Page 60 of The Scot Who Loved Her

And she felt it. Felt her insides shredding, her stomach twisting and knotting so hard she could vomit.

Without thinking, Olivia shoved at his chest, wanting him away from her. Wanting to hurt him the way he was hurting her. But no matter how hard she shoved, he barely budged. She heaved at his large body again, growling as she did so. Shoving, shoving, and still, he didn’t move.

Then he grabbed her in a bear hug, his strong hold pinning her arms at her side. He lifted her practically off of her feet, her toes barely reaching the ground. Their faces were so close that if it had been an hour ago, she might have—

Then hewaskissing her. Letting go of his hold on her and placing her on the ground, but only briefly enough that he could wrap his hands around her waist and tug her against his body. She wound her arms around his neck, sinking against him, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Needing, wanting this connection, feeling her body come alive, and knowing that she would surrender to him forever if he asked her right now.

His mouth slid over hers as he whispered, “Ye win. Ye’ve knocked me down, defeated me. No other woman has ever done it. I vowed never to let a woman get close enough, but ye, Olivia Aston, have killed me.”

His words were not said in affection but in sorrow, and then he kissed her again, demanding, punishing. Before she could even grasp what was happening, Malcolm stormed from her bedroom.

Olivia found it hard to sleep the rest of the night, and as a result, when Elaine came to wake her the following morning, she felt foggy and exhausted.

Breakfast was a blur. Malcolm glowered at her over the rim of his cup and every forkful of eggs. She didn’t make any attempts not to glare back. Caroline elbowed her brother so many times in the ribs that Olivia was convinced he’d be bruised. And Thirsty worked so hard to get Olivia’s attention that her right elbow, where her mother continuously pinched her, was certain to bear a purple mark. But still, the two of them could not stop this silent battle.

After breakfast, several in the party walked the grounds. Every footstep felt as though her legs weighed three times as much. Malcolm was noticeably absent, but later, when they gathered to partake in a picnic by a large pond with canoes, he skulked on the peripheral of her vision.

The ladies all collected wildflowers to make floral crowns before they boarded the rowboats on the water. Why at that moment, Malcolm chose to approach her, when she had a fistful of yellow and red flowers that she very much wanted to toss into his face.

“My mother doesn’t want me to talk to you,” she said tartly.

His reply was fast and low-toned. “She told me that the first night we met in London, but that has no’ stopped us now, has it?”

“Then perhaps I should make it plainer. After your rude intrusion last night,Ido not care to talk to you.”

Malcolm swept a hand through his wild hair, shifting his gaze around as if it were hard for him to find words. “I do apologize for my…beastly behavior.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide whether she wanted to believe him or not. “You accused me of killing you.”

“Might we take a walk and talk?”

Olivia glanced over his shoulder where her mother was trying to disentangle herself from the conversation, but Caroline and Jaime took note and wouldn’t let her go.

“I suppose,” she said reluctantly. She hated that whenever she was around him, she seemed to lose her head, her sense and all of her defenses. It was unfair. She shouldn’t want to walk and talk with him, especially after last night. But the need to be near him, her curiosity at what he might say, was overpowering.

Keeping the flowers in hand, they walked along the perimeter of the pond out of earshot from the other guests.

“There’s a orangery and greenhouse ahead. I think ye’ll be impressed by what’s inside.”

Olivia wanted to ask how he knew about it but kept it to herself, nodding as he led her there. The door opened easily, and as the fragrances overwhelmed them, it snicked closed behind them. Inside were towering tropical plants and trees, with pineapples, oranges, coconuts and bananas. The scents were glorious and delicious. She took a moment just to breathe it all in. To let the fragrances calm her.

Malcolm leaned his hip against a raised bed, and she faced him, folding her hands in front of her hips.

“I need to ask ye something, and I need ye to tell me the truth.” His eyes were searching hers, digging for some answer that she would readily provide him if she knew it.

With her eyes locked on his, she said, “I’ve only ever been honest with you, Malcolm.” She was tired. Wished he could trust her as much as she’d given him her trust.

He opened his mouth, but as he was about to speak, a noise sounded from somewhere behind a line of banana trees to their right. They shifted, having both heard it. His hand went to his hip, and he let out a low curse. Perhaps he’d been reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Was there someone else with them?

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

But there was no more noise, which felt as eerie as it had when they’d distinctly heard something or someone a moment ago. The familiar paranoia crept in, only this time she wasn’t alone in hearing things. Whoever it was had to be standing so very still, but even Olivia could sense their presence. Imagined she could feel them breathing.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, put her behind him and pulled out a pistol from his boot. The sight of the pistol startled her. When he’d reached for his hip and found it empty, she’d assumed he was unarmed. Why did he have it? What if it was merely a barn cat that had snuck in? Or a gardener. Did he plan to shoot whoever it was?

She was about to ask if it was necessary when distinct footsteps ran from somewhere in the greenhouse.

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