Miss Goldsleigh's Secret (24 page)

Harrington held up his hands in surrender but couldn’t disguise his amusement.

“You stup—” Henry started in on the duke.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to him.” Morewether indicated Harrington, who guffawed in response.

Henry shot his friends a quelling look then turned back to the captain. “If you’ll turn around now, you’ll still be able to ride the tide back out.” He hated that it sounded like he was begging.

He was begging.

If Olivia wasn’t on this ship, she was on one of the others. If they got back now, they might not be too late. If he didn’t find her before she boarded some anonymous ship, he’d never see her again. Damn it. This was all his fault. If he had the opportunity to do it over, like when they were kids and they didn’t like how a game ended, he’d have forgotten how angry he had been and he would have held her instead.

“I’ll not turn around. But there is one thing I can offer you.” The captain said it in an off-handed way, as if he didn’t expect them to like what he suggested.

Henry was game. “Yes, whatever it is, yes.” Even Morewether and Harrington stopped bickering and making fun of him long enough to listen.

Johnson signaled with the stem of his pipe. “There’s a dingy. She’s small but water tight and has a good sail. If any of you has any skill, you could be back in London by nightfall.”

“Sold.” Harrington the sailor headed for the ropes that would lower the vessel into the water.

“You have got to be bloody kidding me.” Morewether looked at the small boat in horror.

Henry made a face. He wasn’t any more excited about flopping around in the water in the tiny boat either, but getting home was paramount. “Come on, Morewether. How badly does your prick want to make its appointment?”

“It’s either that or we’ll land in Boston in forty-five days, if we keep the wind and don’t hit any bad weather.” The bowl of his pipe lit bright red as Johnson drew on the stem.

“Get in the boat, Christian. Dalton and I are leaving, with or without you.” Harrington’s tone did not sound as if he was willing to wait for his friend to make up his mind.

“Fine. I’m going to be so irked if I drown.”

“What about this other one?” Johnson pointed at Reginald.

“He’s yours in trade for the boat. Sell him, trade him, drown him,” Henry told the captain. “Whatever you want.”

Johnson poked Reginald with his toe. “You are definitely getting the better end of this deal.”

Reginald groaned and tried to sit up. Henry shoved him back with a vicious thrust from his boot. “You come back to England, I guarantee you’ll hang for the solicitor.”

The coward quailed and didn’t try to regain his feet.

The boat was water tight and the sail was good. The American hadn’t lied about that, but it seemed ridiculously small next to the behemoth, Mary’s Patriot.

“Good luck, gentlemen.” The American saluted over the rail as the ship pulled away in the waves. “Until we meet again.”

Henry was positive he heard the captain laughing.

“He better fucking hope not,” Morewether growled.

Harrington was preoccupied raising the sail while Henry directed the tiller towards home.

“If you’re going to row,” the earl told Morewether, “then use both oars at the same time.”

“I know how to row a boat, Thomas.”

“No, you know how to spin in circles. When’s the last time you rowed a boat?” Henry suspected the last time Morewether was in a rowboat was to get a lady alone in the middle of a lake and little to no rowing skill was involved.

Morewether stood, causing the vessel to rock perilously. “All right, you know so much, you row the fucking boat!”

Henry grasped both sides of the dingy. “Sit down, you idiot.”

“No.” Morewether walked to the aft where Henry steered. “We’re switching. This is your fault, and I don’t want to row anymore.”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“Move.” Morewether stood with both hands on his hips and stared down at Henry.

Henry heard the yell from Harrington, “Watch out! Here comes the boom!”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Anna perched as high as she could get and used a spyglass to watch the ocean.

“There’s something over there.” Anna pointed to the right. “Starboard I mean. I keep seeing a small sail between the waves.”

Francesca gave directions that turned the yacht and headed it on a course to intercept what Anna saw. Olivia scrambled up to sit next to Anna and took a turn with the spyglass. She concentrated on the section of ocean Anna indicated. Sure enough, a white triangle appeared then disappeared, appeared then disappeared with the waves. It didn’t take long for the Auburn Maiden to sail close enough that Olivia could make out distinguishing features.

“There are three people on board,” she announced with rising excitement. “I think it’s them.”

The people from the dingy saw the Maiden and began signaling them with flapping, waving arms.

“It’s three men,” Olivia called out. “Oh, thank God in heaven, it is them!”

A loud whoop erupted from the deck of their yacht, and the ladies danced around a bit, congratulating each other on a job well done. Francesca hollered directions over the wind to bring them alongside the dingy.

Olivia glanced about her as the ladies trimmed sails and other boaty things. Not one of them looked as if they’d fit in at a ball later that evening. They had broad grins on their faces.

The Auburn Maiden pulled up to the dingy and three gentlemen standing with their mouths agape. Henry was unbearably gorgeous with his jacket and cravat off, his shirt undone at the neck, his wheat-blond hair ruffled in the breeze.

“Ahoy,” Francesca called out. “That’s what you say, right?”

“What are you doing?” Harrington demanded of his wife.

