Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

T he days dragged interminably for Olivia. As one week melted into the next and she saw her husband less and less, she became listless and sullen.

And so it was, one morning while sitting in the breakfast nook, nibbling on a piece of buttered toast, wearing only her night gown and a satiny robe over top, she determined that this was the life she was going to be forced to lead.

My marriage will be loveless. My husband will seek his pleasures elsewhere, and my only comfort will be that I have been saved from scandal.

When she had spent the week at the Dowager Countess of Langford's estate, Olivia had craved peace and privacy, but now, what she would not give for someone, anyone, to interrupt her solitude.

Just as the thought presented itself, her husband appeared in the doorway. He was immaculately dressed in a riding habit that was made of a beautiful forest green fabric. His breeches were a tawny shade and fit snugly, and as she laid eyes upon him for what felt like the first time in weeks, something stirred within her.

"Oh," he murmured as he spotted her seated at the other end of the room. "I did not know you were here still, my lady. Perhaps I shall break my fast later."

"No," she said, rising slowly to her feet and gesturing to all the empty chairs. "Do join me."

"I…I think I will." He pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the table, situating himself as far from her as he could possibly get.

She watched him fuss with his cloth napkin and fiddle with his knife and fork before reaching to grab a piece of dry toast from the rack. Fascinated by the way he so studiously kept his eyes locked on that morsel as he ate, she watched him carefully, and when he dared to allow his eyes to drift toward her, she seized the moment.

"Tell me," she prompted, "why did you give me that book?"

"Hmm…?" he hummed, for she had caught him while his mouth was full of toast.

"I wish to know why, upon coming here, you sat me down immediately and presented me with a book that would only serve to ignite a fiery passion within me."

He swallowed the bit of toast he'd been chewing, then, instead of answering her, he took another bite.

Annoyed, she stood, allowing the ends of her robe to hang open, presenting him with a full view of the lightweight, sheer fabric of the nightgown she wore underneath.

"My lady," he rasped, nearly choking on his meal, "you are in an undressed state."

He put down the remainder of the slice of toast then quickly slurped a drop of tea. "Should you wish to take your breakfast in a more informal manner, you need merely ring for the housekeeper. I am sure one of the maids would obligingly bring whatever you want to your bedchamber. As the lady of the house, you have the right to…"

"I know what rights are due me as the lady of Frontershire Manor," Olivia snapped, losing her patience with him. "And I know perfectly well what rights I have been denied." She skirted around the corner of the table and strode purposefully toward him. "And that brings us back to that awful book." She leaned forward, placing her palms on the table, standing so near to him that her curtain of hair hung forward and dangled close to his cup of tea. "I must know. Why did you give it to me?"

He sat up straighter, putting some space between them, so she edged back, wanting to watch his face as he explained. But he offered no explanation, and instead, he questioned, "Have you not found the contents of the book illuminating?"

Frustrated, she ground out, "Do not flip the interrogation on me, my lord. I asked you a direct question twice, and I anticipate that as the lady of this house, I have the right to expect a proper answer."

He blinked owlishly but said nothing.

She shifted her weight so that she could perch on the lip of the tabletop, but as she moved, her eyes stayed trained on his. "Why, my lord?" she whispered. "Why did you press that book upon me? Did you mean to tease and tantalize me…or did you have other reasons for giving it over?"

He tipped his head to the side and regarded her pensively. "What other reasons could there possibly be?"

She gulped then said the thing that she had been keeping inside over the last few weeks, the fear that had rankled within her from the moment Lord Ridgewell suggested it might be a possibility.

"Did you give me that book because you wanted me to learn, but once you understood I was unteachable, you decided to seek your pleasure elsewhere?"

He jerked back further in his seat and sat in a more upright manner. "Are you asking if I have taken a mistress?"

Annoyed, Olivia clenched her fist and pounded it lightly on her thigh, aiming to work out a little of her frustrations. "Must you persist in only answering my questions with more of your own?"

