to be. So whoever took her did it after everyone went to bed. After he left the house.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Dalton strode swiftly back along the hall and loped down the stairs to talk with Siegfried. Together they’d rouse the footmen and start with a systematic search of the windows and doors, then a thorough canvassing of the grounds of the townhouse by torchlight for any clue as to how the villains got in.

He resisted the urge to panic. There was no point in awakening his family. They wouldn’t be able to help and of course they
would
panic, which would set off a whole cavalcade of hysteria.

There was the ominous
they
again. When he got his hands on them,
they
were going to wish they were dead. Dalton concentrated on channeling his panic to fury. He refused to allow himself to think of sweet, tiny Miss Goldsleigh… No. Simply saying you weren’t going to think about it always caused you to think about it. She was a resourceful girl. He’d find her and get her back.

He rounded the corner to his study and stopped. The light was on. The glow of a lamp shown through the space at the floor. He didn’t have a weapon, but he could be assured the thief in his private rooms would have one, maybe even his own gun he kept locked in the bottom desk drawer. Looking around, Dalton grabbed a Greek statue off a pedestal, a woman garbed in a toga-like gown with her arm raised high. He should be able to do some damage with that if he got a chance.

He listened with his ear against the wood but could hear nothing. Dalton threw open the door and charged into the room, Grecian lady at the ready. The only other person in the room whirled from the desk and screamed in surprise. Her long hair fanned out behind her when she spun.

Olivia clutched at her heart. “Oh my God! You scared me half to death.”

Dalton lowered his arm and the Grecian lady with it. “What are you doing in here?” His tone was much harsher than he intended. What he wanted to do was crush her gorgeous body to his and kiss her until his heart started beating in a normal rhythm again.

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to intrude into your private room.” She clasped her hands underneath her breasts, which served to draw his gaze there like a magnet.

“What are you wearing?” he demanded. “For God’s sake, Miss Goldsleigh, you can’t be running around a man’s house in the middle of the night wearing flimsy nightgowns.”

Olivia looked down at her night rail. The plain white cotton gown buttoned up to her neck, and a dainty pink ribbon tied in a bow closed the top at her throat. At the bottom, ruffles barely allowed for her slippered toes to peek out from under the hem. Additionally, a thicker pale-pink cotton robe embroidered with flowers covered the gown. The fact that she was more covered in her current attire than she was in the blasted evening gown from earlier did nothing to rein in his imagination. These were the clothes she wore in bed. In bed, for heaven’s sake.

Olivia’s eyes beseeched him. Damn azure-blue eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord. Truly. It wasn’t my intent to disturb your peace.” She moved away from the desk. “I’ll go back to my room.”

“Disturb my peace.” He snorted and caught her by the arm as she tried to skirt past him. “My peace has most definitely been disturbed.”

Olivia looked at his hand gripping her arm above her elbow. “I don’t know how else to say how sorry I am for coming into your study uninvited, my lord. Your sisters explained it was your sanctuary, and I was wrong to come here.”

Dalton did not release her arm. He liked holding her, even if it was just an elbow. He liked holding her a hell of a lot better than searching for her kidnapped body. “So why are you here in the middle of the night? In my private room? In your nightclothes? Why aren’t you in bed?”
My bed.

Olivia blushed but didn’t try to pull her arm away. “Please don’t be angry at me when I tell you.”

Angry
? Was she in cahoots with the man who followed him tonight? Was letting her in his house a huge mistake? Whether or not she had designs on robbing his house, letting her in had been a terrible error in judgment.

Dalton’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “That remains to be seen, Miss Goldsleigh, but I can assure you I will be more angry if I have to work to get the truth out of you.”

Her adorable little chin came up in a look of defiance, and she wrenched her elbow out of his grip. “I dare say no matter what I tell you, it will make you angry. I’ve already apologized for invading your private room.”

Dalton placed both fists on his hips and stared down at her in a stance that effectively cowed his sisters.

“Do you think to intimidate me with your height, my lord?” She set her hands on her hips in a mockery of him. “When you’re short, you learn not to let tall people get the best of you just by their virtue of height. Everyone is taller than me.”

“Why are you sneaking around my study in the middle of the night?”

“I wasn’t sneaking around.” Her lush mouth formed a defiant line, her lips pursed tightly in annoyance.

“Were you invited into my study?” When she didn’t respond to his question, he took a step closer to her, narrowing the gap. He didn’t believe for one moment she didn’t feel something with him towering above her. She had to. He could feel it. He couldn’t help being impressed when she did not take a step back.

