Scandalous Summer Nights (9 page)

J
ames had no intention of ravishing Olivia.

The problem was that when he was around her, he had a habit of doing all sorts of things he didn’t intend.

“There’s every possibility a passing carriage could stop and lend us assistance,” James said. If he reminded himself of that fact, maybe he’d be less inclined to give in to the temptation to kiss Olivia.

She cast him an indulgent smile. “We’ve seen exactly one other traveler since leaving Haven Bridge, and that was a farmer in a mule-drawn cart.”

“It lacks a certain amount of dignity,” he teased. “But with an ankle like that, you can’t afford to turn up your nose at a perfectly functional—if rickety—wagon.”

“That’s true. Thank heaven we’re not in Hyde Park. Could you imagine me riding down Rotten Row in the
back of a cart with my grossly swollen foot propped on a crate of angry chickens? I can see Miss Starling now, seated on a stylish barouche, gaping at me from beneath her lace-edged parasol with undisguised revulsion.” Olivia shuddered. “I suppose I should be grateful that we’re in the middle of nowhere. The only witnesses to my shame are the cows, over yonder.”

James chuckled. “You’ve always been able to find the bright side of an unfortunate situation. I admire that about you.”

She snapped her head around to look at him, eyes narrowed as though she feared he was mocking her. “Truly?”

“Yes. I admire a great many things about you, Olivia.”

She swallowed, working the fine muscles of her neck. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It’s true. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been full of boundless energy and passion. You’ve always spoken your mind and been easy to talk to. While you
really
shouldn’t have come here without your brother’s knowledge—”

“Yes, I believe you’ve already mentioned that.”

“—in some respects, I’m glad you did.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, I realize now that I’ve taken you for granted—your lovely smile, your zest for life, and your unwavering loyalty. I’m sorry that I didn’t see it before and that I was blind to the way you felt about me.”

But he hadn’t really been blind to it. On some level, he’d known that Olivia harbored feelings for him, and he’d abused her devotion by basking in it without acknowledging it. Hell, what red-blooded male
wouldn’t
want to be
on the receiving end of her adoring glances? Oh, he’d enjoyed the attention plenty. And that made him at least partially culpable for the mess they were in.

“Well,” she said slowly, “for my part, I realized about half an hour after arriving in Haven Bridge that I’d made a horrible mistake. But if I hadn’t chased after you, I wouldn’t have seen the view at the top of your hill or tasted the world’s best hot cross buns, and that would have been tragic.”

He couldn’t have agreed more. And because saying so seemed inadequate, he took her bare hand and kissed the back of it. She gasped slightly but didn’t pull away. That was another thing he adored about her—she
never
pulled away.

Her skin tasted of rain, lavender, and
her
. And though he was very, very tempted to trace a path with his lips right up her forearm and beyond, he refrained. “This is just what I mean,” he said. “Here you are, stranded in the countryside with an injured foot, and you choose to dwell on the good things instead of the bad.”

“I see no advantage in talking about unpleasant matters, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets.”

James squeezed her hand tighter. “What are your regrets?” Suddenly, it was imperative that he know. “Will you tell me?”

Olivia sat quietly for the space of several breaths, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d crossed a line, pushed her too far, when finally she spoke. “I regret that I’ve led a frivolous life.”

“What?”

“It’s true. Most of my worries border on the ridiculous—a torn hem, an empty dance card, a nasty bit of gossip.”

“I’m no expert,” James admitted, “but I think all young women worry about such things.”

“No,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “Not my closest friends. Before Anabelle married Owen, she struggled to keep her mother alive and put food on the table for her sister. Daphne can treat most illnesses better than our doctor and still finds time to work at the foundling home. And though Rose is two years my junior, she’s infinitely wiser. With all the time we spend together, you would have thought some of her serenity might have rubbed off on me.” She gave a hollow laugh. “But no. So, you asked me, and now you know. I regret that in my twenty-two years, I’ve done nothing of any import. I haven’t made a difference.”

A denial was on his lips, but he bit it back. If he discounted what she said outright, she’d never believe him. So, he waited a few moments and let the patter of the rain on the roof soothe away some of her angst. Then, very softly and deliberately, he said, “You’ve made a difference to me.”

She had.

Who cared that she had few grand accomplishments to her name? He wanted to explain to her that being a good person was more than enough. That loyalty and commitment to family surpassed a whole litany of good deeds or grand adventures.

Olivia laid her head back against the velvet squabs as though she’d been sapped of all her energy. “Everything is so much clearer now.”

