Stephanie James (11 page)

Suddenly Olivia realized she had grown quite hot as a result of her exertions. The weather was altogether too warm for a wool habit, so Olivia stripped off her heavy green jacket and threw it over a fallen log near the water. Instantly, she felt relief. The shirt she was wearing beneath the jacket was high-collared with long sleeves, but it was made of very thin fabric. The wind blew straight through the gauzy material.

Olivia scooped up a handful of water and drank daintily from her palm. She collected another handful and drank again when the first proved to be insufficient. When she had her fill of water, Olivia lifted her wet hand to her brow and wiped away the sweat that had accumulated there. She collected another palm-full of water and flipped her long hair forward over her head. She poured the water over the back of her neck. Despite the coolness of the liquid on her skin and the breeze blowing through her shirt, Olivia still felt oppressively hot. She looked down at the water and thought seriously about submerging herself.

Suddenly, Olivia remembered the painting of the goddess Diana she had seen in London. The woman had been bathing naked by a river in the woods very much like this one. Olivia certainly did not want to disrobe completely, even in the middle of the woods, but she could hardly resist dipping in at least some part of her body.

A foot, she thought. One of her feet in the water wouldn’t hurt anything.

She sat back on the grass and pulled off her left riding boot, followed by her stocking. The breeze that brushed through her hot toes was heavenly. She lowered her foot to the ground and clenched her toes around the grass. It was, Olivia realized, the first time she had ever set a bare foot on the natural ground. The thought and feeling was so invigorating that she promptly pulled off her other boot and stocking. She stood and began clenching and unclenching her toes around the soft grass. What, she wondered, would the esteemed and noble Lord Philip Ravenshaw, second son of the ninth Duke of Willingham, think of a lady standing barefoot on a riverbank? Without question he would launch into another one of his stuffy lectures about propriety.

The thought of his outrage gave Olivia the courage she needed to raise her skirts just above her ankles and wade into the water. The cool relief that swathed her feet was more sublime than the breeze through her shirt or her toes. She had never before swum out-of-doors. Though she wasn’t exactly swimming, standing barefoot in the river was still overwhelmingly liberating. It was so liberating in fact that she raised her skirts higher and waded deeper into the river. God, what she would give to abandon all and submerge herself completely. Nothing was holding her from doing so but herself, she realized.

But could she bring herself to do it? Was she brave enough? She certainly was not brave enough to swim in the nude like the woman in the painting. And she certainly could not swim in her heavy wool skirt and petticoats. She would sink right to the bottom of the river if the wool became wet. But her knee-length chemise should prove to be quite a sufficient bathing costume, she decided.

Olivia waded back to the patch of grass where her discarded boots and stockings lay, and removed her wool skirt and petticoat. She stood before the water in only her chemise. Her heart was beating thunderously in her chest. She had never done anything quite this unbridled before in her life. It was not likely for someone to happen across her, she knew. No one came to this part of the river; it was hers alone to enjoy. And Lord Philip and Mr. Stanley would never find her; neither of them knew the landscape well enough to discover the trail. Once again, she was holding herself back.

And for what: rules of etiquette that Lord Philip undoubtedly knew backwards and front?

Well, damn that man and those silly rules! What had individuals like Lord Philip and those rules ever brought her apart from pain? Olivia would do just as she pleased, without regard for propriety.

She waded into the water until she was waist deep. And then, after a fleeting moment of hesitation, Olivia Winter stretched out her hands above her head and launched the whole of her body forward into the water.

She was free, and no one could tell her any differently.

• • •

Philip was beginning to panic … more so than before when he had imagined Olivia bleeding out from the head. She and her fast gray horse were not anywhere to be found.

“Any sign of her?” he asked Mr. Stanley when they met back at the bridge.

“None, my lord,” said Mr. Stanley. “Perhaps she has gone back to the Manor.”

“Perhaps,” Philip agreed. “You ride back and see if she is there. I will continue to look.”

