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He considered all his years of sexual excess, wondering if at moments like this he was meant to regret them. But he couldn’t. He’d learned a great deal, and now Olivia was the beneficiary. Was Abbot right? Was he growing old? Because instead of dreaming of catching the ferryboat to Paris, all he really wanted to do was lie here in his bed in his castle with his woman in his arms.
Domesticated Nic? The idea made him uncomfortable, but he forced himself to stop and look at it. He smiled wryly. Could Wicked Nic really live a life of cozy nights dining in and cozy mornings making love to his wife? Or watching her tending to their child? No, children, he corrected himself. He’d been an only child, and he was strongly of the opinion that he’d have done much better with at least one brother or sister.
He’d sworn never to marry. Was he changing his mind? After one night? It was ridiculous, insane, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The rake wasn’t tamed, no never that, but maybe, just maybe, he had met his match.
There was a soft knock on his door. Before he could tell whoever it was to go to the devil, it opened, and Abbot stepped inside.
“My lord?” he said quietly. “I was just…” His voice trailed off.
Nic saw him peer toward the bed, and something in the stiffness of his bearing told him that his manservant knew very well who it was sleeping beside him. A wave of guilt washed over Nic as he remembered his assurances that no harm would come to Olivia, but almost immediately he replaced it with anger.
He’d damned if he’d be dictated to by a servant!
Nic sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Abbot took a step back—perhaps he was planning to run for it—but Nic stopped him with a single word.
“Stay.”
He pulled on his trousers, leaving his chest bare, and reached for the half-full glass as he passed, drinking the brandy down in one gulp. His leg ached, twinging with every step, but he ignored it, just as he’d been ignoring it for the past nine years. He shoved Abbot outside the door into the corridor, closing it securely behind them.
Abbot didn’t even draw breath.
“You swore to me you would return Miss Monteith to her home. I would never have—” His voice was low and harsh, as if he was having trouble keeping the emotion from it, and his face was even more creased than usual.
“What time is it?” Nic interrupted.
With difficulty Abbot swallowed down his ire. “Nearly time for luncheon.”
“Hmm. Better wait until nightfall then, before you take her home. Bring some food up, Abbot. I’m famished.”
“Lord Lacey.” Abbot took a deep breath. “My lord, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situa—”
“You think not?” Nic mocked. “Let me see. I’ve seduced a woman of impeccable breeding and respectable family, and ruined her utterly.”
Abbot was struggling to hold his tongue.
“Actually, I think I’ve done her a favor, Abbot. At least she’ll have something to remember when she marries that bore Theodore.”
He sounded cruel. He was angry and disturbed and he hardly knew what he was saying. He didn’t want Abbot’s disapproval, he didn’t need it. He knew what he’d done.
“I cannot begin to imagine what repercussions this will—”
“What if I marry her?”
Abbot stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, then made a snorting noise and turned down the corridor, his back stiff as a poker.
Nic gave an impatient sigh and went after him. “Abbot, wait,” he began, but when his manservant turned troubled gray eyes on him, he hardly knew what he was going to say. “I never intended it to happen,” he said, rubbing a hand over his own eyes, feeling weary and depressed. “I tried very hard not to let it happen.”
“She’s a respectable young lady. You always said you would never make it your business to—to consort with respectable young ladies. Not after—”
“I did say that, and I meant it.”
Abbot considered him in silence. “If we can get her away tonight with no one the wiser then all will be well, my lord.”
“Will it, Abbot? You don’t think I need to go down on my knees then and pop the question?” He laughed, but it had an odd forced sound.
“Not unless you want to,” Abbot said, with a lift of an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you want to marry Miss Monteith?” he added, for good measure.
“No! Yes…Blast it, how should I know?” Nic turned away. “Fetch us something to eat and drink, man.”
