Beautiful Distraction (11 page)

Her words fell silent on her lips as she stared at him. Once again, she wondered if this were a dream, but this time it wasn’t a nightmare. This man, this glorious, handsome, wonderful man was staring at her, not blinking or hesitating or lying…telling her he
loved
her.

Her, with all her faults and her damaged past.

He reached for her, pulling her close, and she melted against him with no hesitance, no fear, just the love she felt in return. Love she didn’t speak because he kissed her, pouring all his passion and emotion into her.

She drank it in, relaxing against him, allowing her mind to clear, to forget confessions. She clung to him, tightening her arms around him and opening herself to him with her body and her heart.

His kiss grew more passionate as they held each other, the driving of his tongue beginning to become more intense, more insistent.

They didn’t stop kissing as they moved toward her bed, unfastening buttons and hooks slowly, only parting when they were forced to do so in order to remove an article of clothing. Finally she lay back across her pillows, staring up at him in all his naked, beautiful glory. Her heart ached with desire and love, her body shook with need.

She reached for him, drawing him down, opening her legs, and he slid into her gently as he whispered “I love you” once again.

He began to move slowly, so slowly she thought she would go mad as her desire mounted. She lifted her hips to meet him, hoping to force him to speed his thrusts, but he only smiled down at her.

“No rush,” he murmured, circling his hips once again in slow torture.

She huffed out her breath. No rush for him, but her clitoris was tingling, her sex aching, and every glorious time he drove into her, she felt herself inching toward release at a snail’s pace. A very pleasurable one, but still…he just might kill her at this rate.

But just as she was about to mention her frustration or even try to take control of the encounter, he cupped her cheek with one hand. Her eyes met his and locked there, and suddenly nothing else mattered. She was one with this man, lost in him, and she forgot everything else as he held her gaze and continued his gentle, constant drive to her pleasure.

Her orgasm was so sudden it took her off guard and she arched beneath him, gasping for breath, trying to keep her gaze on his, clinging to him as he brought her to completion.

He smiled at her. “See, no rush.”

She laughed even as tears flooded her eyes at the magic of this connection, of her feelings. She drew him down, kissing him as his thrusts grew faster and harder, his control fading now that her release had been found. He groaned into her mouth and his seed moved within her before he collapsed across her body and held her tight.

She kissed his shoulders, his neck, and rolled into the crook of his body as he moved onto his back. She spread her hands out across his chest and looked at her pale skin against his. They were different and yet matched. She could be happy with him, but not unless she swallowed her fears.

“Mal?” she whispered, not daring to look at him.

“Hmm?” he grunted, his voice heavy with sleep.

Now she did look up at him. His eyes were shut, his breathing steady.

“Nothing,” she murmured, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Sleep. You deserve it.”

He muttered something unintelligible and cuddled her closer, but even as she settled into his arms, her unease made her stomach turn. Lying to a stranger or even a bed partner was one thing—lying to a man who loved you…well, that was something else.

So she would have to find a way to remedy that, and soon. And she could only pray whatever words she found would be ones he would understand and accept or else she could lose him forever.

Malcolm frowned as he walked downstairs into the servant area of the house to his small office. He had so many other places he’d rather be. Well, one, at any rate. But he had a few things to tend to and, in truth, he was still sorting out his feelings. Now that he could admit, both to himself and to her, that he had fallen in love with Olivia, he had some decisions to make.

He opened the door and stopped dead, for Liam was already there. His friend pivoted to face him. Liam looked slightly sick as his gaze fell upon Mal’s blackened eye.

“What do you want?” Mal growled, refusing to feel sorry for Liam.

He expected his attitude to bring out the worst in the earl, but, instead, his friend’s shoulders rolled forward in defeat.

“I came here to tell you I’m sorry for my reaction to our conversation yesterday,” Liam said softly.

“Are you now?” Mal asked, almost uncertain with how to proceed.

Liam pursed his lips. “Yes. I am. More than you will ever know. I’m especially sorry I punched you, which was entirely uncalled for.”

“It was.”

Mal kept his arms folded, but his anger was beginning to fade, for he had never received an apology from Liam before.

Liam shifted, as discomforted by this show of emotion as Mal was.

“You are my best friend,” he said softly. “In truth, my only friend. I recognize the value of that, even though I rarely show it and probably less often express it. And I owe you a great deal more than I offered when we last met. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

Mal stared at him, disbelief his first reaction to the words coming from Liam’s mouth. His friend truly meant them too, that was clear from the hangdog expression on his face and the drooping body language he currently possessed.

“I would only
just
call it a punch,” Mal said with a smile meant to lighten the mood. “It hardly hurt.”

Liam listed his eyes and grinned, but there was no mistaking the relief on his face. “I blackened your eye, didn’t I?”

Mal shrugged as he motioned for Liam to sit across from him at the desk. “Ladies always like a man with battle scars.”

“Olivia tended to you, then?” Liam teased as he took a seat.

Mal thought of their night together, of the confession he had made, of the sweetness of making love to her, and he smiled. “Indeed she did.”

“So perhaps you should thank me.”

Mal shrugged. “I’ll keep that in mind, though I certainly hope we don’t go around coming to blows regularly just to impress the women into comforting us.”

Liam shook his head. “Amen to that.”

“How are you, other than suffering from racking guilt that obviously brought you down to my lair this early in the day?” Mal asked as he fidgeted things on his desk.

He had been so wrapped up in Olivia that he had been neglecting his usual duties of watching over Liam. Now he wondered what was truly happening with him and Violet.