"Forgive me, my lady, but I am shocked. We have been married for less than a month and already you think to accuse me of…"

"I do not know what to think," Olivia cried as she threw up her hands in defeat. "One moment, we are locked in a passionate embrace, and I am crying out your name blissfully and the next…you have abandoned me…left me all alone here and…"

"I have disappointed you?"

"Immensely," she returned, not bothering to shield her true feelings from him.

Carefully not touching even a wisp of her night dress, John reached forward, snagged the sash on her robe, and hastily pulled it tight. He made a bow then once more, resumed his previous pose, sitting with his hands resting near his plate.

"Why did you do that just now?" she felt compelled to ask.

"I realized how exposed you were, my lady, and I did not want someone to walk in here and…"

"But who should walk in?" she demanded. "We are utterly alone."

"Frederick is still here. He shall remain on for at least another fortnight and…"

"The Viscount Newley has seen plenty of women in varying states of undress, and I am sure he should not blush if he were to happen upon me now."

A small smile, the likes of which Olivia felt she had not seen in weeks, quirked the corners of John's lips. "That may be true," he murmured, "but just the same, I would prefer it if Frederick did not ogle my wife and…"

"Why not?" Olivia interjected. "Why should I be forced to spend entirety here by myself. You will not have me, so why not allow someone else to…"

"Enough!" John stood so abruptly that when he vaulted from his chair the leg scraped against the floor making a harsh, grating sound.

"Finally!" Olivia cried in frustration. "There is a little of the spirit you once possessed in spades."

He eyed her quizzically. "You meant to excite my temper?"

"I meant to do something ," she returned, never wavering from meeting his gaze. "As you said just now, we have been married nearly a month, but I am Lady Frontershire only in name. I am not your wife or your companion. We have not shared ourselves with each other and…"

She had become so impassioned during this little speech that she had started breathing heavily, and she noticed when John's gaze flicked downward. He looked longingly at her breasts, so she stepped nearer to him, tempting him to touch her.

He could not ignore the inducement. Slowly, he lifted one hand and used the tip of his finger to trace the curve of her bosoms through the thin material of her dress.

"Is that what you want, my lady? All you want? Is that why you come to the breakfast table without a corset or chemise? You want me to take you right here and now…to claim you as mine…and to call you my darling wife?"

"Yes," she answered simply. "That all sounds just right."

He snickered faintly as he lifted both hands, jerked open the fine, silky robe, pushed it off her body, then released the bow that was holding her nightdress in place upon her shoulders. The sleeves slipped, and Olivia tipped her head back, relishing the feel of the warm morning air on her skin.

"And so, I should peel away your clothes now," John whispered as he lowered his head and allowed his lips to hover just above the soft hollow in her neck. "We are alone here, as you well know, and there is no one and nothing to stop us from being together."

She nodded then leaned forward, pressing her breasts against him, so she could whisper directly in his ear. "No one. Nothing. We could run naked through the field and dive into the pond, and no one would…"

"The pond?" John backed away from Olivia so quickly that he nearly tripped over the chair behind him.

Disconcerted, she stared at him. "Yes, my lord. The pond. I have walked around it daily whilst out on my rambles of the grounds, and I just thought…"

"I do not go near the pond," John said as he circled around his chair, putting the solid object between them.

Olivia was taken aback. Feeling slightly exposed, she shrugged her shoulders, pulling her nightdress back to where it had been previously. The robe still lay at her feet, but there was little she could do about that. Then, she fixed him with a shrewd stare. "I did not know you were afraid of the water."

"I am not afraid," John said in a tremulous voice that did nothing to assure her he was speaking honestly. "I merely think you should be more cautious, my lady. It would not do to run about the manor without wearing a stitch of clothing and as for going down to the pond…"

"Forget about the pond then," Olivia grumbled. "Take me now. Here, in the breakfast nook. Over in the library. Or carry me to one of the seventeen bedchambers in this manor house."

John seemed startled by her sudden fit of fury, and he stood there, stock still, staring at her.