“How so?” His stomach clenched. She was probably going to say she no longer had a romantic interest in him, that she couldn’t imagine why she’d mooned over him for
so long. Of course, that would be for the best, and yet… selfish bastard that he was, he hated the thought. Olivia’s adoration had been a constant. Knowing that she was in his corner, no matter what, had made him walk a little taller, puff his chest out a bit more. She’d been a nuisance at times, but even then, she’d made him feel like a king. She’d given him her unwavering devotion.

In return, he’d taken her for granted.

She stared at the ceiling of the cab as though it were a clear, starry sky. “This trip—no matter how ill-conceived—has been truly enlightening. For all the years I was infatuated with you, my one goal was to capture your attention.
That
was my lofty aspiration. And now that I’ve confessed my feelings to you, I realize how shallow that goal was. Not that you’re unworthy, mind you,” she quickly added, “but I can’t have all my dreams wrapped up in someone else. I need to accomplish something for myself. How can I expect someone as worldly as you to respect me when I have no real passion of my own?”

Before he could inform her how ludicrous that notion was, she continued. “Fortunately, I’ve an idea—for a project of sorts.”

“I’m sure it’s very noble. But, Olivia, you
have
my respect. More than you know.”

She went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “It’s nothing so grand, mind you. But this trip reminded me of how much I love to travel outside of London—how much I enjoy the countryside. And I started thinking about the girls at Daphne’s foundling home. Last week, when I accompanied Daphne on her visit, I spoke with several of the little urchins. Did you know that most of them were born in London and have never seen the world beyond the
filthy streets of St. Giles? They’ve never seen cows grazing in beautiful green pastures or gone swimming in clear blue lakes.”

“I’m not sure that’s a tragedy,” James said.

Olivia’s face fell, and he wished he could take back his stupid, careless words.

“Perhaps not. However, I still think it would be good for them to see some of the world beyond the walls of the orphanage.”

“Oh, I agree,” he said quickly. “One can only learn so much from books.”

She brightened instantly. “Precisely! I could take small groups of girls on day trips—picnics in the countryside, visits to cathedrals in nearby villages, maybe even a few longer outings for the older girls. What a grand time we would have.” Olivia sighed happily.

“I’m sure the girls would be delighted to escape the confines of the classroom,” James said. “And the country air would do them good.”

“It would indeed. There’s a new orphan—an eight-year-old named Molly—who has palsy. She spent the last two years in an institution for the insane before some kind nurse realized she didn’t belong there and sent her to the orphanage. She’s so grateful to be with the other girls and is already progressing rapidly at learning her tables and letters. But she’s so pale. I think it must have been a very long time since she felt the sunshine upon her face.”

Olivia’s description of the sickly girl reminded him of his brother. It was on the tip of his tongue to say so, but then he remembered.

James didn’t talk about Ralph. He never had. Not even to his closest friends.

Oblivious to his musings, Olivia rambled on. “I would need Owen’s permission, of course, but I think I could convince him to lend me the use of the coach and a footman or two.”

James was about to point out that she hadn’t worried about seeking Huntford’s permission prior to coming to the Lakes but thought better of it. He didn’t want to say anything that would dim the light radiating from her beautiful face. “Your idea sounds splendid to me. Any reservations Huntford may have shall be no match for you.”

Olivia grinned. “I can be very persuasive. But sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be. It seems I shall be forever at Owen’s mercy.”

“At least he is fair. And he has never been able to deny you or Rose,” James added.

“He’s a wonderful brother. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. However, I am an adult.” Olivia sat up a bit straighter in her seat. “I don’t see why I must beg his permission for every little excursion.”

James brushed a hand over the front of his jacket, ensuring that Olivia’s letter was still tucked deep within his breast pocket. He could feel the paper beneath the damp fabric. Suddenly, it seemed to weigh as much as the sarsen stones at Stonehenge. Why had Huntford implicated him in what was clearly a family matter? The more time he spent with Olivia, the more he realized the right course of action was to give her the letter.

The problem was, the decision wasn’t his to make.

James knew one thing for sure—the moment he saw Huntford, he would hand the letter over to him and demand that he give it to Olivia.

“I’ve no doubt you’ll accomplish whatever you put
your mind to. And I don’t mind telling you that I’m a little jealous of those girls for getting to spend idyllic days in the country with you.”

Olivia snorted. “I should think you’ve had quite enough of that. Besides, what appeal could sheep-filled pastures hold when compared with the adventures that await you in Egypt?”