“No, my lord, I was not. As I said, I am sorry for having disturbed your sanctuary. I’ll go back to my room now and vacate your precious study.” She turned on her heel and made as if to march away. Dalton snagged her by the sash of her robe.

“I don’t think so.” He pulled her backwards towards the center of the room. “We have a few things to discuss, you and I.”

Olivia issued an outraged huff and pulled away from him, but he was stronger.

“I wanted to see the bills, all right? That’s why I was in here.” She untied her sash and slipped out of her robe, thinking she could escape him. Lord in Heaven above, that left her in just her nightgown.

“What bills?” He was distracted by the fact that she now appeared before him, an outraged sprite in her flowing white, nightgown. Her breasts heaved against the fabric in her fury.

“The modiste bills,” she bit out. “And the milliner’s and the tailor’s and the haberdasher’s.”

He tore his gaze away from her breasts. A person couldn’t concentrate with that going on right in front of him. “Whatever for?” He stupidly held her robe in one hand, the fabric trailing on the floor.

“So I know precisely how much I owe you.” Olivia hadn’t calmed down at all. Several huge curls had fallen over her shoulder during the tussle and now lay across the breasts that so captivated him. She pushed her hair behind her shoulder with an angry flip of her fingers, and that broke his trance.

“Don’t be ridiculous. How many times do I have to tell you? You owe me nothing.”

“That is simply unacceptable. I will know the amount I owe you so I can pay you back.” She glared up at him in stubborn mutiny. Dear God, she was stunning, contesting his word with her righteous fury. She held her ground like an irate pixie.

“Why can’t you take a gift graciously?”

“A gift? This isn’t a gift. This is ridiculous. A gift.” She snorted.

“Yes, a gift.”

“Let me see the bills and I’ll leave your inner sanctum in peace, never to trouble you here again.”

As long as she’s in my house, she’s going to trouble me.

That thought brought him back to the other issue of the evening.

Dalton realized he was still holding her robe. He peered at it quizzically then tossed it on the leather sofa. “You’ve managed to distract me from the real issue at hand with this nonsense about the bills.”

Olivia shook her head as if trying to clear it of a fog. “I don’t know how many ways I can say I’m sorry for coming in here.”

“Are you in league with others to steal from my house?” Henry didn’t really think it was true—the accusation rang false even to his ears—but what if…?

Olivia’s response was swift and, without a doubt, unrehearsed, her expression one of complete outrage. “You think because I was in here looking… Why would I…? What do you…? I told you I wanted to pay you back, not steal from you.”

“Forget about the room and the invoices for a minute, will you?” Dalton never raised his voice, but this woman tried his patience like even his sisters never had. She was like a damned badger. “I caught a man following me this evening. What do you know about that?”

Olivia closed her gaping mouth and honestly looked perplexed. “Nothing, my lord. Why would I know about that?”

“Because when confronted, he said he was being paid to follow us, you and me.” His gaze narrowed, determined to get to the bottom of this story without letting her fairy charms distract him. “What do you supposed he meant by that?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.” She threw the words back at him, but behind the anger he sensed…fear.

“Are you telling me the truth, Olivia?” They were harsh words, but he must know. He wouldn’t stand for his family to be in danger. The trick worked, and her fear morphed back into anger. If the accusation set off her ire, then it proved to him she wasn’t in cahoots with the man.

“I would never dream of harming Penelope in any way, nor your aunt—”

With the loss of her antagonism, Dalton felt his slip away as well. “I imagine it has something to do with your cousin, don’t you?” he asked in a quiet voice. He considered the idea that having her cousin back in her life would scare her a great deal. Olivia’s reaction was more than he expected, however.

“Reginald?” she said with real horror in her voice. “Why do you think that would have anything to do with him?”

“Gut feeling, I guess.” Dalton feared she might faint again. He clasped her elbow anew in an effort to stabilize her. What in the world had that man done to her to create such fear? “I’ve been making some inquiries.”

Olivia looked at him in sheer terror. “Oh no.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, then pressed them to her cheeks. Olivia seemed to peer off into the distance, as if calculating something.

“Miss Goldsleigh, are you all right?” She didn’t seem to hear him. “I want to assure you I won’t let him get to you.”

“What?” She shook her head and focused on him again. “That’s kind of you, but it won’t help. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can pack up my things, tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“You’re not leaving.” That was nonnegotiable. He couldn’t protect her if she left.

“I appreciate all your kindness, truly I do, but you have to understand, I can’t stay here. Not now. Not if that man was really following me because of my cousin.”

