Guarding the Spoils (The Wild Randalls - Book 3) (20 page)

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 fine 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.”

She held in a laugh at his outraged expression. “Then you should have knocked on the front door rather than climbing the trees, you ape,” Beth said quietly, keeping an eye on her brother-in-law to check that he wasn’t listening.

She didn’t think it right to tell tales, even to her own family, about the Randall’s past problems. Once Tobias had been unmasked as the troublemaker, the family had grown closer than ever before. And when Oliver was returned, weak but unharmed, everything had almost appeared normal between them.

Tobias clutched his chest dramatically. “Wounded, and by such a tender blow.”

George relaxed his grip on her hand and stood straighter. “Do you still climb the abbey, sir? I’ve not seen you do it and they say you’re a wonder to behold.”

Tobias ruffled his hair. “Sorry, lad, you won’t. My feet are firmly planted on the ground now. There’s no one left to rescue.” Tobias cast a sly glance at Oliver, who’d remained silent on the subject of his adventurous younger brother’s antics.

“There is Rose still to locate,” Oliver said abruptly, a frown forming over his face.

Tobias sighed morosely. “I wish Rose was here. Leopold is going to have no hair left soon. There’ll be just one tuft left at the top that he musses every time another letter arrives with no news of her.”

Beth rubbed her hands up and down her arms as a sudden chill swept her skin. “I miss her, too. But she’s still alive. I am sure of that.”

“But why doesn’t she come?” Tobias grumbled. “Leopold has had an advertisement running in every paper with no success. She’s vanished without a trace.”

“Give her time, Tobias,” Beth murmured gently, concerned by the rising of his voice. “Who knows how far she ran ten years ago? The one thing you should remember is she could look after herself better than any girl I knew. Trust that she’s safe.”

Oliver met her gaze directly. “She might not believe the messages are true.”

Tobias groaned loudly. “You mean she may not even believe we posted them?”

“It’s a possibility I’ve been considering this past week to account for her silence.” Oliver shook his head suddenly. “If I come up with an alternative wording next week I’ll write immediately.”

Tobias fell silent and Beth risked a glance at Oliver. His expression hinted he was far away in his thoughts and she quickly looked elsewhere before she was caught staring.

“Wait,” Tobias said suddenly, waving his arms to draw Oliver’s attention. “What do you mean you will write next week? Next week you’ll still be here.”

Beth steeled herself for pain as Oliver let out a long sigh that could only bode ill news for his brothers. “I received a response today to my enquiry about a passage to cross the channel,” he said. “My ship sails on December second.”

Beth sighed. “A bare day before we sail.”

Tobias glared. “You’re leaving so soon, too?”

Oliver’s attention shifted to her and his stare grew uncomfortable. There was something unusual in his expression that she hadn’t seen before. Disappointment? Sorrow, perhaps. She nodded quickly to dispel the illusion. “I was informed of the date of our departure just before you joined us.”

George clutched her hand again and laid his cheek against her arm. She hugged him quickly. “Looks like we are all bound for adventure within the week. I am so sorry that I will miss your wedding, though, Tobias. I’ll wait and hope for a letter to follow me so I may hear all about it.”

Tobias looked between them. “You’re both mad to think you’ll be happier elsewhere. You’ve spent too much time in the sun.” He threw up his hands and stalked away, heading for the abbey and, Beth guessed, for the likely comfort of his future wife.

She followed Tobias’s progress until he slammed through the terrace doors. When she faced Oliver again, he was watching her intently. He drew closer. “You do not sound excited about America.”

She smiled quickly. “We haven’t had a lot of time to prepare.”

Oliver slued around to study her brother-in-law, his lips pursed. Eventually he huffed, a sound she’d heard from him quite often of late. “And he’s hardly been forthcoming. If you have doubts, you should remain here. There’s plenty of time for George to join his uncle and learn his business, whatever that may be, when he’s grown older.”

She didn’t like that Oliver’s thoughts ran with her own. But what she did with her life wasn’t something he should concern himself over. He hadn’t wanted a say in her life years ago. He’d allowed her to marry someone else. She wouldn’t give up her independence now; no matter how well he made love or how many times he could entice her to share his bed. “There’s no reason
not
to go now. Do not give our happiness another thought, sir. You must be quite anxious to be on your way, too. After all, it’s everything you’ve dreamed and spoken of your entire life.”

His eyes lowered. “I suppose it was. If you’ll excuse me, I have my own packing to do and a brother to reconcile with the news. Until later.”

He strode toward the house and Beth wrenched her eyes away before they filled with tears. Their time together was almost over and she must prepare for that, too. She would not blubber like a lovesick ninny as his carriage carried him down the drive. She would be strong and wish him well on his adventure. She would wish him every happiness.

She hugged George to her side and then smoothed his hair from his eyes. “We have much to do and a haircut appears to be the first order of business.”

“I don’t want a haircut,” George said petulantly, scrubbing at his head as if her affection was annoying now. “I want to stay with Mr. Randall.”

“He’s leaving, too,” she reminded him gently.

“Then I want to go with him.”

Pain sliced through her. What she’d feared most had come to pass. George was far too fond of Oliver. His heart was going to be as broken as hers when Oliver left them behind. She bent down to her son’s level and met his gaze squarely. “As I told you before, that is not possible.”

He shook off her touch and lifted his chin defiantly. “It would be if you didn’t speak so meanly to him all the time.”

Beth’s brows rose. “I do no such thing.”

George scowled at her. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be nicer to Mr. Randall. I want to go with him and see the coliseum, to see the things he talks about in Italy and Turkey. You spoil everything. I didn’t want to believe him, but Uncle Henry was right. Women say one thing and mean another.” His words came out in a disgusted tone and he stomped away, headed for the house too.

Beth glanced swiftly at her brother-in-law to see if he had noticed the mode of George’s departure and saw a smile flit across his face. Was that his game? To turn her son against her by undermining their relationship? Rage filled her. She had gone without for many a night, stomach rumbling in hunger to ensure that her son’s belly was full so he wouldn’t cry himself to sleep. She’d buried a husband and two children, barely old enough to be out of her arms, and would not give up her son without a fight just because a man had waltzed in with money and power and thought he had the right to take what he wanted.