Page 61 of An Earl’s Path to Passion

Chapter 25

Her mother settled Olivia in the carriage, gazing at her steadily. Her face was etched in concern.

“Are you certain you do not wish me to accompany you home?” she asked, for the third time. “I am worried about you, Olivia. You are not feeling ill at all?”

Olivia just managed to stop herself rolling her eyes. She was so weary of her mother and grandfather always thinking that she was becoming ill when she was tired, or in a bad mood, or desired solitude.

“I am quite well, Mama,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Just tired. Please, stay with Emma. She is having a good time and wishes to remain. She needs a chaperone, as you know.”

“We could all go,” said her mother, in a hesitant voice. “There will be other balls. I am sure Emma will understand…”

“No!” Olivia’s voice was sharper than she intended. “I shall be fine. Please, Mama.”

Her mother bit her lip, looking hurt. “Very well. I shall check on you when we get home.”

“No need,” said Olivia. “I shall be fast asleep.” She laid a gentle hand upon her mother’s arm. “Please try to have a good time. Do not worry about me.”

Her mother nodded, kissing her on the cheek, then walked back into the house. Olivia sighed, leaning back against the carriage seat. She felt so drained. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed.

But before the carriage could pull away, the door was reefed open. To her shock, Captain Fletcher clambered into it, sitting opposite her.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

He ignored her question. His face looked hard, as if it were set in stone. “Why are you leaving so soon and not with your family?”

Olivia gaped at him. “How did you even know I was leaving?”

“I ran into your mother,” he said, in a curt voice. “She told me.”

Olivia shook her head incredulously. “And so, you decided to rush out and ambush my carriage? For what purpose?”

He hesitated. “You looked… upset earlier. I just wanted to make sure you are well.”

Olivia’s heart flipped over. “I did not think you had noticed me at all,” she said, in a voice sharper than she had intended. “You seemed very busy with Lady Lydia Grantham.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice, milady?”

Olivia glared at him. He made her so furiously angry all the time that she could barely stand it. She just wanted him to vanish from her life completely. Why, oh why, had Grandpapa ever searched for an heir and foundhim?

“Will you just leave me be?” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I do not understand why you insist upon talking to me, when you despise me! Can we just leave each other alone and be done with it?” Desperately, she held back the tears. “I know that we must remain acquainted because of Grandpapa, but that does not mean we have to interact. We can just ignore each other.”

He was silent for a moment. “I cannot do that,” he said slowly. “I wish I could.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped. “What… what do you mean?”

He swore underneath his breath. He did not look happy. In fact, he looked tormented. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I cannot leave you alone,” he continued, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Lord knows I have tried. I swore to myself I would leave you be.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “But here we both are.”

Olivia’s heart started racing erratically. He leant forward, touching her hand, ever so gently. A touch as light as a butterfly’s wing. Her stomach lurched violently. Even the slightest of touches from this man sent her blood racing through her veins.

“Olivia,” he whispered, enunciating the syllables in her name slowly, rolling it over his tongue as if he was tasting honey.

She sighed tremulously, watching his hand move up her arm, slowly stroking, with the same fascination that a bird watches a worm. Her skin felt scorched by his touch. To her dismay, she realised that she had started to shake, quite violently.

“By Jove’s beard,” he muttered. Before she knew it, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. Like a blind man, he groped for her mouth with his lips. When they connected, it was with the intensity of a fire suddenly leaping to life.

Olivia went limp in his arms. She could not fight it. She did notwantto fight it. She almost whimpered when he touched her breasts, his fingers grazing the nipples through the fabric of her gown. And then he slipped one hand beneath her bodice, cupping a breast, kneading it ever so slowly. His lips never left hers the whole time.

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