“Miss Goldsleigh, you and Warren will stay here. I can protect you from your cousin. I’ll resolve the issue with your father’s solicitor.” Dalton clasped her hand in his. It was so small it seemed to epitomize all that was Miss Goldsleigh: fragile yet strong. “You have nothing to fear here.”

Olivia laughed, a mirthless noise tinged with hysteria. “Fear?” Her laughter sounded remarkably like sobs before she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Wouldn’t you think I’d be immune to women’s tears by now?
But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be expected to ignore tears of fear. He pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms like he would have done one of his sisters if she were afraid. Except she
wasn’t
his sister.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered. Rubbing her back in small, soothing circles didn’t quiet her tears. “Miss Goldsleigh. Olivia,” he murmured, and changed strategies to stroking her hair. “Everything will be fine.”

The tears didn’t stop, however. He scooped her up in his arms—a movement that was becoming all too familiar. It was three short strides to the long, leather sofa where he settled her in his lap with every intention of consoling her until she ceased crying. The kiss on the top of her head and then on the temple were nothing more than he would have given one of his sisters in the same situation. Although not even his youngest sister would he have settled so cozily in his lap, nor would he have noticed the intoxicating aroma of his sister’s hair. He breathed in Olivia’s scent while crooning senseless words to comfort her.

Delicate, becalming kisses found their way from her forehead to her cheeks and then, ultimately, despite his noble intentions, his lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but calming.

Chapter Fifteen

Olivia couldn’t believe she’d caved into hysteria once again. She hardly recognized herself anymore, although to be fair, her previous life had not lent itself to hysteria-inducing situations.

She was embarrassed to have been caught snooping in Lord Dalton’s study, but it was hardly for the nefarious purposes he’d accused her of. Of course, none of that was any reason to get hysterical.

Reginald. Reginald was a perfect reason to get hysterical. What if the man Lord Dalton spoke of was with the magistrate? That was the only answer that made any sense. They had finally found her and Warren. To make matters worse, Lord Dalton was making inquiries. She had absolutely no idea where to run this time. She had no funds and nothing left to sell and wouldn’t unless Lord Dalton was able to achieve what she wasn’t able to with the solicitor. And now she had the added stress of a brother with a serious injury. Who knew what harm could come to him from traveling in the harsh conditions they would be forced to endure.

She was ashamed to admit she was overwhelmed. She’d accepted the overly generous help offered to her by Lord Dalton and his family and already, in a few short days, she’d come to enjoy the comforts they’d provided. How could she go back to sleeping in the park or—and this was where she’d started to come loose from her moorings—not sleeping in the park. Worse was begging for food and fending off lecherous and repugnant advances from the likes of London’s most loathsome males.

Lord Dalton provided a strong shoulder, and she was too tired from trying to figure out everything on her own to push him away when he hugged her to him. So consumed with her tears, Olivia barely realized he’d scooped her up and cuddled her in his lap until his fingers stroked through her hair and massaged her neck. His whiskered cheek brushed against hers when he feathered a kiss to her temple. She lifted her face to his when he kissed away her tears. Finally, when his lips found hers, she was every bit as much a willing participant as he.

She didn’t know when her gasping breaths ceased being due to her sobbing and instead came from her arousal, but the change was seamless. His kiss was everything the groping, grasping Reginald’s was not. Lord Dalton’s kiss ripened slowly in heat and intensity, born from a sweet compassion, a desire to comfort, and growing into fiery passion meant to incite. Soft, his lips drifted across hers, then again before settling at the center of her bottom lip. His mouth covered hers, dear and gentle, kissing her over and over until her lips parted and moved with his. By the time his tongue stroked hers, she was lost.

How long had she wanted him to kiss her? From the first when she thought he was an angel? When she revised her opinion and thought his physique more like that of a god? Or was it during their dance this evening with his flattering insinuations of beauty? Perhaps all of those times, but certainly now, when he towered over her trying to intimidate her with his height, she wanted to kiss him back. She didn’t understand it then and had pushed the idea away as insane, but it was obvious now.

She wanted comfort.

Her hands stroked up the column of his neck, and her fingers threaded through his hair, giving him the invitation to deepen the kiss. He slanted his mouth over hers, and his tongue caressed the tender inside of her mouth. Deep, slow, languid kisses that roused her in ways she’d never experienced before. Lord Dalton kissed with a finesse sorely lacking in the fumbling country boys who’d tried before him and certainly more than the sadistic would-be rapists of her most recent acquaintance.

