Chapter
15
All I could think about was kissing Olivia again. Through every course of the feast, the kiss I’d given her in the chapel replayed in my mind, especially whenever I happened to glance at her mouth—which I tried not to do but seemed unable to avoid, as she was seated beside me.
Every time I turned to converse with her, every time she spoke to one of the other guests at our table, or every time she sipped from her goblet, I was keenly aware of her lips.
Pitt had likely orchestrated the kiss, knowing once I’d tasted of her, I’d want to have more. However, I couldn’t give in to the pressure or the pleasure of claiming another kiss. One kiss was already too many.
Perhaps Pitt had anticipated my reaction to Olivia. But I certainly hadn’t expected this. Of course, I could acknowledge how beautiful she was in the velvety green gown that made her look like a queen. But I hadn’t thought that bending in and giving her a kiss would stir such longing inside me. I suppose I hadn’t counted on her responding with such fervor.
In fact, as much as I’d loved Giselle, I could see now that our relationship had been mostly one-sided. I’d adored her, but she hadn’t returned my love as ardently.
Not that I loved Olivia or that she loved me. But I had to admit I felt some kind of affection for her. And from the way that she’d responded to my kiss, I could only surmise she harbored feelings for me as well.
I wasn’t displeased by the idea that she liked me. If her father refused to come for her, then she wouldn’t be entirely unhappy if we had to wed.
“What say you, Windsor?” Pitt asked boisterously from where he sat several seats down. “Shall we have your wedding in one week?”
One week was much too soon. But I ran my thumb pad around the rim of my goblet, needing to take my time in answering Pitt so that my voice remained neutral and noncommittal. If he detected any hesitancy, he would capitalize on it.
Next to me, Olivia shifted uneasily. She was much less adept at hiding her true feelings, which worked to my advantage most of the time. “We must wait two weeks,” she hissed. “My father will surely come once he hears of our betrothal.” Her eyes flashed with a desperation that pierced me harder than it should have.
What was wrong with me? Her desperation was to be expected. The betrothal wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. It was a punishment for her crime.
“You cannot be seriously considering one week,” she whispered.
Again, her words lanced through me. Had I already allowed myself to care about her too much? Deep down, had I wanted her to accept our union? Whatever the case, the sting of her rejection hurt more than I expected.
“What will it be?” Pitt asked again.
“One,” I retorted loudly and obstinately. I met Olivia’s gaze head-on and watched her eyes fill with surprise. Before she could contradict me, I bent in, captured her lips against mine, and kissed her again.
Her hand shot out as though she meant to push me away. But as I pressed our kiss deeper, her fingers clutched at my tunic, fisting the front into a wad, and she returned the kiss as she had earlier with a force that matched mine and left me shaken.
From a distance, I heard Pitt’s pleased laughter along with the guffaws of some of the other men.
Before I lost all sense of reason and rationale, I forced myself to pull back and break the kiss.
She ducked her head but not before I caught sight of the yearning in her eyes.
I let my shoulders relax with the knowledge that whatever she might say, however she might protest, she was drawn to me. I hadn’t imagined her fondness, and I wasn’t the only one feeling something.
Perhaps I was a fool to agree to Pitt’s plans to have the wedding in one week. It would take time for the earl to receive news of the betrothal. Then he would have to travel to Tolleymuth.
But another part of me was afraid that even a week was too long and that I’d lose Olivia either way—whether after one week or two. I had to silently rebuke myself with the reminder that she wasn’t really mine, that I couldn’t get involved with her, that she’d be better off without me.
I was thankful Lady Glynnis had taken leave of the feasting early, complaining of stomach pains. Only a few of her ladies remained to return to her with tales of my behavior with Olivia, of the kiss and the plans to wed at week’s end. She’d taken a disliking to Olivia and wouldn’t be pleased with the news. But I suspected she wouldn’t attempt to harm Olivia again, not as long as I was at Tolleymuth.
For once, I wasn’t ready for the feast to end. I wanted to lounge at the table with Olivia by my side. But exhaustion was evident in every line of her face. The past few days in the dungeons had taken their toll upon her.
I excused myself to escort her to the tower and her new chamber there. Two of my squires accompanied us. As we started up the winding tower steps, I led the way. The further I climbed, the more she lagged behind.
I retraced my steps. “You’re tired, my lady.”
She nodded. “Yes, I am indeed weary.”
I handed my torch to one of the squires. Then without asking permission, I scooped Olivia up into my arms and began to ascend again.
Her eyes widened but she didn’t attempt to escape my hold. “You cannot mean to carry me the rest of the way.”
“And why not?”
