Griffin studied her profile. Its unlined purity was in complete contrast to her rather jaded perspective. “Have you ever been in love?”
“No.” Then, because he said he appreciated her candor, she turned to him a second time and pinned him with an inquiring glance. “Have you?”
He did not answer immediately, not because he was searching for the proper response, but because he was trying to decide if he would give her any response at all. What loyalty did he owe his wife? What explanation did he owe Olivia? “Yes,” he said. “Once. And briefly.”
She regarded him steadily, satisfied with his answer. He did not have the look of a gentleman eager to reacquaint himself with that thorny emotion. “Perhaps we will suit, you and I.”
“It’s occurred to me also.”
Olivia nodded, looked away. “Will you want me to undress?”
“Eventually.” Griffin leaned forward and unclasped her hands, drawing one into his. “But I suspect you will be cold if you do so outside of the covers. Your hands are already like ice.” He tugged so gently that she could have mistaken it for her own movement toward him. With his free hand he raised the bedclothes. “Come. You will find it considerably warmer on this side of the blankets.”
Olivia used the toe of one foot to remove the slipper on the other. When the second slipper dropped to the floor, she slid in beside him and unbelted her robe. He helped her out of it, tossing it at the foot of the bed, but he did not draw her down as she expected he would. He gave her part of his pillow instead, and she supported herself against the headboard just as he did. Her shoulder lay against his upper arm; his fingers remained laced in hers.
“Are you breathing?” he asked. “You do not sound as if you are breathing.”
She sipped the air. “I am now. Thank you.”
He smiled. He realized of a sudden that he appreciated her company. “If you wish, we can sit for a time. I cannot think of a single reason that we should rush our fences.” He gave her hand a squeeze, laughter lurking at the back of his throat. “Other than your earnest desire to—how did you describe it?—yes, to have done with it.”
“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
Borrowing her words, he said, “I am now. Thank you.”
Olivia closed her eyes. His thumb was making a pass across the back of her hand. She tried to think about only that, but her head throbbed anyway. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and the crease between her eyebrows with her forefinger. “I hope you do not always mean to be so agreeable,” she said quietly. “It will be better if you are not too kind.”
He wished he didn’t understand what she meant, but he did. “All right.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched her massage her brow right up to her hairline. He released her hand, and giving her no choice in the matter, brought her head against the curve of his shoulder and fit his arm around her. Several long minutes passed before Griffin felt most of the tension seep out of her. He nudged his chin in her hair. The stubble of his beard rasped pleasantly against her scalp.
It was Olivia who finally broke the silence, not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was not. “What would you be doing if I weren’t here?”
“Wishing you were.” He could tell she didn’t like that response. “Too amiable? Very well. I would be reading. One or two chapters more, I suspect, then I would have put the book down and slept.”
“Oh. That is good, then. I didn’t know. I thought you might come to my room. It is better this way.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She needed to know there was a place she could call her own, a place of refuge, of sanctuary. “It cannot be important to you.”
“I beg to differ, but I won’t press—unless you think that I am being too agreeable, in which event I will subject you to the tortures of the Inquisition.”
“Do you know such things?”
He nodded. “I am partial to the rack.”
“Really.”
“Mmm.” He kissed the top of her head and breathed in the lavender scent in her hair. She stirred a little in his arms, and he sensed tension pulling her taut once again. Kisses, then, were torture as well, it seemed. “The iron maiden. Shackles. Hammer and tongs.”
“Impressive.”
“Modesty prevents me from agreeing.” He imagined she must have smiled. She nestled a bit, finding a more comfortable position for herself against his side. When she turned in to him, her knee nudged his. Her cheek pressed his shoulder just below the line of his collarbone. If she lifted her face, her lips might brush his jaw or find the underside of his chin. She didn’t move again, though, and after a few moments he realized she wouldn’t.
Olivia had fallen asleep.
Griffin waited until her breathing took on the steady rhythm of deep slumber before he eased her into a prone position. Because she was rather limpet-like in her attachment to his side, he eased himself down as well, pausing only to reach across her and pinch off the candlewick. He drew the covers over them and pulled a pillow closer to support his head. Olivia seemed to prefer to be supported by him, and while Griffin did not mind in the least, he wondered at her reaction when she learned they were not yet done with it.
Curiously perverse creature that she was, he imagined her relief would be short-lived.
