Page 78 of House of Thorns
“I am Lord Nicholas Blair,” he responded at once, bowing in respect. “I am at your service.”
Her father drew his brows into a scowl. “State your intentions with my daughter.”
Olivia blinked, surprised by his bluntness.
“The most honorable, I assure you, Mr. Mackenzie,” came Nicholas’s reply.
It was a lie, of course. There was no wedding in their future, but Olivia’s heart quickened just the same.
She felt her father relax and then, he gazed into her eyes, his clarity again gone. “My how you’ve grown, child.”
“Come, father, it’s time to rest.” She began drawing him toward the curtains.
“Yes, yes, rest,” her father murmured. Then, he glanced at Nicholas. “Good evening, Lord Blair.”
“Good evening,” Nicholas replied, hat in hand.
“Then I’ll be on my way,” Mrs. Lambert said. “If you’ll see me out, Lord Blair?”
“Most certainly, Mrs. Lambert,” he replied, offering a gallant arm. “And a good evening to you, Miss Mackenzie.”
Olivia smiled her farewell. It was a disappointment, truly. She’d envisioned such a different ending to the day, but not with her father in such a state.
“Come, father,” she drew him behind the curtain and toward his room. “Shall I read to you?”
“No, no,” her father yawned. “I’m rather tired, my child.”
“Then, this way, Father dear.”
She guided him to his room and settled him into bed. To her surprise, he fell asleep almost at once.
She poked her head back through the curtain only to see the shop lying still, silent. With Mrs. Lambert gone, it was most unfortunate that Nicholas had left when he had. Heaving a sigh, she ascended the stairs to her room and began to undress.
She might as well work, she still had music to print, but work was a sore substitute when she wanted Nicholas’s mouth on her, suckling her breast and more. For the first time, she understood the pull of attraction, the desire to abandon everything for the love of a man. Love. Did she love Nicholas? She already knew the answer. She’d battled that attraction from the very start.
Shimmying out of her gown and shift, she took her father’s printing clothes from the clothing chest and slipped them on. She was too agitated to sleep. She might as well put the time and energy to use.
Forcing all thoughts of Nicholas from her mind, she left her room and returned to the floor below. The night was a hot one and the work of pulling the Devil’s Tail, forcing sheet after sheet over the type, would make it hotter still.
Already, the print room was stuffy. She lit the candle on the counter and another on the press before heading to the windows to open the shutters. The cool night air would chase away the stuffiness. It was risky, of course. She’d have to keep watch to ensure Mr. Peppers didn’t slip through to wreak havoc with his paws.
A cricket sang in the alleyway as she returned to the press and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her father’s linen shirt. She grinned. She was half tempted to divest herself of clothing altogether. What did it matter? There was no one here to see.
She loosened her belt a notch, letting the breeches slide lower over her hips and then tied the shirt tails above her waist. Cool air kissed her skin. She sighed in relief and reached for the handle.
It was then that she noticed Nicholas, lounging against the doorframe and watching her under heavily lidded eyes.
Olivia gasped. “How did you get in here?”
He grinned and unfolded his arms. “I never left.”
It was impossible not to smile.
“Forgive me for interrupting you,” he murmured as he joined her.
Olivia drew a deep breath. Yes. He was close, as he should be. “Forgive you?” she murmured, peering up at him through her lashes. “Perhaps, I shall consider it.”
“Perhaps?” He grinned and, leaning back, snuffed the candle on the counter with the palm of his hand, and then blew out the one on the press.
