She took several quick breaths and bent to dust her skirts with shaky hands. “I am an ordinary woman, unworthy of such praise. As interesting as this hidden passageway was, my lord, it has proved a waste of time.”
She settled her shoulders, relieved to bat away what had just occurred between them. But had she? She could neither forget the touch of his lips and the warmth and desire it evoked nor ignore the still rapid beating of her heart.
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Not an entire waste of time, surely.”
She consulted her watch with trembling fingers. “It is well after four. The servants will have need of me.”
Regret in his eyes, he sighed. “If you must.”
Her stomach fluttered, caught by his sad capitulation. He was unpredictable, and she was out of her depth.
“Are we friends, then?” he asked.
Her heart, which had been beating furiously, slowed down as cold reason took hold. Where would their friendship lead them? She feared herself as much as him. She shook her head slowly. They were not friends and never could be. Before she reached a point where she could no longer resist him, she rushed to the door and left the bedchamber without looking back.
Olivia hesitated on the staircase, fighting the voice in her head urging her to go back into his arms and the promise they held. Oh, he would be a superb lover, of that she was sure. But she still had a shred of common sense left. She hurried downstairs. To end up in his bed would mean the end of her life here. And she wasn’t ready to leave. But was it only her need to discover the truth which compelled her to remain under his roof? Or was it Redcliffe himself?
Chapter Fifteen
“Dash it all!”Dominic’s gruff voice penetrated the quiet as he paced the library. He was blue deviled by the need to explain himself. But nothing he thought of to say sounded right, and would only be a lie. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t trust him. He wanted to make love to her, and the fear that she could be gone from his life within days saddened him.
He glanced around what had become his retreat. The solitude he’d once enjoyed now made him restless and lonely.
To rid himself of these thoughts, he left the library in search of Williams, planning to ride out to see the gamekeeper before it grew dark.
After learning from the gamekeeper about the overstocked grouse, which meant less food for the birds and resulted in disease, Dominic decided he and Williams would take the guns out tomorrow to shoot a brace for the table.
Back at his desk, he set a firm plan in place for a shooting party in the autumn. With extra servants, Olivia would make the house ready for guests. If she were still here to organize it. He frowned. When had his life become so dependent on her being in it?
A quiet evening followed, a game of chess after dinner and a discussion about the machinations of the Napoleonic wars. Williams, a keen student of history, prodded Dominic to relate his experiences. He reluctantly obliged him after imbibing several glasses of brandy. The alcohol numbed the worst of those memories and eased his restlessness, which he suspected was due more to what occurred between him and Olivia in his bedchamber.
He must apologize. Tell her he wished the kiss had never happened, which was an outright lie. Assure her it wouldn’t happen again and hope to keep to his word.
Planning his usual morning ride, he dressed in his riding clothes and left the house, pulling on his gloves. Before he’d reached the stables, the Redcliffe coach lumbered up the drive carrying the servants from London.
Dominic instructed Grimsby to let them down at the front door instead of around the back at the servants’ entrance. He wished to see them, and more particularly, Olivia, who would be called upon to deal with them.
Michael ushered them into the great hall to be greeted by Williams. His valet, Cushing, cast an aggrieved eye at Dominic’s carelessly tied neckcloth. “We’ll have your cravats put to rights in a jiffy, milord. I brought my special flat iron.”
“Thank you, Cushing. Your expertise has been missed.”
With remarkable restraint, Cushing did not ask why Dominic hadn’t sent for him earlier, but his glance said it all. Dominic sighed. Right now, he didn’t give a hoot about his damn linens. “Find Miss Jenner,” he ordered Michael.
A few moments later, she came into the hall dressed in the gown the color of which reminded him of ripe apricots.
“Sorry, my lord.” Her voice brisk, she looked past him at the servants. “Mr. Samuels is making jam and bottling the summer fruits.”
She greeted the recent additions to the household. A quiet word with her would be impossible today. Frustrated, he strode to the stables, planning to visit the Johnson farm to check on the new barn.
Preferring to ride alone with his jumbled thoughts, he took his usual route along the bridle path through the woods, which joined the lane farther on. Rain during the night had softened the ground, the trees dripping, ruts in the path filled with muddy water. As he guided Onyx around a deep pothole, the soil caved in and the horse stumbled, throwing Dominic forward in the saddle.
A shot ricocheted through the trees. It slammed, white-hot, into his shoulder.
Spooked, Onyx reared and took off at a gallop. Dominic fought to rein him in, struggling to keep his seat. When Onyx finally slowed, they’d traveled some distance.
Dominic stroked the horse’s foam-flecked neck, his low voice calming the animal. He fought the urge to return and accost the gunman, but he had no gun, and blood dripped from his arm onto his riding glove, making his grasp on the reins slip. He transferred them to his right hand. If the devil had hung around, he could pick him off, and finish the job. And if the fellow knew him, he would expect it. Fighting mad at his helplessness, Dominic studied the wound in his shoulder and made a promise to find him as soon as he’d had it tended to.
He took a shorter route along a rough, heavily wooded path, emerging from the woods onto the gravel road. Who would want him dead? That was no stray shot from the gamekeeper’s gun. Clough worked miles away in another section of the woods.