But he did not find any sign of her after Mr. Stanley’s departure for Whistler Manor. He kept Stephen’s pace as a canter as he retraced his tracks, searching frantically for any sign of the girl he might have missed. Oh, damn that little chit! Her father should have taken a leather strap to her backside long ago for her deplorable behavior. Why was she so determined to be rebellious? Philip understood her difficulties and limitations with being female, but did she really have to be quite so negative about it? She should embrace her lot in life and make the best of it.

There was, after all, no changing the fact that she was indeed a woman. If she did not shape up and change her ways, she was going to positively miserable for the whole of her life.

Frustration was beginning to get the better of Philip. He could plainly see his and Mr. Stanley’s trail in the grass, but where was Olivia’s? All sign of her had somehow disappeared after that damned bridge.

Philip’s head snapped up.

The bridge — of course!

He kicked Stephen into a gallop and barreled through the field back to the bridge. When he got there, he saw only two sets of tracks on the north side of the bridge — his own and Mr. Stanley’s. He crossed over the stone structure and saw only two sets of tracks immediately before the bridge as well. By all appearances, only two people had crossed the bridge. So where had Olivia gone? Philip dismounted Stephen and walked around to inspect the ground more closely.

He distinctly recalled losing sight of Olivia after she crossed over the hill before the bridge. His first instinct was to assume she had crossed the bridge. But now that he was beginning to calm down, he realized that Olivia would never do something quite so traditional as cross a bridge like an ordinary person. The riverbank was quite large, Philip noticed when he came to the edge of the land that sloped down to the water. Large enough for a horse to walk upon, he realized. But he didn’t see any tracks. He quickly checked the other side of the bridge.

Without any great amount of surprise, but rather a large sense of victory, Philip found horse tracks leading under the bridge and then a second set leading out from under it. He followed the second set with his eyes down a good bit of the riverbank and then up the slope of land and then off into the distance. No wonder he hadn’t noticed the trail before. It was a good ways away from his own and therefore very well concealed.

Philip smiled. Olivia was apparently very clever, but not quite clever enough. Philip was only embarrassed he had taken so long to realize what Olivia had done.

He sprinted back to Stephen, flung himself into the saddle, and followed the trail. When he realized that it was veering off into the exact direction of Whistler Manor, Philip slowed his horse’s pace and began cantering pleasantly back to the house. Mr. Stanley would be there to find her; there was no need for him to rush back. If anything Philip needed to take his time getting back. He was quite tired from the worry he’d put himself through — as well as the physical exertion; his horse was tired from running, and to top it off, he was blazing hot from the midday heat. If he met Olivia in such a state, he was likely to say or do something he regretted, like strangling the life out of her while he called her a selfish little brat for putting him through such an ordeal.

Philip knew he would never strike Olivia in reality. He called himself a gentleman after all, and no gentleman worth the word would dare strike a lady. But God what he wouldn’t give to be able to reprimand her in some way. Were she his wife, he would … he would … well, he didn’t know what he would do, exactly, but he would invent some sort of punishment.

Olivia as his wife.

The thought made Philip groan. She was beautiful, that much was true. The shape of her body was more than desirable. Hadn’t he fantasized about possessing it more than once? He certainly had loved the feel of it against his own body when he had restrained her in the parlor. Indeed, if Olivia Winter were his wife, Philip doubted that he would have difficulty enjoying his marital rights to her body.

It was her voice that was the problem. He would have to listen to it for the rest of his life if they were married. And she would doubtless scold him more often than not. Philip certainly could not imagine Olivia speaking to him lovingly. In fact, he really couldn’t imagine her behaving lovingly towards him at all. If she had a loving side to her personality, Philip was completely unaware of it. She could be vulnerable if she was hurt, that was true. Seeing her in such a state did inspire Philip to feel compassion for her. But was that only because in all their time as acquaintances,
he
had been the cause of Olivia’s pain and thus vulnerability?