She softened her tone then and tried a different approach. "Do you know that I wait for you in the library every day? Certainly, I go there to read and to peruse your book collection, but I also sit on the window seat and wonder if you will come to me."

She stepped around the chair, eliminating the obstacle between them. "And when you do not come, I feel disheartened." She gazed up into his eyes and continued, "After we were first married, while traveling here, you told me you wanted me to live a happy and fulfilling life, my lord, but I am neither of those things—happy or fulfilled." She sighed. "I have read that book you gave me from cover to cover several times, and even though I feel I better understand the affairs that are meant to take place between a man and a woman, I do not comprehend your actions at all. There is nothing in the book to guide me, and so I beg of you, my lord, simply tell me what is wrong between us."

"There is nothing the matter between us," he whispered.

"Then why do you leave me to read that book all alone and pleasure myself?"

His eyes widened as a flicker of something akin to desire raced through them. "Do you pleasure yourself, my lady?"

Olivia saw the opportunity when it presented itself, so she seized the moment. "If you should like to know what I do when the candles have burnt low and everyone else in the house has gone to bed, come seek me in my chambers tonight."

John inclined his head slightly to the left, indicating he was giving her proposition a sincere amount of consideration.

"And if I do meet you there, my lady, will you show me what you do to yourself when you are all alone?"

"I will show you whatever you want," she replied evenly.

It was difficult to keep up this sort of banter. Whilst she had read the book many times, as she just admitted, she had until now been granted very little time to practice the arts of seduction. She knew what she ought to say, but the words did not pour from her lips easily. She hoped that something she said would spur John to action, so he might commence with the wooing, but what he said next was less than helpful.

"And if I do not come?"

Olivia nearly cried out in frustration. "I do not know what will become of us, my lord."

Severely put out by what she saw as his obstinate nature, she stomped away from him, heading toward the open doorway and exit. But just before she swept from the room, she turned and fixed him with an impatient stare.

"Be my husband. Be the Charming Rake. Be whomever you like, my lord. But do pick a personality. This back-and-forth dance we are stepping is exhausting, and I cannot endure the ambiguity."

Feeling fully unsatisfied with every aspect of the conversation, Olivia stomped grumpily from the room and retreated to the library where at least she knew what to expect: quiet and solitude.

That night, sleep eluded Olivia. She tossed and turned in her bed, rumpling the sheets, twisting the covers, and feeling nothing but anguish as it rolled through the pit of her stomach. She longed to see the devilish look of desire dart through John's eyes, and even reading the book did little to satiate the thirst inside her that begged to be quenched.

She stayed up much later than usual, hoping that John might come to her if for no other reason than because he was intrigued by the idea of seeing her act out some of the scenes from the book, but no one disturbed Olivia that evening. Once she bid her lady's maid good night, she was left entirely alone. Her only companions remained her dreary thoughts, and Olivia took no comfort from those.

By the time her eyes grew heavy, and her lids started to droop, Olivia's mind was exhausted, and she simply waited for sleep to find her. She stretched her limbs long and sprawled in the center of the bed. Just as she dropped her head onto the downy pillow, a scream rent the still air.

What was that?

At first, Olivia was certain she was hearing things. Outside of John and Frederick and the few servants who moved quietly around the house, there was no one staying at Frontershire Manor. And certainly, there was no one living here who might cry out so wretchedly during the darkest part of the night.

A horrible scream arose once more, and Olivia sprang from her bed.

Who can that be?

She might have been able to ignore the noise had it only sounded that one time, but when it repeated itself, she could hardly be expected to stay still. Her heart pounded in her chest as she flew from her bedchambers searching for the anguished person or perhaps the wounded animal that was suffering, for indeed, the cry she had just heard was so loud and full of torment that she could well imagine a suffering creature making such a sound.

With just her light, flimsy nightdress covering her body, the warm night air wrapped around Olivia as she ran down the hall, stopping at each doorway to listen and see if there might be a person within who was the one enduring what could only be described as torture.

