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Authors: The Matchmaker-1

BOOK: Rexanne Becnel
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She stopped less than an arm’s length from him.
Please give me the right words to say
, she prayed. She took a deep breath. “First I discovered a superior horseman who maintains an impeccable stable. Then I discovered that you are a good landlord to your tenants and workers. Fair to them and just as hard-working as they. I will confess that at the time I did not want that to be the case. But now I am glad. You are a good man, Neville, and most important of all, you have proven yourself to be a caring uncle and, tonight, a man uncannily kind to a heartsore little girl.”
His lips thinned in an unhappy half-smile. “How quickly you forget the man who insulted you and who tried repeatedly to seduce you.”
Soberly Olivia shook her head. “No. I haven’t forgetten that man, though I admit I do not understand him. Why, when you are so kind to everyone else, have you always been so troublesome with me? So challenging to everything I said or did?”
She caught a glimmer of light in his dark, troubled eyes. “Because you are such a worthy opponent.”
A smile began on Olivia’s lips. But it quickly faded when a distressing thought intruded. “A worthy opponent,” she echoed. “But there are no more battles to fight, Neville. Not with me, nor with yourself. And most certainly not with the men who haunt your dreams.”
At that remark the spark in his eyes snuffed out and he turned away. “Those men …” He hesitated and she knew he struggled with his words. “Those men will never leave me. They will haunt my life—my nights—forever. I thought I could be rid of them. But I cannot.”
The defeat in his voice made Olivia’s heart ache in her chest. Her mind spun, searching for the best way to address this blight upon his life. “Remember what you told Sarah this evening, that she has a family that loves her, and that she
should never take that for granted? You also said that her father would always be a part of her and that she ought to think about what he would want her to do. That was such good advice, Neville, and it brought her so much comfort. But you should follow that advice too.”
“I do. I keep up Woodford Court in their memory, though it sometimes—”
“I’m not speaking of what your parents would want you to do. I mean your friends. Those soldiers who haunt your dreams, the men who died alongside you.”
His face had grown haggard with emotion, and the sight brought a huge lump to her throat. “I … I think, Neville, that they would want you to remember the lives they had, not agonize over the lives they might have had. I don’t believe they would want you to feel such guilt for surviving when they did not. They would not want you to turn away from living the life given to you. If nothing else, live your life for them.”
Neville stood there, hardly able to look at Olivia. She was being so kind, so incredibly careful of his feelings, when he deserved no such consideration. Most unbelievable of all, she still wanted to marry him. Despite having witnessed his gruesome nightmare, his weakness and fear, she still vowed to marry him. Him, a man who would never sleep a night at her side. A man small-minded enough to seduce her for his own selfish purposes.
All his plotting had paid off, and yet victory now tasted bitter upon his tongue. She deserved so much better than the likes of him. He’d done her a huge disservice when he’d seduced her. A better man would let her go.
He’d never been as strong as he should be. He’d always fallen short. But not this time. For once he would truly be brave. He would finally reveal to someone—to her, the person he most cared about—exactly what he’d done, the whole truth of his shameful, craven nature.
As he lifted his head to face her, a terror as fierce as that of impending battle settled over him like a heavy, smothering blanket. “You don’t know the whole of it. Nobody does.”
Then he began. “At Ligny we faced a fierce enemy.”
In the long pause that followed she said, “And the British forces prevailed.”
“We prevailed.” His throat was dry. It was painful to talk. “But … But too many died. I fell asleep,” he blurted out.
At her quizzical look he rushed on. “I had the watch. Macklin and I. We’d been up for days. Everyone had. Snatching naps when we could. But it was quiet that night.” He drew a shaky breath. “Macklin dozed off. I knew it, but I decided to let him sleep, at least for a little while. But then I—”
He broke off. His heart was racing, beating a hole in his chest as he recounted the horrors of that fateful night. “I fell asleep. Just for a moment—No,” he amended. “That’s not true. I don’t know how long I slept. I’ll never know. But it was long enough.” He closed his eyes. “It was long enough that the French forces were able to surprise us.”
He started shaking. He tried to control it, but he could not. “They surprised us, and the men—my men. My friends—” Again he broke off, unable to go on. Four years gone, yet the horror of it was as fresh and hideous as ever. And the guilt continued to grow.