Philip looked down at Olivia’s trail only to find that it was no longer there. He turned Stephen around and rode back to find it. Had she made a sudden turn? Indeed she had, Philip came to realize when he saw the tracks turn onto a very narrow trail in the woods. He turned onto the trail and traveled its length to a clearing that had a beautiful piece of river running through it. Emily was nibbling on a patch of grass to his left, her saddle still attached to her back. But where was Olivia? Philip dismounted his horse and walked to the river. He found a pile of discarded clothing and boots. Olivia’s. But Olivia was still nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t gone swimming in the nude. It was unseemly! Olivia’s constant disregard for propriety, however, was the least of his concerns at the moment.

Where was she? Had she drowned? Oh God, no! Philip bent down and immediately began removing his boots. He had to get in fast and save her. This was far worse than if she had struck her head. A doctor would have perhaps been able to help repair her, but from drowning, there was no returning to the living world if too much time had passed. He pulled off his cravat, and then, as he was pulling off his coat, Olivia’s head popped out of the water.

Philip’s emotions instantly switched from concerned to angry when he saw that Olivia was smiling. What the blazes was she doing with a smile on her face?

“What the devil do you think you are doing?” Philip bellowed.

Olivia shrieked and sank into the water to hide. “Go away! I’m not dressed.”

“That is precisely my point,” Philip said as he plunged into the water, his coat in his hands. “This is disgraceful.”

“Get away from me,” Olivia yelled as she tried to swim away.

“I thought you were dead, do you realize that?” Philip said, charging towards her.

“I would think my death would be somewhat of a blessing to you,” Olivia snapped, trying desperately to get away from him, but Philip refused to let her get away yet again.

“It would have been my fault,” Philip yelled. He reached out and grabbed Olivia’s arm. “Do you know how worried I’ve been that you’d found your end because of your silly behavior? I’m through with you causing trouble for me today.”

She screamed as he began pulling her out of the water and tried to beat him away with her free hand. “I said get away from me!”

Philip ignored her and threw his coat over her shoulders. “Are you quite aware of how indecent your current behavior is?” Philip asked and began pulling Olivia back to shore.

She clung to his long coat, held it tightly around her shoulders. “Are you quite aware of how indecent you are behaving now?” she asked. “Leave me to dress on my own!”

“So you might run away again? I will do no such thing,” Philip said, the water up to his calves now. “I will give you my back while you dress, but I refuse to leave you alone, not after how you’ve just behaved. And before it occurs to you to escape from me again, know that I shall catch you. I’m quite a fast runner.”

• • •

The thought of dressing near Lord Philip — of being dressed as she was now in a soaking wet chemise — frightened Olivia beyond words. She began slapping at his hand on her arm as she tried to pull herself free, but it only made him pull on her harder. “Stop it, woman!” Philip yelled and turned to grasp her free arm with his. “You are improper on so many other occasions. This time won’t hur — ”

Philip slipped on a slimy patch of the riverbed and fell … taking Olivia with him. He landed on his back, with his lower half in the water, his top half on the sand, and Olivia lying atop both halves. The breath was knocked from both their lungs and they coughed for air. In what appeared to be an unthinking reaction, Philip wrapped his arms around Olivia’s body and bent his knees so that she was lying between them. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Olivia raised her head from Lord Philip’s chest. “Yes, I believe so,” she answered. Then her breath caught when she looked down into his eyes. She had never before been this close to a man. And she certainly had never ever lain atop one in so scandalous a manner. This was wrong; she had to get away. But after noticing his arms, shoulders and thighs that very morning, touching him now in so intimate a way, and having his arms wrapped around her body was overwhelmingly paralyzing.

Before Olivia could devise a way to exit Lord Philip’s embrace, one of his hands closed over the back of her head, and pulled her mouth down to his.

Olivia yelped at the first touch of Lord Philip’s lips. She knew this was wrong. It seemed wrong. Or did it only seem wrong because she had been instructed to believe such behavior was wrong? Part of her felt that this was right. Her mind had become a conflicted place where logic battled passion, even as Lord Philip’s kiss deepened.