The appeal lay less in the pastures than in the woman who sat beside him. Specifically, it lay in the petal-smooth skin of her cheek, the plumpness of her lips, and the ripe curves of her body.

“As eager as I am to explore Egypt and study its ancient civilizations, England has much to recommend it in the here and now.” He squeezed her hand, hoping his meaning was clear.

Olivia did not respond but only gazed out the window. If he was not mistaken, however, a faint blush stole up her cheeks.

“How does your ankle feel now?” he asked.

“Like someone dropped a pianoforte on it.”

“You should have told me earlier, you know, so we could have had a doctor look at it.”

“I wish Daphne were here,” she said. “She’d go pick some herbs, mix up a poultice, and have me frolicking through the fields in no time.”

“I’d like to see that. Not the poultice, but the frolicking.”

A rumble of thunder in the distance shook the coach, and a look of alarm crossed Olivia’s face. She grasped at James’s arm and clung to him for a quick, splendid moment.

“Forgive me,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I was just startled.”

“Don’t apologize.” He moved closer and eased an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve had a tiresome couple of days. Why don’t you lean your head on me and rest? I promise not to tease you if you snore.”

Olivia eyed him warily but accepted the invitation. Tentatively, she laid her cheek against his shoulder, and the clean scent of her hair filled his head. He lifted a long loose strand from her neck and curled it around his finger, loving the silky feel of it. Gradually, the tension seemed to flow out of her, and her body nestled against him, warm and pliant.

The rain pelted the roof harder and the thunder grew louder and more frequent. A few drops managed to find their way through the top of the door and plunked onto the floor with tiny splashes.

Olivia gave a tired sigh. “What a mess I’ve gotten us into. How did I bungle things so terribly?”

“The broken axle isn’t your fault.” He caressed the top of her arm, which, of course, made him want to caress more of her, but he refrained. “And I will tell you this: if I must be stranded in a coach in the middle of a storm, there’s no one I’d rather be stranded with.”

She turned her face up to his and slowly blinked her beautiful brown eyes. “Truly?”

Damn it. He was going to kiss her.

It would have been impossible not to.

B
last. She was going to kiss James.

Olivia had promised herself she wouldn’t, but how could she not?

The spark in his green eyes sent delicious shivers through her limbs, and she melted into him. When he leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers, she was lost. She took shallow breaths, as though the slightest movement might break the tenuous, wonderful spell between them.

“Olivia,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to hers.

Though they’d kissed before, this… this was different.

This
was the kiss she’d waited for her whole life.

He began gently, as though she were a rare and fragile treasure he couldn’t believe he’d had the good fortune to find. His lips brushed lightly over hers—testing and tempting her, promising something more.

She closed her eyes in order to better feel his breath upon her cheek, his fingers in her hair, the solid pressure of his arm behind her. When he parted her lips with his
tongue, a sigh escaped her and he swallowed it, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

Olivia did not resist him; she couldn’t if she tried.

This kiss didn’t start out of drunkenness or pity or desperation.

She’d seen the hunger simmering in James’s eyes and heard the admiration in his voice. He
wanted
this kiss.

And damn it all, she did, too.

In fact, if lightning were to strike the coach or a flood were to carry it away this very moment, she and James would not have been deterred from this kiss. This breathtaking, knee-buckling, heart-stopping kiss.

He tasted just as she remembered—warm, cinnamony, and male—and she eagerly met every thrust of his tongue, drowning in a heady rush of desire. Though she longed to wriggle closer to him, her right foot was still propped on the opposite bench, making her leg a barrier between them.

Sensing her frustration, he gently lifted both her legs and laid them across his lap. “Much better,” he murmured in her ear, sending sweet tremors through her body. “This is madness, Olivia, but I can’t help myself.”

“Nor can I.”

He blazed a trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, where she felt her pulse race wildly. His hair tickled the sensitive skin of her neck; laughing, she lifted his face to hers.

“I dreamed of kissing you many times.” Her cheeks warmed at her own boldness. “But my fantasies were always more picturesque.”

James shot her a wicked grin, making her heart skip a beat. “How so?” he asked.

“For one thing,” she began, “we were usually indoors.”

“Why, I’m disappointed at your lack of imagination. Indoors is so… predictable.”

“I may have imagined one or two kisses out of doors,” she admitted, “but in those cases, clear, starlit skies were overhead. Not thunderheads.”

“Sounds dreadfully boring,” James said, a bit distractedly. His heavy-lidded gaze had drifted to the expanse of skin above Olivia’s formfitting gown.

“I would not have deemed them boring, but I had no basis for comparison then.”