When she reached the final room at the end of the hall, the one reserved for the master of the house, she heard John groan. The sound he made was not the anguished, almost panicked cry that had urged her to act, but it was still distressing to hear.

Quickly and quietly, she opened the door to his room and saw that he was the unsettled party. He had given up on shrieking, but John was rolling from one side of the bed to the other, struggling against the blankets, pushing and pulling them as he fought a battle in his nightmares that he seemed to be losing.

Stunned, she stood there for a moment, watching him grapple with his nighttime torments, but then, when his lips began to move feverishly and it seemed as though he were muttering in a thousand different tongues, she unfroze from her place and ran to his side.

"John…John…" She grasped hold of one of his bare shoulders and shook it. "John, do wake up."

In response to her entreaty, he thrashed out, clutching and clawing at his pillow, effectively shaking off her hand.

"John!" She grew more concerned. "You are dreaming. Do not persist in this way. Do not…"

But as the words tripped from her lips, and she fought to break through whatever was keeping him asleep, quite suddenly his eyes sprung open, and he stared at her blankly.

"John," she whispered, terrified by what she was witnessing. "Are you…are you…?"

"Olivia," he murmured.

His eyes remained glassy and dazed, but it was such a tremendous comfort to hear him say her name that she exclaimed joyfully.

"It is me," she said, leaning closer to him, scooting further onto the bed so that she could offer him support. "I am here with you."

"It's so…so cold out here…Freezing."

John shivered, and that is when Olivia noticed his nakedness. He wore not a stitch of clothing and because he had been doing battle with his sheets, he was wholly exposed.

"Come," she said, disentangling bits of the sheets and offering to wrap him in them. "You are trembling. Allow me to help you get warm."

"The water…the water is icy," John whispered as his teeth started chattering.

Olivia wrapped both arms around him, pulling him as close to her as she could manage, sharing her warmth with him.

"What water?" she breathed.

And then, just like that, John escaped his trancelike state.

"Where am I?" he asked as his eyes focused on her.

"We are in your bedchambers," she replied. "You were asleep…having a dreadful nightmare it seems, but…"

"A nightmare most terrible," he said as he wrapped his long arms around her waist and laid his head on her chest. "Thank you…thank you for waking me but do return to your room now."

She could feel the dots of perspiration that coated his forehead, and Olivia wished to do something that would soothe her husband. "I am here, with you," she whispered softly. "I shall not leave until I know you are well again."

"I will be fine soon enough," John said as he snuggled closer to her.

"I will not go," she assured him. His words led her to believe he wished her gone, but his actions were contradictory. With each passing second, it was as if he were pulling her nearer. "I will stay here…with you…for as long as you like."

Over the next few minutes, neither of them spoke, but she listened closely as John's breathing returned to a normal pattern. Moreover, she paid careful attention to the way his body was behaving. It took much longer than she would have anticipated for his quaking to subside, but she held him tight and did not intrude upon his private thoughts by asking all the prying questions that flew through her brain.

When he released a disheartened, despondent sigh, she said simply, "So, it is over? You feel yourself again?"

"It will never be over," John murmured thickly. "I will never forget what happened to Percy."

Percy!

Olivia felt as if she shouted the name of John's brother in her head, but she did not dare allow herself to so much as breathe it aloud. The last time she had asked about Percy, John had withdrawn from her directly and completely. He had shunned her company entirely, and she was not about to invite that to happen again.

So, instead of saying all she was thinking and asking any one of the myriad questions that floated through her head, Olivia murmured a gentle, "Mmm-hmm…" and waited for him to tell her more.

"It was a night not at all like this one," John began. "The air was crisp, cold, and the Christmastide season was upon us. We were but four and twenty back then, and Percy, he…he…"

Olivia made another agreeable sound, quietly urging John to continue.