“But Neville. Everyone says you were a hero at Ligny, that you saved so many of your men. If not for you …”
Her voice startled him, for in the midst of his misery he’d nearly forgotten her presence. How he wanted to turn to her, to reach out for her and hold on to her like a lifeline. But she could not save him from the truth of his past. No one could.
“Yes. They say I am a hero. That I fought like a man possessed.” He laughed bitterly. “Well, I was a man possessed. Perhaps … perhaps I still am. Because for every man I am said to have saved, another—” Again he faltered. It hurt, like a physical pain, to admit such awful truths. But he bowed his head and forced himself on. “They say I am a hero, but that is only part of the truth. I saved a few. But I let those others down. I let all those other men down.”
A silence filled the room, ugly and damning. Then Neville felt a touch upon his arm. She should be repulsed by his
shameful admission, but instead she had moved even nearer and laid her hand upon his sleeve.
“It is hard for me to imagine you deliberately letting anyone down, Neville. I think that is one of the reasons I wish to marry you. Your every ambition seems to be for the benefit of others. Not for your pleasure or gain, but for someone else’s. For your tenants. For your nephew. For me.” Her hand slid up and down upon his wrist in a soothing fashion. “And for your fellow soldiers. You would have given your life for them, I suspect.”
He shuddered. “It would have been better if I’d died alongside them. I wanted to die with them.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t die with them, or for them, so … so maybe instead you are meant to live for them. Please, Neville.” Her voice softened to a whispered plea. “Choose to live. Choose to live!”
He looked down at her, at her serious face turned up to his in entreaty. “If you are afraid I might deliberately end my life, I promise you, Livvie, that I will not. I’ve thought about it, but coward that I am, I’ve never been able to follow through.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, choose to live for them, Neville. Live the life of good purpose that those men cannot now live. Live as they would want you to, and be the best man you can be as … as an honor to them.”
He heard her words, and a part of him wanted to embrace them. It would be so simple and the very least he could do for them. But he was afraid. Afraid of the night and the dreams they held. And the overwhelming guilt they dredged up when he could not fight back.
As if she sensed his fear, Olivia moved in closer, circling his waist with her arms and resting her cheek against his shoulder. “You are a much better man than my father ever was. I am ashamed that I ever compared you to him.”
He wrapped his arms around her, because at that moment he needed to hold her, to crush her to him with more force than he should. “It could be that Cameron Byrde was not nearly so bad as you believe.”
“I’m afraid he was. But he doesn’t matter to me. He’s my
past. You’re my future.” She gazed up at him. “I love you, Neville. You don’t want to hear that,” she went on when he stiffened. “But I love you just the same. It’s time to leave the past behind and get on with your future. Our future.”
He stared down at her, down into the hazel-colored eyes that had captured him from the first. “How can you be certain about the future we’ll have?”
She smiled then, a beautiful smile, so trusting that he felt it all the way into his heart. “I’m not. For so long I tried to be careful and to analyze everything. Everyone. I thought if I picked just the right man, I could keep my life calm and uncomplicated, and plan out my whole future. I suppose I thought I could control it. But then you came along and turned my life upside down. I’m not certain at all of the future, Neville. But I am certain that I love you and that I want to spend my future with you. You’re the right man for me. The only man.”
In her beautiful hazel eyes, the truth of her feelings shone, and it warmed Neville to the depths of his shriveled, tarnished soul. Like the rising sun always rescued him from the terrifying night, her love, given without regard to her own needs, was rescuing him from the dark night of his past.
Did he dare accept the love she offered him? Could he ever give to her as much as she’d already given him?
Then like the saving light of dawn touching him with infinite grace, he suddenly understood. To love her in return was all she wanted from him. Just to love her. And she was willing to wait for that love to come.
Only there was no reason to wait.
“Livvie …” He faltered, for powerful emotions filled his chest and clogged his throat. “I love you. God.” He crushed her to him. “I love you. I love you.”
Then he kissed her, really kissed her, with honesty and love and absolute truth. “God, how I love you.”
“Oh, Neville.”
Only when he felt the sweet dampness of tears upon her cheeks did he draw back. “If you will have me, Livvie, then I will marry you. I choose you. I choose life.”
She laughed, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, then reached up on tiptoes to kiss him fully upon the mouth. “And I choose you. Come, let us go back to bed, Neville, for I wish to sleep in your arms, and have you sleep in mine.” Before he could protest she added, “We shall conquer the past. You’ll see.”
