Again the Magic (17 page)

“Mr. Shaw?” As Aline followed his gaze, she realized what he had seen — Livia, wearing a pastel flower-printed walking dress as she headed to one of the forest trails leading away from the manner. A straw bonnet adorned with a sprig of fresh daisies swung from her fingers as she held it by the ribbons.

Gideon Shaw stood so quickly that his chair threatened to topple backward. “Pardon,” he said to Aline, tossing his napkin to the table. “That figment of my imagination has reappeared — and I’m going to catch her.”

“Of course,” Aline said, struggling not to laugh. “Good luck, Mr. Shaw.”

“Thanks.” He was gone in a flash, descending one side of the U-shaped stone staircase with the ease of a cat. Once he reached the terraced gardens, he cut across the lawn with long, ground-eating strides, just short of breaking into a run.

Standing to better her view of his progress, Aline couldn’t suppress a mocking grin. “Why, Mr. Shaw… I thought there was nothing in life you wanted badly enough to chase after it.”

E
very evening since Amberley had died, Livia had gone to sleep with images of him filtering through her mind. Until last night.

It felt strange to be preoccupied with some man other than Amberley, especially when he was so very different. Remembering Gideon Shaw’s lean face and golden-blond hair, and the gentle expertise of his touch, Livia felt guilty and intrigued and unsettled. Yes, quite different from Amberley.

Her fiancé had not been a complicated man. There were no layers of darkness in him, nothing to prevent him from giving and accepting love with ease. He came from a family of pleasant people, who were well-off but never arrogant, and scrupulously mindful of their duty to those in less fortunate circumstances. Amberley had been exceedingly attractive, with dark brown eyes and shiny brown hair, and a becoming cowlick that made the locks fall in a tempting sweep across his brow. He had been slim and fit, loving sports and games and long walks.

It was hardly remarkable that they had fallen in love, for it was obvious to everyone how well suited they were. Amberley brought out a side of Livia’s nature that she had never been fully aware of. In his arms, she had become uninhibited. She had reveled in his lovemaking, and she had been willing to do anything, anywhere, with passionate abandon.

Now that Amberley was gone, Livia had been without a man for a long time. Her mother had lectured that she should apply herself to catching a husband as soon as possible, before the last vestiges of youth had left her. Livia did not disagree. She was lonely, and she missed the comfort and pleasure to be found in a man’s arms. But somehow she could not make herself take an interest in the prospect… she could only wait for someone, something, to free her from the invisible chains that bound her.

She wandered through the oak and hazel forest, which was unusually dark for morning time, as the sky was still covered with a silver-gray haze. Coming to a bridle path, she followed it to a sunken lane, and paused every once in a while to kick a stone with the toe of her leather walking shoe. A breeze stirred the air, drawing a distant rustling from the forest and causing a lone nuthatch to chirp indignantly.

Livia wasn’t aware that someone else was following the sunken lane until she heard a series of footfalls coming up hard behind her. Turning, she saw the tall figure of a man approaching. He walked with a fluid ease that made his sportsman’s clothes seem as elegant as formal wear. Livia drew in a quick breath as she realized that Gideon Shaw had found her.

As spectacular as he had been in the moonlight, Shaw was even more breathtaking in the daytime, his close-cropped hair glowing like antique gold, his face beautiful but completely masculine, the nose narrow and long, the cheekbones high, the eyes astonishingly blue.

For some reason Shaw stopped as their gazes met, as if he had run into an invisible wall. They stared at each other across a distance of perhaps five yards, while Lydia became aware of a low, warm ache inside. There was a peculiar expression on his face… interest struggling through disillusionment… the reluctant fascination of a man who was trying very hard not to want her.

“Good morning, sir.”

The sound of her voice seemed to draw him forward. He approached slowly, as if he feared that a sudden move might startle her into fleeing. “I dreamed about you last night,” he said.

As a conversational gambit, the statement was somewhat alarming, but Livia smiled nonetheless. “What was the dream about?” she asked, tilting her head as she stared at him. “Or is that a dangerous question?”

The wind teased a lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “Most definitely a dangerous question.”