“We’re rescuing you,” Francesca replied with a huge smile.

Olivia, Penny and Anna crowded around her at the rail of the yacht.

“Who’s skippering my yacht?” Harrington asked, searching behind them, undoubtedly for a seasoned sailor.

“She is,” Anna pointed to Francesca.

Harrington’s gaze narrowed at his wife. “You don’t know how to sail.”

“Obviously I do.” Francesca narrowed her gaze to match her husband’s. “We’ve managed just fine.”

“I can’t believe you stole my boat,” her husband yelled.

“Look.” Francesca pointed to her husband, the others from both boats afraid to interrupt. “Do you want a ride, or do you want me and my crew to turn this boat about and go home?”

“No!” Henry tore his gaze from Olivia’s and focused on Harrington. “We want a ride. Apologize to your wife.”

Harrington tossed a rope, and Anna tied it off to the stern with a perfectly serviceable buntline hitch. Morewether was the first to climb aboard, soaked to the bone and shivering.

“Your Grace.” Olivia took his freezing-cold hand. “What happened to you?”

“They threw me in because I wouldn’t row.” He sounded like a petulant child.

“What?” the four women said in unison. Anna and Penelope took him to the leeward side of the yacht and wrapped him in a blanket from below.

“We didn’t throw him in. He wasn’t paying attention and the boom got him,” Harrington said as he made his way on to his boat. Francesca had been very clear about the dangers of the boom. “Come here, pirate wife.”

Olivia looked away while Harrington apologized to his beloved.

Henry was the last to come aboard. Olivia was afraid to meet his eyes. There were so many things he could say, and each and every one of them would be fair.

“Olivia.” The rumble of his voice slid over her like a warm blanket.

“I’m so sorry, Henry.”
So sorry.
Where was she to begin?

“I was certain you were on a ship bound for America.”

Olivia longed to hold him, to smooth his tousled hair, to kiss his chapped lips. “I meant to be, but I couldn’t go. I’d made a huge mistake already, and I realized I couldn’t compound it with another, even bigger one.” She couldn’t let Reginald win, and for all intents and purposes, he would win if she sacrificed everything for her cousin’s sick whims. She’d not boarded that ship because she loved Henry. It was a love worth fighting for, and she wasn’t giving it up without a hell of a battle.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” His eyes darkened to match the deep blue of the ocean.

“I was standing on the dock watching the ship I didn’t board sail out to sea.” Olivia paused when Henry took her hand, his warmth radiating up her arm. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw you sail away.”

Henry chuckled, and her breath hitched when the sound triggered an even more visceral erotic reaction.

“Yes, we were quite surprised.”

“I’m so sorry, Henry, for everything.”

“Stop apologizing.”

Before Olivia could apologize for always apologizing, his head dipped and he kissed her. His lips moved over hers, slowly yet demanding, as if he had all the time in the world to explore her mouth. Her lips parted, and she gave herself to him as she’d done before. The breeze drifted away, as did the smell of the ocean. Everything was Henry: his scent, his taste, the feel of his hands holding her tight against his chest. How could she have ever considered for one moment that she could have lived without this? She was overwhelmed with feelings of love for this man who’d torn out of his comfortable, scandal-free home and jumped on a ship to America in every effort to bring her home.

Home.

Finally, Henry pulled back from the kiss, but his arms stayed wrapped tight around her. Olivia felt safe and cherished and something else. Was it loved?

“I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” Henry whispered into her hair. “Don’t ever do that to me. Please.”

It was the please that was her undoing. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Sorry I didn’t tell you everything straightaway. Sorry I put your family in danger. Sorry I didn’t trust that you would protect me even after you vowed to do so.”

He kissed her, probably to silence her babbling. It worked. When they came up for air, Olivia was too dazed to speak.

“Dearest heart, it is I who should apologize. You’ve worked so hard taking care of yourself and your brother, of course you thought to continue doing so. I should have seen Reginald promised more danger than you let on. You didn’t need a fiancé, you needed a champion, and I failed to be that for you.”

“No.” She made to protest but he kissed her once more.

“But don’t ever think to sacrifice yourself for us ever again. You take on too much.” He held her face in his capable hands, his gaze intent on hers. “It isn’t your fault your mother and father died. It certainly isn’t your fault you were targeted by a madman. It’s not your responsibility to shoulder the world’s burdens.”

“I am not your responsibility either.”

“Except I want that responsibility more than anything. I want to keep you safe for the rest of your life.”

Olivia bit her lip and blinked furiously. He did? He did. She believed him, but nothing was ever as easy and uncomplicated as everyone wanted it to be. “But there’s still the problem with my cousin. He’s not going to just go away.

“He’s gone,” Henry said with a smile that made his beautiful face breathtaking. “He won’t come back.”

Gone? “What do you mean gone?”

