Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

J ohn was just climbing out of the tub and draping a robe around his dripping wet skin when he heard the door to his bedchambers open faintly.

"Put my jacket on the bedstand," he called, imagining his valet had returned with a newly laundered and pressed riding habit. "I will need it first thing tomorrow morning and…"

He stopped short when he looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway to the wet room. "My lady. What are you doing here?"

She stared at him, and it was then that John realized how little quality time they had spent exploring each other's bodies. She might have had one small peek or two while they were engaged in their lovemaking the other night, but she could not have seen everything as she was now.

"My…My lord?" When her reply came out in a slightly dazed and fully bewildered fashion, John felt inclined to tease her.

"Do you see something you like?"

She snapped out of her bemused state at once, and her eyes locked onto his. "I…I have brought you your dinner, my lord. And I think it would be best if you got dressed and met me in the outer room."

"I will do nothing of the sort," he returned boldly, even going so far as to brush the soft material of his robe aside further, guaranteeing she could see the entirety of his manhood. "This is my room, my lady. And if you do not wish to see me in an undressed state, you should be the one to leave."

"I…but I cannot concentrate properly when…when I can see…when you…"

Terrifically amused by her stammering, John walked to the doorway where she was standing, lifted one hand high, and placed it above her head. Ever so gently, he leaned forward and nestled his knee between her legs, parting them, making room for himself. "What do you see, my lady?"

"I see a man…"

"Yes?"

"A man who…"

"Go on," he urged.

"A man who has me at my wit's end," she said as her eyes clamped shut tight.

"What do you mean?" John asked as he backed away from her. Her eyelids fluttered then flew open, and she reached forward to hastily tie the sash on his robe for him. She moved with such lightning-quick speed that he did not even try to stop her, but instead stood there, watching her every move.

"I cannot do this," she said as she dropped her hands back down to her side.

"Do what?"

"I do not understand how to please you," she replied. "One minute, you are cross and surly, and the next, you are tempting and teasing me, seemingly inviting me back into your bed." She huffed exasperatedly. "Please help me to comprehend. Do you want me with you here or in your bed…or do you want me far from your sight?"

John stepped around Olivia and led the way into his adjoining bedchambers. He eyed the tray of food she had brought and left on the bureau, but his stomach roiled at the thought of consuming a single bite. He did not wish to injure her feelings, but since she asked him such pointed questions, there was little way around it. He knew she was trailing after him because he could hear the soft sound her feet made as she shuffled across the plush carpet, and when they reached the foot of the bed, he turned to face her.

Once more, he could see a look of longing, a spark of desire, glittering in her eyes, and had she been just any woman he might love and leave, he would have thrown her on the bed and plunged inside her without delay. But this was his lady…his wife…and he owed her the truth…or at least as much as he could bring himself to say.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but it is my understanding that marriages like ours often operate in this fashion."

"Marriages like ours?"

"A man and his wife do not always need to be together. They…"

"But when two people love each other, they should…"

"We are not in love," he reminded her gently. "Or…perhaps I should not speak for you, so I will say I am not in love."

Olivia sucked in a deep inhalation. "But the other night…while we lay in this bed together, you asked me if I loved you and…" She paused and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his every facial expression. "Why would you ask such a thing if you did not have the same feelings yourself? Why would you seek to extract such words from my lips if you did not…"

He could not allow her to continue with her questions, and so he interrupted. "What a man says while making love to a woman is not to be jotted down as scripture later. He may utter a great many sweet nothings, and she…she should not place any stock in them."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "Then, you mean to say you do not love me. You have no tender feelings for me at all?"

"I think of you fondly," John admitted. "You are intelligent and beautiful, and when you are spurred to act, you do not hesitate to show your feisty spirit." He gestured at her, meaning to indicate the way she had come to his room just now had been an example of such audacity. "But you should expect no other shows of affection or regard from me than respect." He paused before adding, "I learned a long time ago, from Percival that falling in love was a fruitless endeavor."

"How could he have taught you that?" Olivia asked.

John shook his head slowly and then started to turn away from her, but she would not allow it. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her hands right at the nape of his neck, holding him steady, so he could either look in her eyes or stare at the far corner of the room.

"Answer me," she begged. "Share your life with me, John. Open your heart. The other night…when last we were here, you were so perfectly innocent and vulnerable."

He bucked at her use of words. She had described their interaction exactly as he had done when he told Frederick of their lovemaking.

Once again, he meant to turn away, but she held him steady in her grasp. "I do not know what advice your brother gave you. I cannot guess what he said about the highs and lows of being in love. In a drunken tirade, he extracted a promise from you, but you cannot think he meant for one second that you should live out your days like this—closing your heart off and forsaking your own wife."

A flicker of anger arose within John. He swung his head, jerking away from her, effectively disentangling himself from her firm grip. "You have no right to speak as if you know or understood my brother, Percy."

"I did not," she argued. "I have not." She paused and looked at him boldly. "I regret never having the chance to meet your brother, and I know that makes me less than qualified to speak on his behalf, but no one could want you to suffer as you have done. Not a single soul could ask you to shun love, to turn it away, and attempt to live life on your own."

"You understand so very little of the world, Olivia. It is no wonder that you made it so easy for me to seduce you."

She reeled back as if stung by his words. "I…I…"

"If my brother were here, he would caution you, dear lady. He would have sought you out when we were at Auntie Aggie's house, and he would have recommended you take care. He would have warned you to stay away from anyone called the Charming Rake, and he would have insisted that you be cautious and more carefully guard your most tender feelings. He would…"

"That will suffice, my lord," Olivia said in a bitter, dejected tone. "You have made your point clearly, and now, I perfectly understand your opinion on the subject. You think me foolish and…and…excuse me."

She spun on her heel and raced toward the door. John knew he should go after her and apologize, but he could not bring himself to budge. She was the one who mentioned Percy. She was the one who spoke out of turn. So, he would not take back his harshly spoken words now.

With her hand resting on the doorknob and her head bowed, she paused.

"John," she whispered, "I am set to leave for Dewsbury Manor tomorrow morning. Will you join me?"

The request was so simple, so innocently stated that had John been in a giving mood, he would certainly have granted his wife this one request.

"Go alone," he replied in a soft but firm voice. "This time apart will do us both some good, I think, and when you return, we can…"

But Olivia did not give him leave to finish his thoughts. She twisted the doorknob and left.

John merely stood there watching her go and listening to the sound of her footsteps as she ran away from him, moving as fast as her feet would carry her.