“I did as anyone would have done.” His tone was dismissive. “It was nothing.”
“It’s notnothingto me,” she protested. “I like being alive, thank you very much.”
He gave her one of his rare smiles that involved his lipsandhis eyes. Reaching over, he tugged gently on one of her ringlets. When her brother Christopher pulled her hair, Livy found it annoying, but she didn’t mind when Hadleigh did it. He brooded too much, and it was nice when he acted more carefree.
“I am glad you are alive too, little one,” he said softly.
Glad that he was back in good spirits, she said, “What were you going to say about the girls at school?”
“Find a friend amongst them,” he said. “I would wager not everyone agrees with what Sally did. Unlike you, they are probably just too scared to stand up to a bully.”
“I will try.” She sighed. “I cannot wait until next year when Glory and Fiona join me at the school. Then I will have true friends by my side.”
“The three of you together?” Amusement lit Hadleigh’s eyes. “Sally Sackville—nay, the world—had better watch out.”
Present Day
“Drat.” Beneath his floppy chestnut curls, Will’s little face was disgruntled as he looked at the board. “Livy wins again.”
Livy gave her youngest brother an affectionate look. At eight years old, he was as competitive as she was. It was lucky that Christopher, their middle brother, possessed an easy-going temperament, or their games would devolve into bloodshed.
At present, she and Chris were sitting with Will on his bed. Will had delicate lungs, a fact that frustrated the poor dear to no end. In particular, the London air brought upon a shortness of breath that prevented him from romping around as he liked. To cheer him up, Livy and Chris had brought in a game of anagrams.
The game was also a good distraction from Livy’s own despair. Since Hadleigh’s rejection three nights ago, she had shed countless tears in private, crying herself to sleep. Even though Fi and Glory had visited, giving her encouragement, she’d been despondent. Could there be anything more devastating than the man you loved telling you that he only thought of you as a younger sister?
“You could let Will win for once,” Chris said under his breath.
Livy was glad to have her mawkish thoughts interrupted. At sixteen, Chris was tall and lanky, with their papa’s handsomeness and dark coloring. He was the charming peacemaker of the siblings.
“How would that help our brother become a better player?” Livy pointed out. “I am teaching him what it takes to win.”
“I don’t want Livy to go easy on me,” Will said adamantly. “I am going to beat her all on my own. It is like that story Papa tells about the spider and Robert the Bruce:if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.”
“All right, little king,” Chris said good-naturedly. “You can go first this round.”
As they took turns drawing letters from the pile and using them to form words, Livy found it difficult to keep her mind on the game. The tale of Robert the Bruce and the spider, one of her childhood favorites, whirled in her head.
As the story went, after losing six wars to the invading English, the Scottish King had taken refuge from the enemy in a cave, where he saw a spider try to weave a web from wall to wall. Six times the spider tried to throw the thread to the opposite wall; six times she failed. Yet on the seventh try, she succeeded.
According to folklore, this inspired Robert the Bruce to persevere, which led to his trouncing of the English army in his seventh battle. Scotland’s independence was recognized…all because the brave warrior—and the spider—refused to give up.
A sudden recognition flared in Livy.If they didn’t give up…why am I doing so?
Love was a battlefield, and fortune favored the bold. Hadleigh might think of her as a sister now, but surely she could change that. After all, her own feelings for him had been transformed in a single, scorching moment. Livy felt a hot flutter as she recalled seeing Hadleigh with Lady Foxton. Until the moment she had peeped into the stable, she had thought of him as a friend. Yet as she’d watched Hadleigh spank his voluptuous lover over a bale of hay, wanton longing had spread through her.
A part of her had known that she ought to be shocked. Disgusted by such a display of depravity. What she hadactuallyfelt was fascination…and need.
When Lady Foxton had begged Hadleigh to give her release, an electrifying sensation had swept through Livy. The peaks of her breasts had stiffened, a pulsing urgency at her core. As Hadleigh had rutted Lady Foxton, his lean hips slamming against the other’s jiggling bottom, his hands holding her hair like reins as she mewled in delight, Livy had shivered with a strange and undeniable recognition.
She wanted to be where Lady Foxton was. To be Hadleigh’s lover. To be the only one to feel his masterful touch, to moan beneath his potent caresses…and to hold his heart. The truth had cascaded through every cell and fiber of her being:I am in love with him.In that instant, her girlish adoration had been transformed into a woman’s awareness and determination.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ben Wodehouse.
And she would not let one measly failure dissuade her from her goal.
“It’s your turn.” Will’s impatient voice cut through her flash of insight.
Chris gave her a quizzical look. “Is something amiss? You never wool-gather during a game.”
