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With a grin, she sauntered over to the small table that held the chess set and sat. He joined her and in short order they were engrossed in the game. Thirty minutes later, she murmured, “Checkmate.”
Tobias chuckled. “I am fascinated by your strategy. At times reckless, and at other times masterfully brilliant.”
The praise stunned her, and acting on instinct, she leaned over and kissed his chin.
They both went absolutely still.
“Did you by chance, countess, miss my lips?”
“No…this arrogant cleft is right where I wanted my mouth,” she said huskily.
He smiled and her heart lightened. She wasn’t about to wallow in misery. Life could only move forward and she resolved to make the best of her marriage. In time, affection and trust would surely develop between her and the earl. In fact, she would work to ensure it.
Chapter Thirteen
Tobias dipped the tip of the quill into the inkwell for the last time. Deep into the fictional world he had created, it took him a few moments to realize there was a steady knocking at the door of his library. He frowned. The entire staff knew that right after breaking his fast, he ensconced himself in his library for at least two hours writing his novels, before facing the duties he had to deal with for his many estates. “Who is it?”
“It’s Livvie.”
A blast of pleasure filled him. He froze. Unusual indeed. He had been trying his damnedest to not recall their wedding night and the depth of strength it had taken not to lose himself in her as he had done in the closet. Her fragrance lingered on his fingers, her taste on his lips, and in the deep recesses of his heart, he wished he had been untamed with her. “Enter.”
The handle twisted and when she appeared, his mouth dried. Her loveliness was very fresh and appealing. Her dark red tresses were caught in a simple chignon, and a few tendrils caressed her cheeks. She wore a pale blue high-waisted dress, and she had a book clasped in her hands. His heart jolted when he saw it was a copy of In the Service of the Crown. “You read the work of Aikens?”
A wide smile stretched her lips. “Yes, do you?” she asked excitedly. “It’s clever and intriguing, and I highly recommend it.”
He grunted noncommittally, but raw pleasure blasted through him. She liked his writing. “I see.”
“Aikens’s work is quite wonderful,” she gushed, more earnest than ever. “I urge you to read In the Service of the Crown. I have the first eight volumes with me, if you wish to borrow them.”
Masking his delight at her praise, he casually leaned back in his chair. “I’d not thought such books were suitable for a young lady.”
She rolled her eyes. “I daresay if men can read it, women can. There is nothing there to shock and traumatize us delicate young ladies. Unless you count the few kisses and seduction Wrotham has employed to retrieve secrets?”
Good God. Kisses and seduction? Tobias knew damn well he wrote more scandalous encounters than mere kisses.
“Which volume are you?”
“I am at volume seven.”
It was volume eight and nine that dealt with the ruthless art of seduction. Should he allow her to read further? He recalled promising not to censure her reading choices.
“What are you writing?”
He glanced down at the loose sheaf of papers and quickly organized them into a pile, then opened his top drawer, laid them down neatly, and locked it with a key. He did not share his writing with anyone but his publisher. He did not consent to interviews, nor to public appearances. He was truly anonymous and his publi
sher was bound by a very strict and ironclad contract to never reveal that the Earl of Blade was Theodore Aikens. As a child, he’d been desperate to escape the violence in his home, and he’d found his sanctuary in books. When the stories in his library had no longer offered Tobias the comfort he sought, he’d created the world he craved, a world where he had complete and utter control of all characters, emotions, and situations. It was such a private part of him, he wondered then if he would ever be able to share such an intimate side of him with his countess. Perhaps never.
After pocketing the key, he glanced up.
Wicked laughter danced in her eyes. “It’s a secret. I like secrets, and it’s quite evident, my lord, you possess one.” She sauntered over to the desk, trailing the tip of her finger across the hardwood desk.
Just looking at her made him ache to touch her, to take her. He pushed from the chair and stood. “Then it’s best I take care to hide my key.”
She chuckled, then sobered. It was then he spied the wariness in her eyes and understood. He had been struggling to find his equilibrium since she had entered his life, how unsettling things must be for her as well. He now had a wife…and he was at a loss as what to do with her. His days were structured to write, manage his estates, write motions for parliament, practice his fighting forms, and, if he needed, visit a lover in London. A tightness settled in his chest. Olivia was truly his wife. He had to learn to share his time and interests.
“Mrs. Potter gave me a tour of the estate. I tried to tell her I have been living here for weeks, but she was not deterred. Grangeville Park is very happily situated and it is a wonderful estate.”
Five years ago, the estate had been crumbling. He’d spent thousands of pounds to restore it to such beauty, and he liked the admiration he spied in her gaze. “Thank you.”