“I’m well, especially now that we have resolved our differences,” Liam said. “But I do need to talk to you about something.”

“Yes?”

His friend hesitated before he blurted out, “I-I am going to offer to become Violet’s protector.”

Slowly, Mal lifted his gaze to Liam’s face. It would do no good to reveal his shock at this declaration, so he fought to keep a neutral expression, but inside he was reeling. After the death of Liam’s love, Matilda, Mal had often wondered if his friend would ever care for anyone, including himself, again. To want to keep a woman was an astonishing step for the earl.

“Her protector,” he repeated slowly.

Liam nodded, but beneath the surety, Mal sensed a hesitation. Not one about keeping Violet, but something else. And he understood it. The situation was…complicated.

“Will it be enough?” he asked, meaning the question both for himself and for Liam.

Liam pushed up from the seat and paced across the room. He was tense as he stopped in front of the fire, refusing to look at Malcolm.

“It is all I can give her,” he finally said softly. “I have nothing else—the rest was buried with Matilda.”

Mal flinched out of pity, and for the first time he understood a fraction of Liam’s pain. He couldn’t imagine losing Olivia now that he loved her, let alone witnessing her violent death in an accident. The very thought turned his stomach.

“I know you well enough that I doubt this confession doesn’t have a motive. What do you need me to do?” he asked.

“I haven’t had a mistress in years,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “And even though I trust Violet, I still have things I want to know, to be certain of…”

Mal nodded, understanding what Liam was loath to say. “Would you like a cursory investigation, some basic background?”

Once again, Liam’s face filled with relief that he wouldn’t have to say those words out loud. “Exactly. How soon could you complete something like that, being in Bath?”

“If I send a missive to the solicitor this moment, I could have it reach London before tonight,” Mal said, glancing at the clock on the mantel. “With a day or two for investigation and a return message, I would say it would be no more than three to four days before you’d have the answers you’d like.”

Liam nodded. “Yes, that is perfect. I can wait.”

“Then I’ll compose something and send it immediately.” Malcolm reached into his desk and drew out a few heavy sheets of paper to write the note without delay.

“Excellent,” Liam said, backing toward the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Mal nodded as he began to scribble and Liam left the room to allow him his privacy. He had done this before for his friend—looked into the background of others—even before the accident. It wasn’t a pleasant task, but in this case he rather relished it. Liam might not be willing or able to admit it, but he seemed to care for Violet Milford more than he said.

And if that was true, it could very well free Malcolm up to pursue a very different kind of life than he lived now. One with Olivia.

A life he very much wanted.

He folded the letter and carefully addressed it. As he stared at the paper before him, he shook his head.

“Once this duty is resolved, once I know the truth about Violet, I will ask Olivia to marry me,” he said, wanting to hear the words out loud, even if he only said them to himself.

They rang so true and sweet that he couldn’t help but smile as he said them. It was the perfect plan. And in a few days, there would be nothing standing in his way.

Chapter Ten

Olivia smiled at her maid, Belle, as the girl finished the last touches on her hair. “Thank you, my dear. That will be all.”

If her companion thought it odd to be dismissed, she didn’t show it and only smiled as she slipped from the room. Probably she thought Malcolm would soon be joining her mistress, and it wasn’t a terrible assumption. After all, he had been coming to her room, or drawing her to his, every day and night since her arrival.

And the past four days since he confessed his love for her had only been more intense. She had felt the change in him. He was lighter when he was with her, he talked to her more and more about the family he was distant from and the life he had led since he began assisting Liam. She had done the same, telling him secrets she’d never thought she’d reveal to another soul.

They had gone on walks and played cards and of course made love until she was weak from him. It would have been the perfect time together except for one thing—her cowardice.

She’d had so many opportunities to tell Malcolm about the reasons she’d come here, but she hadn’t. Either he had distracted her or she hadn’t wanted to spoil yet another lovely day together.

Now she stared herself in the reflection and her frown deepened. She had spent a lifetime pretending who and what she was, but with Mal she could be real, she could be herself. And she didn’t want to lie to him, not even for Violet.

“Perhaps that is what makes me hesitate,” she said to her mirror image. “Violet would be in a spot if I just spouted off the truth to Mal. But if she knows I
need
to do so, if she understands that I love this man and lying kills me, then at least I’ll have given her time to prepare and perhaps even tell Liam the truth on her own terms.”

She nodded, for that seemed like the best solution, the one most fair to all parties involved. She stood and smoothed her dress one last time before she headed downstairs. She could hear voices in the dining room and took a moment to catch her breath before she walked inside to face her friend and, if all went well, create a future for herself.

Malcolm sat in the carriage as it rolled back down the long road from Bath to Liam’s estate. He had been reluctant to take the vehicle to town rather than his horse, but Liam had muttered at him about official business and insisted. Now he was glad for his friend’s foresight. There was no way he could safely ride a horse, not with his eyes burning and his entire body shaking.

He stared at the notes clenched in his fist. They were wrinkled because he was crushing them, and he swore before he started smoothing them against his legs.

He didn’t have to read them to know what they said. The summary his investigator had given him in Bath still rang in his ears.

“Miss Violet Milford, a whore,” Stevenson, the investigator, had begun, “had a meeting with Lord Windbury’s sister before she came to Bath. Judging from a sum of money deposited in her accounts and a variety of letters that have come from Miss Milford to a mysterious solicitor since her arrival…I have every reason to believe she is working in league with the Duke and Duchess of Rothcastle, perhaps to spy on Lord Windbury or to influence him in some way.”