"He was in love," John whispered. "During the Season, he had made his match with a young lady named Violet. From the moment he laid eyes upon her, he was smitten. Our father died when we were but fourteen, so Percival had been his successor for many years already. He was a fashionable marquess, well-liked, and admired by all for his charming personality and good looks…but when he met Lady Violet…"

"Yes?"

"She ruined him." John gulped then readjusted his head on Olivia's chest before continuing. "He loved her madly with a ferocity that I did not know was possible. He was careful never to bring shame upon either of them by crossing any lines, but at his very first chance, Percy proposed to her, asked for her father's blessing, and cheerfully began making wedding preparations."

"So, Percy was married?"

"No," John groaned. "It was that December, just two weeks before the wedding was set to take place when Percy learned that Lady Violet had betrayed him. She had fallen in love with another, given herself to another man and…"

Olivia gasped. She could not fathom a young lady behaving in such an abominable manner.

John ignored her soft sounds and continued telling his story. "And Percy was enraged. She had promised herself to him, and he, in turn, had trod so carefully. He had done everything he could to bring her pleasure, and yet…it wasn't enough." John buried his head deeper in Olivia's chest, and as the words poured from his lips, they were muffled.

"One night, in a fit of temper, Percy drank deeply. He was in his cups and slurring his words. He cursed love and those who fell victim to it, and he entreated me to never make the same mistakes. He wrung from me a promise that I should live my life as a bachelor and only take a woman to my bed when I wished to find pleasure or sire an heir."

"An heir?" Olivia, of course, recalled the conversation she and John had in the carriage on the day they arrived at Frontershire Manor, and she knew why he had truly gone to seek a wife at the dowager countess' house party, but what he said did not make sense. If Percy were the marquess, then surely, he would be the one to provide an heir.

"Yes," John groaned. "For Percy knew what he was doing. As soon as I vowed to follow his guidelines to the letter, he jumped from his seat and dashed through the house. I trailed after him, surprised by his alacrity, considering how much wine he had consumed. He wove his way out of our home…this home…and darted toward the pond."

"The pond?" Suddenly, Olivia understood her husband and his behaviors so clearly. When she had mentioned going and diving in the pond earlier in the morning and he had bucked at the idea, he had very good reason to do so.

"Percy stripped off pieces of clothing as he ran then dove into the icy waters. It was so cold, so very cold, and dark." John's body started trembling once more. "Percival was an excellent swimmer. Accomplished, some might say. But he was also determined that evening. He had decided never again to see the light of day, so even though I plunged in after him, I couldn't…I couldn't…"

"You could not save him," Olivia whispered, comprehending well the end of this sad tale.

"I dove hundreds of times, called out for help, but there was nothing to be done. I was there when his head sunk below those frigid waters, and I was there when…when…"

"Oh, John," Olivia breathed, hugging him tighter.

She wanted to ask why he had not shared this story with her before, but she did not. She already knew the answer. How could one bring up such a tale in polite company? Should he have told her whilst seducing her at the house party? She saw clearly why he had kept the details of this tragedy to himself and only felt aggrieved that he should have been forced to struggle all these years with his remembrances of that night on his own.

John wriggled away from her slightly so that she was able to look down and stare into his eyes. His pupils had grown large and black, and as he gazed at her imploringly, she could tell there was something he longed to ask.

"What is it?" she prompted.

"Love…the love Percival felt for Violet ruined him. It shattered his whole being, and I promised him I would never allow myself to…to…"

He broke off abruptly, and when he continued speaking once more, his voice was quiet and full of pain. "I know I have no right to ask you this because I have not been the very best of husbands or friends to you, but do you love me, Lady Olivia? When you look upon me, do you see…?"

"I see a man who is broken and grieving," she answered honestly. "I see a person who has suffered terribly and has done all he can to move beyond that awful tragedy and make something new and different from his life."

