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Abbot apologized, although Olivia didn’t think it necessarily his fault, but as he opened the coach door for Olivia, she caught the hint of a smile in his eyes. Perhaps she had things all wrong, she thought, and what had seemed like an argument to her was simply Nic and Abbot’s way of sorting out their differences.
“Are you comfortable?” Nic was watching her from his corner.
“Thank you, yes.”
The Lacey coach might be an antique, old and heavy, but the interior was sumptuous. There was even a monogram etched into the glass windows, an M and a W entwined.
“Who are M and W?” she said, touching the cold glass.
“My parents. It was a love match. You’ll find M and W all over the castle.”
Remembering Nic’s mother and her harsh, unsmiling countenance, Olivia found it difficult to believe she was ever young and in love. She wondered what sort of childhood Nic might have had, and whether love had much to do with it.
Things would be very different when she became the next Lady Lacey, she told herself. Their children would be welcomed and loved, and Castle Lacey would ring with laughter rather than tears. Her thoughts were full of the blind determination that had carried her this far, and if there was a hint of doubt in her heart, then she refused to listen to it. Olivia knew she’d come too far to turn back.
But just for a moment she stared at the entwined letters on the coach window, thinking that not all dreams came true, and not everyone ended up happily ever after, and it was like staring into a cold, deep chasm that had opened unexpectedly in front of her feet.
Nic was trying to sleep. He was tired but not tired enough to stop the brooding thoughts whirling around in his head. After Abbot had collected Olivia’s belongings from the inn and paid her bill, she’d cuddled up in her cloak and a lap rug provided by the ever-reliable Abbot, and promptly fallen asleep. In repose her face held an innocence that made him feel even more ashamed of his lack of self-control.
In the past he’d always assured himself that the women with whom he consorted knew the rules of the game. They were professionals. He did not pursue innocents, and he did not seduce respectable women. The one time he’d become involved with the seduction of a respectable woman, disaster had come crashing down on his family. His father had died as a consequence, and his mother blamed him for his father’s death. Nine years later, Nic was still entangled in that web of deceit and lies.
Why then was he about to make the same mistake? Pursuing and seducing an innocent, no matter that she seemed to want to be pursued and seduced, would have serious repercussions for them both. He’d be setting a marriage trap for himself and dragging Olivia Monteith into the mire of scandal and disgrace.
She didn’t deserve that and he didn’t need the complication.
Eyes closed, Nic toyed with the thought that perhaps he should let Theodore have her. The man was clearly in love with her, and although in Nic’s opinion he wasn’t nearly good enough, Nic had to grudgingly admit that Theodore would do his utmost to look after her. Olivia would be comfortably off, cared for, and treated as she deserved—like a queen.
And with Olivia safe, Nic could then travel to Paris with a clear conscience, despite what Abbot said about being too old.
Blast the man!
He reminded himself that there was a time when Abbot would never have dared to speak to him like that. It was just that after so many years together they had become as familiar with each other as…as, well, friends. The word startled him. He could hear Abbot and the coach driver now, their voices rising and falling over the rattle and rumble of the wheels. He remembered how overjoyed Abbot had seemed when he found out they were taking Olivia home, and how concerned he’d appeared to be that some harm might come to her.
No, Nic admitted uneasily, that wasn’t quite right. Abbot had been concerned that Nic might harm her.
He shifted in his seat, easing his leg into a more comfortable position. Surely Abbot didn’t believe that Nic would really harm Olivia? He might have seen his master do some things they would both rather forget, but Abbot also knew Nic had his own moral code. Nic Lacey had been brought up as a gentleman, and at heart that was what he still was.
What the devil did Abbot want him to do? But he thought he knew. Abbot wanted Nic to marry her. He hankered for the quiet domestic life, wearing slippers and putting his feet up in the evenings, wearing a nightcap and drinking a glass of hot milk. Well, Nic thought irritably, Abbot might be ready to retire but he wasn’t. And why the hell, he asked himself angrily, should he care what Abbot thought anyway!
Nic sank into brooding, his thoughts going around and around, as the coach rumbled onward.
Olivia woke off and on throughout the journey. She was warm and relaxed, and the movement of the coach was soothing. As well as refurbishing the interior, Nic must have had the springs replaced. She could see him across from her, head back against the velvet squabs, eyes closed, his mouth slightly open. Now and again he would give a soft snore.
She felt easy and comfortable in his company, and she couldn’t help but wonder how she might have felt if Nic had done as she wanted him to, and slid deep into her body and made her his own. Surely such intimacy would have brought them even closer, created a bond between them, for how could it not?
The memory brought a smile to her lips. The moments with Nic, brief as they had been, boded well for their future happiness. Olivia was no shrinking violet, and she looked forward to spending many nights in Nic’s bed. And he was obviously physically attracted to her. She imagined them together, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, as he tutored her in all he knew. And because he was a rake and knew so much, it would take him a long time to teach
her everything.
And then what?
Olivia admitted to herself that if she did have a worry about their future, it was that he might grow bored with her. Once they were used to each other, once they had discovered all their secrets, would he return to his old ways? There was that old cynical saying, “Familiarity breeds contempt,” and unfortunately in Olivia’s experience there was some truth to it. She pictured herself in a year’s time, alone in the drafty castle, while Nic rode off in splendor to the demimonde ball…
“No!”
Olivia heard her own voice with a shock, and held her breath as Nic stirred, a frown creasing his brow, before settling into sleep again.
No, I won’t let him go off alone. If he insists on going to the demimonde ball, then I will insist on going with him!