The hand caressing her hair alighted on her waist. His huge palm spanned her rib cage, his thumb stroking just under her breast. Her skin tingled and grew heated under the thin layer of cotton that made up her nightdress. His kiss trailed across her jaw to a sensitive place under her ear. Olivia gasped a deep breath that ended on a sigh.

Lord Dalton murmured something against her flesh, and the sensation shivered over her. It was marvelous, and she wanted more of it. She stretched against his hand and was rewarded when his caress traveled to her breast. The heat from his palm and the gentle kneading from his fingers brought a heaviness, an awareness, which caused her nipple to pebble. The flimsy material was a weak barrier to his touch.

He shifted, and she was lowered so her back rested against the padded arm of the sofa. The hand that had supported her back now spanned the nape of her neck, adjusting the angle of her head, and a thumb nudged up her chin to give him better access to her throat. His mouth, lips and tongue continued their sensual perusal of her jawline and neck. The hand teasing her breast brought her sweet frustration.

Down, slowly down, Lord Dalton nibbled along the column of her neck, little bites interspersed with kisses and tantalizing flicks of his tongue. Her head lolled back against the cushions while she mindlessly enjoyed his attentions, her hands unthinkingly stroking his arms and shoulders in a desire to touch him as well. When his ministrations met the barrier of her nightdress, the pink ribbon cutting off further access to her skin, he uttered a frustrated groan, and Olivia understood completely.

The sane thing would be to put an end to this craziness now.

But she didn’t want to, for so many reasons, not the least of which was how wonderful he made her feel. Like any country girl, she knew the mechanics of lovemaking, and until recently she’d always thought it would be wonderful to engage in with her husband some day, whoever that might be. Her time in London had soured her on the whole idea. It was hard to imagine the pinching fingers and slapping palms, the grabbing and molesting hands she’d endured, was the same act she was experiencing with Lord Dalton’s caressing, petting and kissing.

The biggest reason, however, was because for the first time in months she’d let someone make decisions for her. Olivia was tired, and weary, and if what he’d told her was any indication, she would be back to making hard decisions again tomorrow. Tonight, well at least for a little longer, she wanted to feel better. She longed to know she wasn’t alone. She wanted to let go. She wanted to believe she was worthy of lovemaking and not rutting in a filthy room.

Lord Dalton raised his head and peered at the ribbon in frustration. From lash-shadowed eyes she watched him stare at the confounding ribbon. Coming to a decision, Olivia grasped either end of the bow and pulled the strings until it unraveled and revealed more skin. He inhaled through his teeth and his gaze met hers.

“It didn’t seem as if you were going to do it,” Olivia explained in a whisper. Dalton didn’t speak. A kiss served as his reply. Only this kiss wasn’t gentle and sweet and…oh, it was magnificent.

This time he wasn’t content with a simple, soft stroke of his tongue. This kiss ravished her mouth, and her arousal climbed from sensual awakening to a hunger that drove her to kiss him back with élan. She bravely flicked her tongue along his top teeth. Lord Dalton groaned, and the hand on her breast slid down her ribs, past her waist and rounded her bottom where he squeezed and pressed her further into his lap. He broke the kiss, leaving her gasping for breath and tingling from head to toe.

She opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling, and enjoyed the sensations that followed in the wake of Dalton’s mouth. He nibbled her throat and laved the sensitive indention at the base. His tongue traced the triangle of skin exposed by untying the ribbon, and he placed a kiss there.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her neck. Taking her lead, Dalton unbuttoned the top pearl button and the next one, and the next one, revealing more skin and kissing each inch as it was revealed. Olivia fidgeted in the man’s lap, earning her another moan from Lord Dalton.

“Hold still,” Dalton groaned even as his hips lifted to meet hers. Buttons slid out of their holes, one at a time, as his tongue and lips laved her skin. As much as she wanted to obey Lord Dalton, his command was impossible. As embarrassed as she was, she simply couldn’t stop wiggling.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered back and strained against her body’s desire to move in his lap. Then another button slipped its mooring, and his hand drew back her nightdress to expose her breast. The warmth of his mouth on her nipple brought a gasping moan to her lips, and all pretense of controlling herself against his ministrations was abandoned. Her fingers entwined with his hair, grasping handfuls of the silky, wheaten strands to press him next to her bosom. She arched in response to the pull of his mouth, the rasp of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth.