“And now?” With a calloused fingertip, he idly traced her low-cut neckline.

“I’m learning,” she said breathlessly, “that there’s much more to kissing than I realized.”

“You have no idea,” he growled, still staring, rather unapologetically in her opinion, at her breasts. Not that she minded.

She twined her arms around his neck and played with the soft curls at his nape. “While kissing has proved to be different than my relatively innocent imaginings, I am learning that reality is better.”

A feral gleam lit James’s eyes. He leaned in and slanted his mouth across hers, filling her with heat and passion. He swept a hand over her hip and up her belly, lightly brushing the underside of her breast with his thumb. Just when Olivia thought she’d die of anticipation, he cupped her breast, lightly tweaking her nipple through the thin crepe of her dress.

She kissed him harder, determined to make sure he did not stop. He didn’t. Instead, he turned his attention to her other breast, making her dizzy with pleasure.

The temperature inside the coach shot upward, clouding the windows with a white mist. Her expertly fitted gown became a source of irritation, as it suddenly seemed to be laced too tightly. Her breath came in shallow rasps, as though air were in short supply. She could remedy the situation easily enough. The responsible course of action would be to stop kissing James.

But since she found that option most unappealing, she proceeded to the second—and slightly less proper—course of action.

Which was to reach down with one hand and loosen the ties at the side of her dress.

“What are you doing?” James’s voice was laced with a note of hopefulness that helped to tamp down any embarrassment she should have felt.

“My dress is too tight.” She tugged at the shoulders of her gown, causing the neckline to gape. Cool air immediately rushed over the swells of her breasts, which were still covered by her corset and chemise. Well, somewhat covered. “I didn’t think you’d object,” she said, pleased with the sultry tone she’d managed.

James’s eyes darkened till only a thin ring of green remained. His gaze roamed over her, lingering on her bare shoulders, the lacy edge of her chemise, the deep valley between her breasts. Then he bent his head, kissing the skin she’d exposed.

Every touch of his lips, every caress of his fingers, set her on fire, and a sweet pulsing began in her loins.

This was James.
Her
James.

Even better, this was no dream.

Oh, she recognized the recklessness of her behavior. Rose would tell Olivia she deserved better than a romp in
a broken-down carriage. Daphne would urge her to safeguard her heart. Anabelle would tell her to be practical—after all, in a couple of months James would be on a ship headed for Egypt.

Olivia
knew
all these things, but she wanted this and recognized it for what it was: a few stolen moments of bliss.

She wasn’t going to make love with him—she wasn’t a
complete
idiot—but she wanted to learn something of passion, and she wanted to learn it from
him
. Mostly, she just wanted to live the fantasy for a bit longer.

With a boldness she’d always suspected she possessed, Olivia pushed down her corset and chemise, freeing her breasts completely.

“Jesus,” James whispered, and the hungry look in his eyes was everything Olivia had hoped for. She reclined against the side of the coach and pulled him forward by the lapels of his jacket.

James needed no further encouragement. He leaned over her, capturing one nipple in his mouth and grazing the other lightly with his palm. His tongue, warm and moist, curled around the tight nub, suckling until her whole body thrummed.

She raked her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and wishing it were just that easy to keep him there with her. Forever.

He stopped and looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re amazing, Olivia.”

His words flowed over her like a silk gown. “If you say so.”

“We mustn’t get carried away, though… er, not any more than we already have.”

“I know.” Momentarily distracted by the spiral pattern he was tracing on her breast, she paused. When at last his finger reached the taut tip, she sucked in her breath and sighed happily. “Do you think we might enjoy each other’s company for a bit longer?”

In answer, he captured her mouth with his and kissed her thoroughly. Maybe Olivia was reading too much into his actions—she’d been known to do that on occasion—but the low growl in his throat and the tender way he cupped her cheek made her think that maybe he wished she belonged to him. In a way, she did—and she always would.

Just not in the way she’d once dreamed.

But she wouldn’t let herself think about that right now. Not while James was branding her neck with kisses and running a hand over her hip and down her leg…

Instead, she would lose herself in the moment and do some exploring of her own. She snaked her hands inside his jacket, reveling in the feel of his hard torso beneath his waistcoat. She slid her hands up, over the smooth muscles of his chest, wishing he were not wearing so many layers of clothes.

She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and halfway down his arms, at which point he was forced to stop kissing her in order to shrug it off. He did seem to be rather in a hurry to rid himself of it, which pleased Olivia inordinately. He unceremoniously tossed it aside, and as he did, a folded piece of paper slid onto the floor. She told herself it couldn’t be too important. Especially not compared to the prospect of running her hands over his broad shoulders and down his muscled arms.

