Part 40 (1/2)

He watched as they rowed her out.

And he watched her grow smaller and smaller.

And he prayed. And he held his breath.

But she did it.

She got on the s.h.i.+p.

She got on the b.l.o.o.d.y s.h.i.+p.

She never once looked back.

Ah, she certainly knew how to punish him.

He dropped to his knees on the sand and blew out a long breath, wrapping his folded hands across the back of his head.

But this was a calculated gamble. And if it paid off, he promised the Creator it was the last gamble he'd take in his entire life.

Because he did know what he'd wanted to know: he knew now he would be willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

But he wasn't going to do that.

And he knew that she loved him.

But he wasn't going to lead her to that conclusion.

He wanted her desperately, in every way, forever.

But she needed to fight for him.

And in the end, she needed to unequivocally choose him.

For her own sake, and for his.

Oh, he would be d.a.m.ned if he'd chase her again.

He would, however, make it possible for her to catch him.

Chapter 22.

OLIVIA RETURNED FROM ”PLYMOUTH” to find various relatives as thickly scattered about Eversea House as the birds in the trees outside.

”You do have a remarkable glow, Olivia. Talk of abolitionism must be more thrilling than we all thought. Or the waters in Plymouth were healing. Darling, perhaps we ought to go to Plymouth,” her aunt Pauline called to her uncle Phillips, who grunted. ”See how pretty Olivia looks!”

”She's going to be a bride, Pauline. All brides are pretty.” He didn't look up from his newspaper. ”I don't think Plymouth is going to help you.”

”This is all marriage, eventually, my dear,” Pauline said complacently to Olivia, gesturing to her husband, apparently not at all nonplussed, and not noticing or not caring that Olivia was horrified.

”Not all brides are pretty. You should have seen that Waltham chit who was married in our church. She had a tiny little beard.” She gestured to her chin.

This was said by another aunt, her father's sister Araminta, who swooped in to kiss Olivia as she bustled through the room on the way out to criticize the garden.

”More aunts here than at a picnic.” Ian was at her side, murmuring.

”Ha,” Olivia said bleakly.

”At least they aren't all humming 'The Legend of Ly-'”

”Don't you dare say it!” She whirled on him.

And then stormed out of the room.

Leaving all of her relatives bewildered and even Ian blinking.

”Brides,” her aunts said in unison. ”Have to get them married quick. The longer between the proposal and the ceremony, the tetchier they get.”

”We got married straight away, and it didn't sweeten your temper any,” her uncle said.

”Oh!” her aunt swatted him playfully.

And just like that, Olivia's life closed in over her again. Rather like the Red Sea closed over the pharaoh after Moses and his entourage scooted across.

She could almost believe Cadiz had been a dream. But she still had faint bruises where she'd been gripped as she and Lyon had gone at each other like rutting wild animals.

She closed her eyes as desire roared through her at the very thought.

That had not been a dream.

That, and the fact that she'd returned with something of a golden glow, since she'd forgotten her bonnet for a day. She remembered what Lyon had said: people see what they want to see. And never in a million years would anyone look at her and conclude she'd been making mad love on a beach with a vanished heir.

You should do what you think is right.

What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did that mean? If it meant anything at all.

I won't be returning to England with you, Olivia.

Her life was here. Her family was here. Everything she loved and ever wanted was here.

Except him.

Just remember your code.

She lay awake at night in her room, so little changed from the last time she'd seen him. Whenever she did fall asleep she'd inevitably awaken with a start, imagining she heard pebbles thrown against the window.

She leaped up and peered, but it had been nothing but a dream.