Olivia’s eyes widened, the mask of anger cracking to reveal a softer expression akin to the surprise of receiving an unexpected gift. “So, we are wandering for the same reason.”
“Are you still scared?” His fingertips traced a line along the flat of her shoulder, edging closer to the curve of her neck.
She swallowed, her throat bobbing. “I am scared that… everything you say to me has been said a thousand times to a thousand different women. I am scared that every moment with you is a performance.” She paused. “Perhaps, you even paid that boar handsomely to rush me when it did, so you would have an opportunity to be my hero.”
He would have laughed at that if her prior fears were not jabbing him in the heart, punishing him for the false stories he had sent to the scandal sheets about himself. Society believed what they read and heard, regardless of how many grains of truth were in the words. How could he possibly hope to convince Olivia that he had orchestrated it all? Even to him, it sounded ludicrous, like a hastily concocted excuse.
“I am not what you think I am,” he said after a moment.
“You are not one of the most infamous rakes in all of England, who cannot be trusted?” She snorted, but it sounded sadder than she had, perhaps, intended.
He let his hand cradle the silky curve of her neck. “I swear to you, I am neither of those things.”
“Then, the entire country must be misinformed.” She did not believe him. The crease of her brow suggested she wanted to but could not. And he could not blame her.
“They are,” he insisted, “and deliberately so.”
Her eyes met his. “Pardon?”
“Bear with me, for this will sound like a badly constructed lie, but it is the truth,” Evan began, no longer willing to wave a white flag. “Ifabricated those rumors.Isent the stories to the scandal sheets, and had my cousin Daniel feed them to society by way of hearsay.”
She blinked. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Hate can make a man do peculiar things, and… I detest my father so much, and for so many years, that I wanted to be an embarrassment to him. I wanted to be the son he could not stand to hear about, who would not obey any longer, as punishment for what he did to me.” His voice hitched, and his lungs squeezed off all their air. “I know you know of my past; I heard you speaking with Caro and Daniel on the terrace. Selfishly, I am glad that I do not have to repeat it all to you, standing in front of you, for you might see a side of me that no one has seen in years. I shall let the fountain do the weeping for me, instead.”
“And that is why you deflected the prospect of marriage?” Olivia asked, her expression unreadable. “You wished to rebel against expectation, or… was it something more? I suppose there is one obvious way to truly anger and disappoint the patriarch of a household, by ending his bloodline.”
Evan drew in a stilted breath. “It was primarily for rebellion and to embarrass him. At every gathering he would attend, I had no doubt that he heard about my supposed exploits and returned home in a fury. I have been told as much by witnesses, though, regretfully, I have never seen it. Still, the notion has satisfied me well enough.”
That was not the whole truth, but he could not admit to Olivia that she had guessed right. When his aunt Amelia had first started to suggest marriage, long before this match had been made, the thought of ending his father’s bloodline had spurred Evan to mar his reputation completely. Marriage and heirs were exactly what his father wanted from him, and Evan had assumed that the satisfaction of disappointing his father would always outweigh any desire to find love.
Until you…
“That is… quite the tale,” Olivia said quietly.
Evan steeled himself. “Is it a tale you can believe, for it really is the truth?”
“If I did not understand the power of hatred, I would not believe you, but you are fortunate that I do.” She smiled. “Joining the Spinster’s Club was my revenge. I doubt using your scheme would have worked so well for me.”
A weight lifted from Evan’s chest as if he had been trapped beneath a horse’s hoof. “Would they disown you if you married me?”
“Let me ask a question first.” Olivia dropped her gaze, digging the toe of her shoe into the gravel.“Do you still feel the way you did? Do you still want nothing more than to punish your father?”
He could not hope to form words while her gaze was fixed upon the ground, the soft, hesitant nature of her voice making him wonder if her feelings had changed, too. Lightly stroking his fingertips up the side of her neck, he brought them underneath her downturned chin, tilting her head back up. He had only meant for her to look at him once more, but the moment he saw her peering into his eyes, her lips parted as they had been in the forest, he knew that words would not be enough to explain what he felt.
In a blur, his lips were upon hers, his arm encircling her waist, pulling her closer to him. Reminding himself not to rush or he might spook her once again, he slowed the graze of his mouth, his fingertips caressing the curve of her back in perfect rhythm with the ebb and flow of his kiss. He hoped it might comfort her, calming any panic that might be rising within her.
At first, she did not kiss him back, her slightly parted lips frozen in that suggestion of wanting to say something. But she did not push him away or slap or shove him hard in the stomach.
Indeed, the first hint that she was not averse to his affection came in the slightest twitch of her fingertips as she brought her hand to his upper arm. The faintest touch, so hesitant and endearing that he smiled against her lips as he caught her mouth with his once more. A moment later, her hand gripped the muscle of his arm while her other hand moved up to rest against his chest, her thumb settling just below his throat, her fingers splayed across the place where his heart raced.
Like the unfurling of a spring flower, she bloomed in his embrace, sinking into the warm sunshine of his obvious affection. And just when he feared it might not come, the rose-petal softness of her lips fluttered against his.
Her feelings have changed,his heart sang, though he would not be the one to put words in the mouth that was slowly coming to life, urged on by the slow press of his own.
Skimming his touch along her jaw, he slipped his fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and guiding her through the kiss. And as he held her tighter, letting her know she was safe in his arms and that those arms were only for her, she grew in confidence. Clearly a quick learner, she crushed her lips against his with a passion that nearly knocked him over, her hand hooking over his shoulder to keep her balanced as she raised herself on tiptoe to his height.
It was more than he could have imagined and everything he might have dreamed of if he had been able to sleep. For once, he was grateful for his restlessness, whispering silent prayers of thanks to whatever force of fate had brought them both to this particular spot in the gardens that night. The motion of his prayers echoed against her lips, one moment slow and reverent, the next eager and unbridled, leaving them both breathless.
