“Lean down for me,” she whispered.
He pushed his face toward her and her fingers rose to tangle in his gray hair. His eyes closed of their own volition at the tender touch and he held the position until her fingers fell away. The way she touched him held no pity for the aged state of his appearance and when he opened his eyes to view her face, her eyes had grown dreamy. “Perfectly respectable once more,” she murmured with a pleased smirk twisting her lips.
She swiped at a dust mark on her gown and then laughed. “Whereas I look like I lost a battle with propriety. At least I have this room’s dusty state to blame for the condition of my gown. I’ll suggest a maid be sent here before the wedding and that should disperse suspicion of my activities.”
Oliver blinked at Elizabeth’s fast return to practicality. Were women not supposed to act more affectionate after making love? Last night she’d dozed between bouts of lovemaking and he’d had no time to observe her mood. Had he misunderstood everything about women? He wanted to hold her, but instead he brushed at the dust marks on the dark wool of her gown until they were less noticeable.
Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around the stem of a candelabra and moved to the door. At the last second, she turned her head and winked at him. “Come along, Mr. Randall. I’m sure I can find plenty of ways you can help us prepare for this wedding. Are there any more closets like this, long forgotten and suitably private?”
“I’m not sure.”
Her smile widened. “Then you’d better stay close to me while we discover the truth.” With her free hand, she beckoned him to follow. Reckless passion stirred in him again as he collected the remaining two candelabras and hurried after her. He was certain there were more forgotten chambers inside Romsey in which he could be close to Elizabeth.
Chapter Eighteen
A SECRET AFFAIR was exactly what Beth had needed to regain her confidence. Since she’d shared Oliver’s bed, she rose to face each day with renewed optimism that all would be well, her heart eager to see what would happen next. She wasn’t even concerned too much over her son’s preference for Oliver’s company. Oliver could give George the dispassionate guidance he needed without attempting to take his father’s place.
She looked ahead to the tree line and spied three tall shapes striding along the path that led directly toward the abbey. Oliver was out on his daily walk, likely suffering through his brother’s demands he remain at Romsey. They would have no luck. Oliver had made his decision to go.
There was nothing anyone could say to sway him from his purpose, which made Beth even more determined to make her time with him as memorable as possible. The wait for George to fall asleep each night, or for Oliver to find her and lead her to a deserted chamber nearby for a brief taste of passion, consumed her every thought. She did not know how the outwardly reserved man did it, but one glimpse of his lean profile turned her thoughts to wickedness and the best way to get him alone.
“I’ve booked passage for us on December third,” Henry said suddenly as they entered a barren archway, waiting for spring to fill it with the color and the scent of wisteria in bloom.
Beth, who’d been lost in her memories of Oliver’s lovemaking, stared at her brother-in-law in shock—that was the end of the week. He’d been at Romsey for over an hour and hadn’t given a hint that their departure was imminent at any time before that. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned returning to America at all. He’d just walked and huffed occasionally at each pretty spot they came across. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s very sudden.”
Sensing the panic in her voice, George returned to her side and his hand slid into hers, squeezing tightly.
Henry, never one to hide his scorn for her reluctance to embrace his plan to relocate, rolled his eyes disdainfully. “I’ve a business to return to and no more time to spend on nonsense such as this.”
He waved at the gardens around them. The sun had come out today and since the weather was so pleasant, they’d been strolling, giving George a chance to stretch his legs and get to know his uncle. At least Beth had thought it was pleasant. “I’ve barely considered what to pack for us. We cannot be ready to sail on Friday.”
Henry stopped and set his hands to his hips. “What could you have to pack? From what I’ve heard, you sold off practically everything my brother valued as fast as you could.”
Beth’s temper rose at the accusation underlying his words. “I sold the things from my dowry in order to survive.”
Henry made an indelicate sound that had George clutching her whole arm and crowding her back. Her son wasn’t warming to his uncle the way she had imagined and she didn’t blame him. Henry wasn’t particularly likeable. Once, they’d talked about Henry’s return with hope and optimism for his presence. How badly had they got it wrong? Henry wasn’t the family or savior they’d longed for. He meant to break them to his will.
He wagged a finger in her direction. “Well, there had better not be too much useless rubbish coming with you. I’ve no time or patience for extravagances.”
Beth drew herself up straight, determined not to cower to such a bully. “We’ll take what we own.”
Henry snorted again and looked about him, his expression one of extreme distaste. “I’ll come for you early, as the sun rises on Thursday. We’ve a goodly distance to travel and no time to shilly-shally about. Do not keep me waiting.”
A movement caught her eye across the garden and three tall forms came into view, moving toward them: Oliver in the company of his two brothers. Her heartbeat sped up a touch. Oliver’s steely gray hair was mussed from the wind and a healthy glow lit his cheeks. He appeared the picture of health at last.
Warmth pooled between her legs and she scrunched her toes in her slippers to fight the reaction. Since he’d kissed her, made love to her, she’d had a great deal of trouble getting her traitorous body to forget during the daylight hours what his touch did to her senses. A riot was the best description and she couldn’t afford to show any hint of it before others. Especially not now.
Oliver could never know that she was in love with him, had been in love with him her whole life. He wanted none of that and, with Henry standing at her side watching her behavior for signs of wickedness, she couldn’t even risk hinting that she was pleased to see him looking so well.
Thankfully, it was Leopold Randall who hailed them and approached first, Oliver and Tobias were engaged in deep conversation and trailed behind.
“I wondered when you’d call again, Turner,” Leopold began as he thrust out his hand. “I was about to send word to you. Care to come shooting tomorrow? I can lend you a prime piece if you require one.”
“That sounds a fin
e idea,” Henry agreed and the two soon fell into a conversation of guns and hunting that excluded everyone else. Tobias and Oliver joined her.
“Never much cared for shooting,” Tobias muttered as he caught Beth’s eye and winked. “Especially not once I’d had the whole estate pointing guns at me.”