Livia realized that she was flirting with him, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Have you come to walk with me, Mr. Shaw?”

“If you have no objection to my company.”

“The only thing I would object to is your absence,” she told him, enjoying the sight of his sudden easy grin. Motioning for him to join her, she turned and continued along the sunken lane, toward the gatehouse garden in the distance.

Shaw fell into step beside her, his brown leather boots crunching the stray twigs and leaves that had blown onto the lane. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his tweed coat, casting a sideways glance at Livia’s profile as they walked. “You know,” he said casually, “I’m not going to let you get away from me again without telling me who you are.”

“I prefer to remain mysterious.”

“Why?”

She told him the truth. “Because I did something scandalous in the past, and now it is horribly awkward for me to come out in society.”

“What kind of scandal?” His sardonic tone made it clear that he expected her transgression to be a minor one. “You went somewhere unchaperoned, I suppose. Or you let someone steal a kiss from you in public.”

She shook her head with a wry smile. “Clearly you have no idea of how badly behaved we young ladies can be.”

“I would love for you to enlighten me.”

At Livia’s indecisive silence, Shaw abandoned the subject, and fastened his gaze on the tousled, heavily planted cottage garden ahead of them. Long banners of honeysuckle trailed over the garden fence, its fragrance making the air thick and sweet. Butterflies danced amid bright splotches of poppies and peonies. Beyond a plot of carrots, lettuce, and radishes, a rose-covered arch-way led to a tiny glasshouse that was shaded by a parasol-shaped sycamore.

“Very nice,” Shaw remarked.

Swinging her bonnet, Livia led him to the glasshouse, a cozy nook that no more than two people could occupy at the same time. “When I was a little girl, I used to sit in this glasshouse with my books and dolls, and pretend that I was a princess in a tower.”

“You grew up at Stony Cross Park, then,” he said.

Livia opened the glasshouse door and looked inside. It was clean and well-kept, the wooden seat gleaming from a recent polishing. “Lord Westcliff is my brother,” she finally admitted, her voice sounding hollow as it resounded inside the little glass-paned room. “I am Lady Olivia Marsden.”

Shaw stood behind her, close but not touching. Her awareness of him was so electric that it compelled her to step forward into the glasshouse. Shaw remained in the doorway, filling it with his lean body and broad shoulders. When Livia turned to face him, she was struck by the differences between him and Amberley. Shaw was at least ten years older than Amberley had been. A powerful, worldly man, and so clearly a disenchanted one, with tiny lines of cynicism etched around his eyes. But when he smiled, it temporarily banished every sign of disillusionment, and made him so attractive that her heart nearly stopped.

“Lady Aline mentioned that she had a sister,” Shaw said. “However, I had the impression that you lived away from the estate.”

“No, I am definitely a resident of Stony Cross Park. But I keep to myself. The scandal, you understand.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a relaxed smile. “Tell me, Princess Olivia… why do you have to stay in your tower?”

The soft entreaty made Livia feel as if she were melting inside. She laughed unsteadily, wishing for a moment that she dared to trust him. But the habit of independence was too strong. Shaking her head, Livia approached him, expecting him to back away from the doorway. He retreated a half step, his hands still grasping the edges of the doorway, so that she couldn’t help but walk into an open-armed embrace. The bonnet ribbons slipped from her fingers.

“Mr. Shaw—” she began, making the mistake of looking up at him.

“Gideon,” he whispered. “I want to know your secrets, Olivia.”

A bitter half smile touched her lips. “You’ll hear them sooner or later from other people.”

“I want to hear them from you.”

As Livia began to retreat into the glasshouse, Shaw deftly caught the little cloth belt of her walking dress. His long fingers hooked beneath the reinforced fabric.

Unable to back away from him, Livia clamped her hand over his, while a hectic blush flooded her face. She knew that he was toying with her, and that she once might have been able to manage this situation with relative ease. But not now.

When she spoke, her voice was husky. “I can’t do this, Mr. Shaw.”

To her amazement, he seemed to understand exactly what she meant. “You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly. “Just let me come closer… and stay right there…” His head bent, and he found her mouth easily.

