Page 18 of The Butterfly
He’d hated himself for it, even knowing that his feelings went beyond simple lust. Because, not only did he want to kiss and touch Olivia, he still possessed the need to be all the things he’d always been to her—a friend, a confidant, a protector. It had only taken him a few short weeks to realize that it was love. By then, she’d gone back to school, casting him into the doldrums of despair so thick, he’d thought he might choke on it. Loving her was the most foolish thing he could do, yet, he loved her all the same. He’d probably always loved her, even from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. The difference in their ages might not matter were she a common girl, a servant like him. He knew scullery maids who’d been swallowing cocks since the age Olivia had been when they’d first kissed, and others who, even when they remained virginal, were still quite wise in carnal matters. No one shielded them from the truths or realities of the world; no one cared what they saw, or heard, or knew.
Olivia, however, was the epitome of innocence, as close to pure as an angel in Heaven. She’d been coddled and kept from men like him for a reason. It had been that thought that had driven him away from her and back to the stables where he belonged. It was there he remained, avoiding her at all costs. Whenever she came to have a groom saddle her horse, he made certain to take himself elsewhere, leaving the job to someone else. On the rare occasion they crossed paths, he would avoid her gaze, refusing to so much as speak to her.
He would feel her eyes on him and could see the hurt in the dark depths whenever he allowed himself a quick glance. He wanted to tell her it was all for her own good. She was just a girl and had no notion of what it could mean for them if they were caught. He’d be sent away—but only if Conall did not kill him first. And she …well, the earl had never raised a hand to her as far as Niall knew, but he would not take any chances. Lord Rowland Callahan was known for his coldness and cruelty, so he would not put it past the man to send her to some wretched place, like a convent, as a punishment for such behavior.
And so it went for the next three years—Niall avoiding Olivia on her visits home and doing his best not to dwell on the salacious fantasies that had been born of that single kiss. It had proved fruitless as, with each visit, she only grew more beautiful, more womanly, more impossibly perfect. Still as tiny as she’d always been in comparison to him, she grew in other ways—ways that made his cock hard as flint any time she was within his line of sight. Her hips began filling out her gowns, small breasts tempting him at the edge of her bodice, the necklines growing a bit lower and less girlish with each passing year.
By then, he had begun to see anger in her gaze whenever she looked at him, and he’d understood that it was because he’d gone from being her friend to shunning her completely.
It shocked him that she hadn’t confronted him, as it had never been her way to bite her tongue, even when they’d been children. Nevertheless, she allowed it to go on until she returned home for Christmas just before her final term at school. In truth, Niall realized she might never had taken him to task at all if not for the moment she had discovered him in a compromising, and quite frankly, embarrassing, position.
1813
6 years earlier…
Niall tugged on the hand of the woman struggling to keep pace with his long strides, adjusting the bulge in his trousers as he went. The sun had begun to set, and now that his day’s work had ended, he wanted nothing more than dinner, a drink, and a warm woman … and not necessarily in that order. Jane, the chambermaid he’d been fucking for nearly three months now, had come looking for him, having just completed her duties, as well. There was a closet near the servants’ entrance, holding things such as spare tablecloths and napkins which were only brought out when there were guests. Which meant they were never disturbed when they went there to fuck—which was often.
The past few days, he’d pulled her into that closet more than was his custom. It was all because of Olivia, who had come home to spend Christmas with her family looking like some sort of apparition stepping straight out of his dreams. He’d caught sight of her riding astride this afternoon, something her stepfather would have hated had he caught her. Even from the paddock where he’d been working, he had clearly seen the way her gown had risen to her knees, displaying her sinewy calves.
He was pitiful. He’d bedded dozens of maids and whores, but grew hot under the collar at the sight of Olivia’scalves. Nostrils flaring, he pulled open the door of the servants’ entrance, pulling Jane along so fast, she stumbled.
“Goodness, Niall!” she exclaimed. “Slow down!”
He would not. He could not. His cock throbbed with an insistence that could not be ignored, as it had since the day Olivia had returned home. It would probably go on this way until she had left, putting him out of his physical misery and plunging him into a less tangible one—the one where he lay abed and nearly wept for missing her, for feeling so wretched over having pushed her away.
He mumbled an apology as he wrenched the closet door nearly off its hinges. Jane giggled when he all but threw her inside, pulling the panel shut behind him. He felt his way in the dark, grasping her waist and hauling her up against him so her feet dangled off the ground, the plump curves of her body mashing against his solid planes.
She was a plain-faced chit with mousy brown hair and dull grey eyes. But, her body … the woman complained that she was far too plump, but Niall had always sought out sturdy women. God knew he’d grown large enough to snap a slender woman in two, so he thought it best to err on the side of caution and select the ones who looked as if they could withstand him.
Yet another reason Olivia should remain off-limits to him. As tiny as she was, he’d likely kill her.
“God, Niall … you’ve been positively insatiable this week!”
He rolled his eyes at the insipid maid, grateful for the darkness that kept them from seeing one another. This way, she wouldn’t have to see his disappointment over the fact that she was not Olivia. He would not have to look her in the face, and could attempt to pretend that she was.
It would never work. Jane was too stout, too brash in the filthy things she whispered in his ear, tearing at his breeches as he lifted her skirts with one hand while holding her up with the other. If he could just get inside her, he could forget Olivia, even for a few moments. He could fuck this maid and try to enjoy it, reminding himself that this was the sort of woman he could have. Olivia could never be his, not in this way … not in any way.
He’d just managed to free his cock and get Jane’s skirts high enough to find his way between her legs when the maid gasped, pushing against his shoulders as if trying to dislodge him.
“Shite … what the devil?”
Glancing up at Jane, he realized two things at once. He couldseeher, a sliver of light coming from the undoubtedly cracked door and illuminating her face. As well, she looked absolutely horrified as she gazed past him. Already fumbling with his breeches, he muttered another oath under his breath, certain they’d been caught by the housekeeper, which would lead to him being reprimanded at the very least, or cut loose if the earl happened to be in a particularly foul mood.
However, it was not old, wizened Mrs. Hurst he found when he turned to glance over his shoulder. It was Olivia. She clutched a book to her chest and wore a coat, gloves, and hat as if she’d just been about to go outside. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a pained sigh, realizing all at once what had happened. In his haste to get himself off, he hadn’t ensured the door had clicked closed behind them. Olivia, who often used this back entrance to get to her favorite reading spot near the pond, must have happened upon them at just the wrong moment.
Bloody hell.
“Livvie,” he rasped, opening his eyes to find her gone.
Her swift footsteps faded as the door leading outside swung open, then slammed closed. He winced at the sound it made, his heart taking up the rapid drumbeat of panic, his stomach clenching and his hands shaking even as he fisted the open fall of his breeches to keep them up.
“Do you think she’ll tell?” Jane asked, one hand coming against his back.
Her touch repulsed him now, his erection dying away completely, his mind and heart already chasing after Olivia.
“I dinnae know,” he lied. He knew very well Olivia would never do anything to stoke the earl’s ire at him. “But I’d better go make sure she doesnae.”
Without waiting for Jane to respond, he barreled into the corridor, then through the door Olivia had just taken. The setting sun stung his eyes momentarily, but he squinted and soldiered on, trotting after the slight figure of Olivia running across the house grounds. He faintly registered the sting of the bitter cold, but ignored it and pressed on. This was no time to go searching for a coat.