She cried out when his mouth lifted and exposed her heated skin to the air of his exhalation, causing her flesh to tighten, furling her nipple into a firm, sensitive bud. He moved the thin cotton away from her other breast, cupped it in his hand and scraped its peak against his teeth, before taking it into his mouth with a low growl of need.

Her long moan ended in a ragged sigh. She thought she should say something, but words escaped her. What does one say when one’s being ravished? “My lord.” It was the height of wit apparently.

“Henry,” he said against her skin.

“I’m sorry?”

He lifted his head from her chest, his thumb and forefinger rubbing her nipple, pinching it slightly, while he spoke to her. “Henry. Call me Henry.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can, that I should.”

The fingers on her bottom squeezed, and his palm pressed down on her hip while he bore against her with his groin. “Yes, you should. Say it.” The blue of his eyes held fire regardless of the icy color, the handsome lines of his face taut with desire.

Olivia didn’t answer him. She didn’t repeat his name. She stared at him in confusion. She was not his equal as a baron’s daughter. She would never be invited to call him by his Christian name in a normal social situation, and calling him by it now made her uncomfortable.
What difference does a name make, Olivia? You’re half undressed with his mouth on your breasts.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t make the word form on her tongue. She wanted to say it.
Henry.
She said it in her head.
Henry.
“Why is it so important?” She struggled to sit up, but he put light pressure on her chest.

“Because I want to hear it.” His thumb pressed the inside of her thigh, and he kissed her fiercely again. She felt dampness in her most private area and was mortified at how badly she wanted him to touch her there. If she said his name, would he do it? Would he put his hands on her there and ease the mounting ache he was building?

“Say it, Olivia.”

She sighed and panted out aroused breaths. His saying her name—it was so intimate. How could it be more intimate than his mouth on her breasts, she had no idea, but it was. It was hard to think when he kissed and lightly pinched and stroked her with such knowing hands.

She owed him everything, and suddenly, in his debt while nearly naked in his lap wasn’t a place she wanted to be. She felt fragile, delicate. How badly would it hurt her to give herself to this man and leave him tomorrow? That’s what he was asking for, after all. Olivia had kept her dignity and self-respect through every single lowering encounter during her time in London’s stews. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would be invited to call Lord Dalton by his Christian name that didn’t involve his hand up her skirt.

“Tell me why it’s so important to you.” She didn’t ask him in the soft voice of lovers this time.

“I want to hear it. You owe me.” His mouth came down to kiss her again, but she moved her head and shoved his hand from between her knees in one fluid movement.

“I owe you?” she repeated incredulously.

“That’s not what I meant.” His face was stricken.

“What could you possibly mean? You belittle me when you catch me trying to find the bills so I can know the amount to repay you. You don’t want my money, is that it?” Olivia struggled off his lap and stood with her hands on her hips. She knew she must look like a pale imitation of his earlier stance, and the ridiculousness was not lost on her.

He spoke to her with exaggerated calmness. “I didn’t intend to belittle you. Olivia, that’s not what I meant.”

Her name on his lips was awful. She was damned to feel his hands on her still. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry. What I meant was you owed me because I said
your
name.” Dalton reached for her, but she took a step back. “Admit it feels good to hear it.” She let a glare be her reply. She could see him struggling with himself, deciding what to say. “I want to hear you say it because it makes me feel like you know me.”

“Know you?”

“I want to know you.”

“You came quite close to knowing me very well indeed.” She spat the words back at him.

“I should never have let that happen. Things got out of hand.” He rose to his feet and approached her, but she held her ground. “Look, I can’t argue with you or explain myself with your gown open like that.”

Olivia glanced down and realized, while she stared him down in all her self-righteous glory, her nightdress gaped open wildly to her navel, her breasts completely exposed.

“Oh sweet Lord!” She fumbled with the buttons. “There is nothing to explain, Lord Dalton. You want me to sleep with you in exchange for your hospitality. I was given the same offer in Seven Dials, though I dare say the bed wouldn’t have been as comfortable.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Dalton protested. “I assure you that is most definitely not what I was offering.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I acted like a fool and a cad, and I apologize wholeheartedly. You’ve had a very rough time of it, and I fear I took advantage of you when you were least capable of thinking with a clear head. I got caught up in the moment and said something that, under the circumstances, was easily misinterpreted.”

Olivia finished doing up the buttons. She tried to hold on to her indignation, but much of her anger was deflated by what sounded like his sincere apology.

He continued, “Please know I hold you in the highest regard. Your invitation to stay here and the assistance that my family and I have provided are not subject to repayment of any kind.”