“We traded him to the American captain for the dingy.” His laughing eyes told her he spoke the truth. He must have read the real concern she couldn’t keep from him. “He’s gone, Olivia. He killed your father’s solicitor, thinking he could keep you from getting your inheritance. If he ever comes home, he’ll hang. You’re free, and you’ll have enough money to choose the life you want.” When she didn’t speak—solely because she couldn’t form the words without her voice cracking—he rushed to fill the silence.

“I never proposed to you. I was arrogant enough to think you’d want to be my wife simply because I said so, that I offered you immediate protection in an emergency, but I know now that wasn’t enough. You are more than capable of making your own decisions.” Dalton took a deep breath and then bent to one knee on the wet teakwood deck of the yacht. She gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. “Miss Olivia Goldsleigh, I love you. I want to always know you are safe in my—our—home. Please choose a life with me. Say that you’ll consent to being my bride.”

There were more gasps and chuckles, and for the first time since Henry had stepped onto the deck, Olivia remembered there were more people present than just the two of them.

Penelope openly cried, and Lady Francesca clung to her husband as if remembering a similar scene of their own. Anna and Morewether both wore happy grins.

“For the love of Mike,” Morewether called out, “answer the man before he has an apoplexy.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. She pulled Henry to his feet with a gentle tug to his waistcoat. “Yes! I love you, too, Henry.”

This kiss was epic.

“Just so you know, when I’m a marchioness, I can’t be running off to rescue you like this all the time.”

Somewhere in the hazy background she heard Morewether say, “Don’t they look like two golden deities standing together in all their blinding blondness?”

“Well, I will say one thing for sure,” Harrington noted with a chuckle, “she’s definitely better looking than Harvey.”

Epilogue

“Henry!” Olivia smoothed down her skirt. Again.

“Look,” her husband said with obvious delight. “There’s a traffic jam. Oh my dear, we’re going to be stuck here for hours.” He pulled shut the blind over the carriage window with a wicked grin.

“I hope not.” Olivia peeked out the opposite window, and sure enough she could see nothing ahead of them but dozens of stopped carriages, wagons and milling crowds. “The regatta starts in less than an hour, and it won’t do for the chairwoman sponsoring the event to miss it.”

Henry reached over her and drew down that blind as well. Now, he loomed over her with a wolfish smile. “The things I can do to you in an hour. It boggles the mind.”

“Henry.” She tried for a warning tone, but it didn’t seem to come out right. It was hard to hold on to decorum when he did that thing with his tongue on her neck. “This afternoon is very important to the Foundation.”

“Don’t worry. My sisters are already down there helping with the refreshments. They’ll make a nice representation.”

She moaned and rolled her head back against the plush padded seats.

“Lady Harrington and Miss Anna are there, too,” he added.

“They hardly count.” She speared her fingers through his hair while he unbuttoned her blouse, kissing and licking each inch of exposed skin. “Francesca is racing in the regatta.”

Her blouse lay wide open, and his mouth was too busy with her breasts to comment on the unlikelihood of a countess racing in a charity regatta on the Thames. It was the first society function to benefit her new charity, The Foundation for Women on Their Own. Olivia was so thankful for the unfailing participation and support from her friends and sisters. Since she’d invested her entire inheritance into the idea, they’d all jumped to get the organization on its feet.

Henry knelt on the floor between her legs and wrapped his arms around her buttocks to yank her to the edge of the bench seat. The position fitted them together to perfection. Olivia wondered if he’d considered that beforehand or if it was a happy coincidence. With Henry, things such as that were rarely happy coincidences. Like the flowers she’d found growing under their tree in the secret garden the last time he’d lured her underneath.

He ravished her mouth while he raised her skirts and found she’d failed to wear drawers under chemise. His sexy chuckle at the discovery aroused her further.

“I say, the marchioness isn’t wearing pantalets.” His fingers strayed to brush against her most sensitive skin.

“Every time we get in a carriage, they somehow end up torn.” Olivia’s hips moved of their own volition. “I will begger you by the end of the year with buying new linen if that keeps up.”

Henry rubbed the front of his trousers against her and moaned at their combined friction. “Perhaps it would solve a great many problems if I simply forbid you from purchasing new drawers.”

“You can try,” Olivia teased. “But your sisters have shown me the joys of shopping.” She managed to undo the five buttons of his waistcoat and yank his shirt out of his waistband. He hissed his pleasure when her hands slid across his skin and down the back of his trousers to grip his rear end.

He nipped the tendon of her neck before he pulled back and gazed at her seriously for a moment. “Have I told you how proud I am of you and your Foundation?”

“Yes, but you can say it again.” She kissed him and nibbled his bottom lip.

“I am. You’re a remarkable woman, buttercup.”

“I love you, Henry.”

“I love you.” He went back to the task of showing her how much.

“You know what I wish though,” she asked, and started in on the buttons of his trousers.

“Hmmmm?” Once again, his mouth was too busy for anything but murmured syllables.

“That just once we could arrive somewhere without being rumpled.” She eased her hand down the front of his trousers and smiled when she found what she was looking for.

“Not bloody likely.” His sentiment ended in a groan of pleasure as he slid home.