He glanced beyond her, to where the shards of the decanter lay. He’d already chosen to fight the lure of drink and the false relief it gave. He’d done it because he knew he could not have her any other way. Now it was time to fight the rest of his demons. To choose to truly live again. If she was willing to fight that battle alongside him, then so must he be.
“Yes,” he said, smiling down at this amazing woman who had saved him with the bright shining light of her love. “Yes. I want to lie down and sleep beside you, my Olivia. My wife.”
Then he scooped her up and headed for the door. There were three hours until the dawn. Enough time to make love to her again, then time to sleep beside her and dream of a future he’d never thought to find.
WOODFORD COURT, 1821
 
OLIVIA came awake with a start.
The mewling cry came again, so faint and breathy that it should not have disturbed her sleep. But she had the heightened senses of a new mother now, and at little Catherine’s first cry, Olivia’s slumber had fled.
She pushed the bedclothes aside and slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Neville. He’d been working long hours of late, what with the sheep shearing under way and the new weaving shed finally in full production. Add to that, his utter fascination with his dark-haired baby girl, and it was plain he needed his rest. Dawn would come soon enough to awaken him, she decided. Already the sky beyond the open window showed the first pale streaks of the approaching day.
“Come to Mama,” she murmured as she scooped up the carefully swaddled child. With newly acquired skill she replaced her baby daughter’s damp cloths, then settled with her in a large chair that faced the window. “My, but you’re a hungry little thing,” she whispered as little Catherine rooted instinctively for her mother’s full breasts.
She opened the front of her gown, then with a pillow to prop her arm, settled back to nurse the child that had taken three years to come. If heaven could be found any place on earth, it was here, in this room with her husband and her child, and the sun rising over a peaceful countryside.
She sighed, a sound of happy contentment which Neville, awake now in their bed, completely understood. He’d slept
well, a happenstance which, though commonplace these days, still managed sometimes to amaze him. It had been ages since he’d had his old nightmare.
He shifted to his side, just enough that he could see his wife and their new baby. But he did not alert Olivia that he was awake. For a few minutes he wished merely to look upon her, to gaze upon the woman and child who had become the center of his world. Though they were little more than shadows silhouetted against the paler gray of the window, he saw every detail that mattered. For love radiated from the woman sitting in his big old chair. Love, warm and nurturing and forgiving. Love that never ran dry, that expanded and grew until he finally had come to believe it would never disappear.
He listened to her soft humming as she held their child to her breasts. He’d thought he might feel jealous of the time she lavished on Catherine. But to his astonishment he felt more bound to her than ever. To both of them. That Olivia was a wonderful mother did not surprise him. She’d long ago turned Woodford back into a home, just as she’d turned him into a contented husband.
Most of all she’d healed him with the gentle power of her unwavering love.
She murmured some sweet nonsense to the baby, then shifted Catherine to her other breast. “I love you so much,” she crooned. “So much.”
“And I love you both.”
She was smiling when she turned her face to him. The early dawn shed enough light now for him to see the slope of her cheek and the curve of her lips. “Did I wake you?”
“I reached for you and you were gone. Come back. Bring Catherine with you.”
“All right, then. But only for a little while. We have a busy day ahead, for Sarah is to arrive this morning, and Mrs. Mac—I mean Mrs. Hamilton—has an elaborate luncheon planned.”
“With Sarah here to entertain her new niece, maybe we can find a few more private moments for ourselves,” he said, settling the coverlet over the three of them. He nuzzled the side
of her neck, kissing the spot where he knew she was most sensitive.
“Mmm,” Olivia giggled. “That would be nice.”
“Indeed it would.” He blew softly, suggestively in her ear. “And I bet, if I put a little effort into it, I could give you something very nice to write about in that journal of yours. ‘Lord H. A man of remarkable talents and incredible stamina.’”
At that she laughed.
Neville laughed too, filled with such joy and peace he could hardly believe it. Even though it was not unusual for him to feel that way, he nonetheless luxuriated in the pure happiness of that moment.
As he lay there with his wife in his arms and their beloved child nestled between them, it occurred to him that his life could not be any better. He could deal with whatever trials and tribulations lay ahead, and be content no matter what happened, just so long as Olivia loved him. For the past three years had proven one thing to him. Olivia might not be the perfect matchmaker, but she was his perfect match.

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