But a very stubborn and vexing part of her brain recalled seeing that rather official-looking folded paper
before. After the fight outside the inn in Haven Bridge. It must be important.

“James,” she rasped.

But he apparently thought she’d spoken his name in appreciation of the things he was doing to her—namely, slipping his hand beneath the hem of her gown and chemise and drawing wicked little circles on the sensitive skin behind her knee. In fact,
appreciation
was not a strong enough word. Her limbs felt loose and delightfully lazy, like she’d drunk too much punch at Vauxhall Gardens.

But the letter still lay there on the floor, refusing to be ignored.

She shifted her body to the left, stretched out her arm, and pinched the corner of the paper between two fingers.

James lifted his head and shot her a languorous smile that stole her breath. “I won’t let you fall,” he said, pulling her firmly back onto the bench. His gaze went to her lips as though he’d kiss her again, but before he could, Olivia waved the letter in front of his face.

The easy smile vanished. As though the coach had been transported to the tundra, James’s eyes turned icy and his body stiff. “How did you get that?” His tone stung.

“I picked it up. Off the floor,” she said dryly.

He snatched the letter from her, sat up, and quickly stuffed it into the back waistband of his buckskin trousers. “Damn it.”

Wincing, Olivia sat up, too. “What’s wrong?”

James shook his head slowly, as though their state of half-undress and the personal articles strewn about the cab confounded him. He closed his eyes like he wanted to erase the scene from his mind.

Erase
her
from his mind.

Was she always to be a source of regret for him?

“Here, let me help you,” he said, pulling her sleeves onto her shoulders and smoothing the skirt of her gown over her legs. He was in control once more—polite and decorous. Infuriatingly so.

“I can manage,” she said, borrowing his chilly tone. While she tucked herself back into her gown and tightened its laces, he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and moved down the bench a bit, giving her more space.

What the devil had just happened?

“How is your foot feeling?”

Her
foot
? Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her skin tingled from his caresses, and at her very core, she ached with desire. But he inquired after her foot?

“It’s fine, I think. No worse than before.”

“Excellent.” He sat back and looked out the window. “The rain’s let up a bit.”

Oh no. She was not going to let him pretend that the last half hour—or had it been more?—had never happened. However, she couldn’t quite bring herself to discuss their relationship… or lack thereof. She decided on a different tack. “Why do you carry that letter around with you?”

James dragged his hands down his face. “I can’t discuss it with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a business matter.” His words were clipped, as though he wished to snuff out the conversation.

Well, she wasn’t going to be easily snuffed. “It looks like a letter.”

He shrugged. “It might be.”

“It might be? You don’t know? You’ve been carrying this thing around with you for days.”

“Why would you think that?”

“It has fallen out of your jacket on at least two separate occasions. If it’s really that important, you might consider taking greater care with it.”

“It’s important.”

“You are confident of that, even though you have no idea what it is.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Olivia. It’s personal.”

“You said it was business before. Now it’s personal?”

James leaned his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. “Yes.”

“I see. The letter—or whatever it is—is of a personal nature. I have no right to ask about it, even if you did have your hand up my skirt a few moments ago.”

His head snapped up. “Jesus, Olivia. You make it sound so tawdry.”

“Forgive me,” she said with mock horror. “Do tell. How would you describe our trysts?”

James heaved a sigh. “I care for you. I respect you.”

“You have an odd way of showing it.”

“I know. You deserve better, and there are things we need to discuss… but I’m not at liberty to do so yet.”

“This sounds very mysterious, James.” In truth, it sounded like an excuse.

He turned to her, and taking her hands in his, said, “I have not behaved like a gentleman.”

“I haven’t behaved like a lady.”

He smiled weakly. “I haven’t been completely forthcoming. When you find out the whole of it, you may want nothing more to do with me. And I certainly wouldn’t blame you.”

Olivia couldn’t imagine wanting James out of her life
any more than she could imagine wanting hot chocolate out of it. Whatever his secret was, it clearly tortured him. The fine lines on his forehead were creased in concern, and shame clouded his beautiful green eyes. She thought she knew all of his secrets, but apparently he had a few more.

“I know you’re not perfect,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not perfect for me.”

James raised her hands and pressed his lips, warm and moist, to the backs of them. “Wait and see.”

Though rather weary of waiting, Olivia nodded.

There was one matter, however, that simply could not wait.