He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side in the manner of a parent that refused to be deceived by a wayward child. Then he nodded toward her hands and dropped his gaze to his shoulders.
“Y-you want me to put my arms around your neck?”
His mouth quirked upward a little and he nodded.
“You’re not going to put me down, are you?”
He shook his head.
She circled his neck with her arms, and a jolt of need rippled through her as she touched his skin. Then she winced at the soreness in her palms, and he frowned.
“I-I grazed my hands when I fell.”
He dipped his head until his chin came into contact with her arm, closed his eyes, and inhaled. Then, tightening his hold, he opened them again, a determined expression in his eyes, and set off, following the path toward the edge of the forest.
Though Olivia had felt she’d been in the forest for hours, the return journey seemed to take mere moments. Her husband never broke his stride once, moving swiftly through the forest and the meadows, not slowing when the ground sloped upward more steeply. As they approached the house, Olivia caught sight of her maid running toward them, followed by the housekeeper.
“Oh, thank the Almighty!” Mrs. Brougham cried. “Lady Devereaux, I was so worried. We’ve been looking all over…” Then she let out a cry. “Oh my,lookat the state of your gown! What’s happened?”
Devereaux set her down, then made a series of gestures.
The housekeeper nodded. “Very good, sir. Come, Susie, stop dawdling and give me a hand.”
Devereaux carried Olivia into the house, his boots clacking on the marble floor. He strode toward the morning room and kicked at the door, which swung back and slammed into the wall. Then he crossed the floor and laid her on the sofa.
“Really, there’s no need…” she began, sitting up, but then he took her shoulder and gently, but firmly, pushed her back. He slipped a cushion under her feet, his touch featherlight despite the size of his hands.
Then he drew up a chair and sat. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, fixing his gaze on her.
“Husband, I—”
“Shh…” He placed a finger on her lips, and she held her breath as he traced the outline of her mouth with his fingertip. His eyes, which she had thought a dark, unforgiving color, were, at close quarters, the color of rich chocolate, with small accents of gold that seemed to glow in the candlelight.
Her skin tightened with want as he caressed her jaw, and her breath hitched as he placed his fingertip under her chin and tilted her head upward to bring her lips closer to his.
She parted them in anticipation, pushing aside the disappointment of their wedding day, when he’d refused to kiss her. He moved a fraction closer, and her heart soared with hope.
Then the door burst open, and he withdrew. He leaped to his feet as Mrs. Broughman entered with a tray laden with bandages and bottles, followed by Susie carrying a brandy decanter—the same decanter that Olivia had taken an illicit sip from earlier that afternoon.
“Susie and I can take care of the mistress now, if you’re wanting to get on, sir,” Mrs. Brougham said. “Men are neither use nor decoration when it comes to tending to the sick.”
Anger flared in his eyes, and he made a gesture.
“Very well, have it your own way,” the housekeeper said, an undertone of mirth in her voice. “Far be it for me to interrupt when you’re atoning for your neglect of your wife.” She gestured to a jar on the tray. “Don’t be putting that on her foot, now. It’s for her hands. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried to feed it to her.”
Olivia held her breath. Such incivility in a servant would surely warrant dismissal. But her husband merely rolled his eyes, then made another gesture. Mrs. Brougham raised her eyebrows in mock horror.
“The same goes to you, Master Charles. You’re not too old for the strap, you know.” Then she gave a smile of indulgence. “Now don’t be drinking all the brandy. It’s for Lady Devereaux, though you may pour yourself one as a reward when you’ve done your duty.”
Behind her, Susie stood, eyes widened in fear as she glanced from the housekeeper to their master.
“Come along, girl, there’s no need to be standing here gawking,” Mrs. Brougham said. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your mistress is in good hands, though I hesitate to say that in front of the master in case it goes to his head.”
“Yes, Mrs. Brougham.” Susie bobbed a curtsey then exited the room, and the housekeeper followed, leaving Olivia with her husband.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As soon asthe door closed, Olivia’s demeanor changed, and the fear returned to her eyes.