“You are equally tired from your travels.”
I was drained from the past few days of riding hard and sleeping little. But I was not so worn-out that I couldn’t assist her.
She settled against my chest. “I hope you know I am sorry.”
“Have no care,” I reassured her. She was lightweight compared with other things I was forced to lift. “You aren’t a burden.”
“No, I would apologize for our betrothal.” Her warm breath tickled my neck. “In spite of your wishes not to remarry, you agreed to Pitt’s stipulations in order to save my life.”
“As I told you before, I hold myself responsible for bringing you here and putting you at risk.”
“But if I had behaved above reproach, like Izzy. . .”
“Izzy is indeed more docile.” I had the feeling that docile or not, Olivia’s presence at Tolleymuth would have stirred trouble. She was too striking and vibrant to blend in with the other women. She was one of a kind, with a sharp mind and a strong will.
“Since you have been so noble in rescuing me from a perilous fate,” she continued, “I had hoped to find a way to grant you your freedom. Two weeks would give me more time.”
Was that why she’d wanted to wait two weeks for our wedding? Because she didn’t want to impose on me? “And what if I said I didn’t want my freedom from you, my lady? What then?”
“But you do,” she said. “You were quite adamant at the dance that you had no wish to take a bride. In fact, you indicated that doing so would bring you no joy, only displeasure.”
She was right. I had spoken forthrightly about my intentions to avoid Pitt’s scheming, that I’d no desire to remarry, that a woman wouldn’t make me happy. I still believed that to be true, didn’t I?
My steps slowed as I pondered my feelings of late. “I have no doubt the right woman would bring me a great deal of pleasure.” My words were much too bold, but I sensed we needed to speak the truth to survive the realities of our situation. And the truth was, I enjoyed Olivia’s companionship. “But I wouldn’t be able to bring joy to her in return, rather only heartache and disappointment.”
“Are you sure you are incapable of bringing a woman joy?” she asked softly. “You have brought much comfort and happiness to me this day with your kindness.”
Her gentle words commanded my attention. I dropped my gaze to hers to find genuine appreciation in her eyes. And something more: a beckoning.
Was she asking me to give marriage and love a chance?
I quickly glanced away. Surely I was reading into her expression more than she intended.
We reached the top of the stairwell, and I stepped aside at the thickly paneled door that marked the entrance to the tower room to allow my squires to unlock, enter the room, and light the wall sconces. Once inside, I could see that the servants had obeyed my orders to make the room as comfortable as possible.
The bed, though narrow, was blanketed in a clean coverlet. The mattress was full, the sign that the servants had stuffed it with fresh goose feathers. A small writing table, containing parchment, a quill, an inkpot, along with several books, had been placed under the high barred window. The shutters had been thrown back to allow the night air to cool the room.
The servants had placed Olivia’s chest of clothing and other personal items against the opposite wall. They’d followed my instructions and had recovered more of the gowns we’d confiscated from her home and had folded them carefully and laid them on the top of the chest.
I strode across the room and lowered Olivia to the bed. As I released her, I realized suddenly that I had no desire to relinquish my hold. I liked having her close.
Even so, I wrenched my arms away from her, thankful for the presence of the squires waiting outside the door to hold me accountable for my actions. As tempting as it was to linger in Olivia’s room and perhaps steal another kiss from her, I needed to proceed with care.
She snuggled into the mattress and released a contented breath at the same time that her lashes fell to her cheeks.
She lay there, still attired in the headdress and gown I’d chosen for her to wear to the betrothal ceremony, and I could only guess how constricting the items were. But she’d been exquisitely beautiful in them, and she’d been pleased to wear something fine and pretty again.
You have brought much comfort and happiness to me this day with your kindness. Her words rippled through me.
Had I really brought her comfort and happiness today?
I’d failed so miserably to bring Giselle happiness. I’d tried to love her, but I’d fallen short. I didn’t want that to happen again. But what if it did? What if I somehow failed Olivia too?
I took a step away from the bed, away from the temptation she posed.
She didn’t stir. The deep rise and fall of her chest told me she was already asleep.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. I could only watch the tawny firelight flicker in waves across her smooth features, highlighting the elegant lines and slopes in her face.
There was the very real possibility I would marry this woman within the week. And while my stomach flipped and floundered at the possibility, it also seemed to tangle itself into knots with every flip.
Could I give myself permission to attempt to love again and hope to get it right this time? Or should I keep my heart closed off? If I kept the barriers up, I would protect Olivia from getting hurt if I failed her.
The last thing I wanted to do was harm her. But a fear deep inside my bones warned that I’d hurt her no matter which way I chose.