"I do not come here…to my country estate often…for this very reason," John murmured. "When I am here, I feel Percy's presence most acutely and…"

"I understand," Olivia whispered. "After my father passed last year, I was devastated. There were days when I could not walk into his study without thinking of finding him there, sitting behind his desk, reading a book on politics rather than perusing the business documents he was meant to scan." She sighed. "That is why I allowed my mama to drag me to the countryside for the Dowager Countess of Langford's soiree. I could not bear to be at Tottingham Manor anymore without my papa and…"

"You have suffered too." John lifted his chin higher and met her gaze once more.

"I have lost a loved one," she agreed. "And I am afraid that sort of pain will never subside unless…"

"Unless?" he ventured.

"It is no consolation, to be sure, but I think, if we should pour our love and strong emotions into one another, in time, we might find a healing balm that we both so desperately need."

"So… you do love me?" John questioned earnestly.

"I want to love you," she replied.

And then, he bent his head ever so slightly and touched his lips against her own.

Every time they had kissed before, Olivia had felt as if they were a pair of lawn bowling balls knocking into each other, colliding enthusiastically as they both sought to satisfy their urges.

But as John covered her mouth with his lips and slipped his tongue inside this time, he did so with such great tenderness that a wave of content washed through her whole body. Her passions were not ignited, and she did not want him to tear and rip her clothes as she had read all about in the book he gave her. She wanted to live in this moment with him and simply relish the cool caress of his kisses as they trailed away from her lips and tickled her earlobe.

Since she had only read about what came next, Olivia stayed locked in the moment, not daring to take the lead, but instead, allowing John to work his way slowly through the motions of love making.

He removed her nightdress by pulling the satin string then painstakingly worked it over her curves, touching her hip, thigh, and bottom as the only material that separated them disappeared.

Every time they had shared intimate moments before, there had been so much talking, so much explaining and taunting. But now, words were deemed superfluous. As John caressed her backside, Olivia purred her satisfaction, and he responded by lowering his mouth and sucking on her nipples which were already erect and hard.

When her thighs were slippery with wetness, John lifted himself onto his elbows and hovered just above her body. He rested his manhood between her legs, and a quiver of desire coursed through her abdomen.

She had envisioned this moment happening more heatedly with John throwing her down and simply ravishing her. But this was better. He was not the Charming Rake, a dastardly devil, or even the melancholy man with whom she had been sharing this home the last month. He was simply John, and when he slid his bulging member inside her, she was Olivia.

He moved over top of her slowly, and she saw that he was doing as much because he was trying not to hurt her. She had read about the pain that often accompanied the first few encounters between a man and woman, but just now, she did not feel even the slightest pinch. She reached out and draped her arms around his hips, silently letting him know it was okay to thrust harder. As her fingertips touched his bare skin, John let out a tremendous groan of pleasure, so she massaged his muscles, feeling the way they rippled as he moved.

"Yes," he moaned. "Touch me."

She ran her hands over his chest and arms, grazing her fingernails lightly over his skin. When he thrust deeper, a small, unbidden moan escaped her lips. As she made that sound, he whispered, "You know what I want, Olivia. Give it to me."

"John," she breathed, and as she said his name, he pumped harder. "John."

With each motion, her own pleasure heightened, and she could feel her climax building. Not a full minute later just as she was singing his name, praising him for bringing her to the edge then pushing her beyond, he cried out as well.

"Olivia!"

Then, he shuddered, jerked, and twitched before collapsing fully on top of her. She panted for breath, relishing the aftereffects that sent a warm, relieved feeling throughout her own body. And as John rolled off her, she turned toward him.

"Magnificent," he muttered. "Simply incomparable."

"Oh?" Olivia teased as she reached over and skipped her fingers along his broad chest. "But I did not even get to show you all I have learned from your little book."

He turned and propped himself on his elbow, so he was facing her. "There will be time for all that later," he said as he scooted closer and wrapped one arm underneath her. He pulled her to his side so that she settled snugly into the curves of his body before resting her head on his shoulder.

"Do you think we should…"

"Rest," John whispered as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. "We may do whatever you like tomorrow, my sweet, but for now, let us sleep."