Her future may not include the Earl of Kingsley, but she’d done the right thing.
Please God, let me forget these feelings exist!
* * *
Later that night,as she laid in the darkness, unbidden memories intruded to weaken her optimistic resolve. She would never forget the passion of the embrace they’d shared today. She’d belonged to him. He’d belonged to her. It had felt that way, anyhow.
For one shining moment.
She couldn’t help reliving the sensation of lying in the water, Gabriel’s hands at her back and waist. Or sitting in her small parlor, discussing the possible meanings behind Mary Shelley’s writings.
Kissing him… tasting him… wanting him to fill her.
And then she remembered that first night, in the garden. How he’d taken her to see the fountain. He’d intruded quite thoroughly into her world, where she’d find reminders at every turn.
Lying on the grass, staring into his eyes as he’d traced the dandelion along her lips.
She moaned a little and rolled onto her side.
When sleep eventually came, what felt like hours later, rather than bring with it any rest, it assaulted her with images and nightmares.
At first, the dreams were harmless enough. She was walking in the grass, laughing with Gabriel. And then she was alone. The sunshine turned to darkness, leaving her standing in the mouth of the mine. Gabriel’s voice echoed from deep within, angry and panicked. He was admonishing the duke’s workers below to get out because of the curse. And then a thunderous rumbling shook the ground, followed by masculine shouts and warnings. She backed up against the cold and damp wall as men rushed by her to get to safety, all the while, desperately watching for Gabriel.
When she turned to go in search of him, rocks and dirt came crashing down. Into her hair, on her arms, the dirt got higher and higher and higher. Just a few feet away, Luke Smith stood talking with Gabriel, completely unconcerned that she was about to be buried alive.
And then her father was there, handing both men each a handful of money. “You could have been so pretty.” Her mother’s words and voice drifted out of her father’s mouth.
“Help me!” She struggled to get the words out.
“Good riddance to the curse,” her father said, causing all of them to turn and watch as the last of the dirt covered her face.
“Help me!”
Olivia sat up in her bed, gasping and covered in perspiration. It had only been a dream. Lightning flashed inside her room, and then receding thunder rumbled in the distance.
A nightmare brought on by the storm no less. Gulping in mouthfuls of air, she glanced outside, relieved to see the clouds moving away, a faded gray light visible in the east. Morning wasn’t far off.
She could dress and attend to her morning chores before heading over to the Smith household. Even as she climbed out of bed, her knees wobbled, and her hands shook.
Such a horrid dream!
She soaked a cloth in the basin of lavender water on the bureau and scrubbed it over her face. Her hands had stopped shaking by now, but the wet cloth could not wash away the unsettling emotions left over from the nightmare. Terror… fear…
Shame.
Not bothering to wake her maid, Olivia dressed and then took the next few hours to pull the weeds that had sprung up in her garden. The water had soaked the ground making her task easy although she might have preferred them to put up more of a fight so she could work off some of her frustrations.
When dark clouds moved in again just before the nuncheon, she gathered her shovel, removed her gloves, and then located Mary, who was putting on some hot water for tea.
“Will you go to the Smith cottage despite the rain?” the other woman asked.
“The twins might be afraid of the thunder. Mrs. Markham is there but dealing with all the children together alone is challenging enough when the sun is shining.”
“You leave me here feeling guilty, I ought to be looking over you, Miss Olivia, but you’re away all day looking after those poor babes.” Mary kept the dower house spotless, though. In addition to laundering all the bedding and clothes, she mended and sewed and dusted and handled anything else that needed attention.
Olivia hadn’t the heart to inform Mary of her decision to marry Luke Smith. What difference would a few days make?
“You’ve been dealt a poor hand.” Olivia sipped from the warm glass. “Living down here with me, you’ve managed to take on the tasks of at least three people, rather than simply act as my lady’s maid.”