The coaxing pressure of his lips made Livia sway dizzily, and he caught her firmly against him. She was being kissed by Gideon Shaw, the self-indulgent, debauched scoundrel her brother had warned her about. And oh, he was good at it. She had thought nothing would ever be as pleasurable as Amberley’s kisses… but this man’s mouth was warm and patient, and there was something wickedly erotic about his complete lack of urgency. He teased her gently, nudging her lips apart, the tip of his tongue barely brushing hers before it withdrew.

Wanting more of those silken strokes, Livia began to strain against him, her breath quickening. He nurtured her excitement with such subtle skill that she was utterly helpless to defend against it. To her astonishment, she found herself winding her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts against the hard plane of his chest. His hand slid behind her neck, tilting her head back to expose her throat more fully. Still gentle and controlled, he kissed the fragile skin, working his way down to the hollow at the base of her throat. She felt his tongue swirl in the warm depression, and a moan of pleasure escaped her.

Shaw lifted his head to nuzzle the side of her cheek, while his hand smoothed over her back. Their breaths mingled in swift puffs of heat, his hard chest moving against hers in an erratic rhythm. “My God,” he finally said against her cheek, “you are trouble.”

Livia smiled. “No,
you
are,” she managed to accuse in return, just before he kissed her again.

The bag for the morning was respectable, consisting of at least twenty grouse and a half-dozen woodcocks. The women joined the sportsmen for a hearty breakfast by the lake, and they all chattered and laughed lazily while the servants kept their plates and glasses filled. Afterward the guests separated into groups, some of them going for carriage drives or walks through the grounds, others retreating to the manor house to write letters or play cards.

When Aline saw the considerable amount of uneaten food that had been brought back to the kitchen, she and two housemaids packed it into jars and baskets, to be distributed to villagers in Stony Cross. As lady of the manor in her mother’s absence, Aline was mindful to call on the families who had need of extra food and household supplies. It was an obligation that she did not always enjoy, for these visits took up a full day or more of the week. She would enter cottage after cottage, sit by a multitude of hearths, listen diligently to complaints, and dispense advice when necessary. Aline feared that she was insufficiently equipped with both the wisdom and the stoicism that such calls required. On the other hand, the knowledge of how little the cottagers possessed, and how hard they toiled, never failed to humble her.

In the past few months Aline had often managed to persuade Livia to accompany her to the village, and her sister’s presence always made the day go by much faster. Unfortunately Livia was nowhere to be found this afternoon. Perturbed, Aline wondered if her sister was still in the company of Mr. Shaw, as he was also absent. Surely not — Livia hadn’t spent this much time with a man in years. On the other hand, it was just possible that Shaw had been able to draw Livia out of her shell.

But was that a good thing or a bad thing? Aline fretted silently. It would be just like Livia, the contrary imp, to focus her attention on a licentious rake rather than on some upright gentleman. Smiling ruefully, Aline hoisted a heavy basket in her arms and made her way out to the carriage. The dishes clinked in the basket, while the salty tang of ham and the rich fragrance of an egg casserole rose to her nostrils.

“Oh, milady,” came a maid’s voice from behind her, as they walked from the kitchens. “Let me take that from ye, please!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Aline smiled as she saw that the young maid was already burdened with two heavy baskets. “I can manage, Gwen,” she replied, huffing slightly as she ascended a short flight of steps. An obstinate pull from a contracture scar made her right knee stiffen. Gritting her teeth, Aline forced her leg to stretch its full range of motion.

“Milady,” Gwen persisted, “if ye’ll just set it to the side, I’ll come back for it—”

“No need for that. I want to load these into the carriage and be off, as I am already pressed for t—”

Aline broke off suddenly as she saw McKenna standing near the entrance to the servants’ hall. He was talking with a giggling housemaid, casually leaning one shoulder against the wall. It seemed that his ability to charm women had not faded… he was smiling at the red-haired maid, reaching out to give a light, teasing tap beneath her chin.

Although Aline made no sound, something must have alerted McKenna to her presence. He glanced in her direction, his gaze turning wary.