Page 30 of The Butterfly
Something warm and light came over them—his blanket, his scent clinging strongly to its fibers. She knew she ought to rise and dress, perhaps return inside. But, none of that felt as important as lying with Niall in the aftermath of what they’d just done. It felt more poignant a marking of her coming out than some insipid party, perhaps even the most significant moment of her life.
So, she clung to him, allowing herself to drift drowsily in some space between sleep and wakefulness. He must have thought her unconscious, or perhaps was barely coherent himself—otherwise, he might never have uttered the words that fell from his lips aloud.
“Livvie …mo cridhe … mo gradh …How will I ever let ye go, now?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the tears welling in them not to fall. The Gaelic words were some she’d read before, and she understood them well.
My heart … my love.
Niall loved her. It was the one thing she’d always wanted to hear, and the last thing she should ever have heard him say. She took no comfort in knowing he returned the love she’d held for him for so long. Not when she knew that they’d only ever hurt each other in the end.
CHAPTER SEVEN
iall came awake to find that Olivia had already stirred. Staring up at him from a tangle of sheets and strands of disheveled hair, she attempted a weak smile. The light of the late morning sun streamed through parted drapes, casting prisms of amber through her dark irises. She had more color to her cheeks than the day before, and the glassy sheen to her eyes had disappeared, giving him a glimpse of the girl he used to know.
Had it been so simple? Could weaning her off the laudanum have been enough to give him his Livvie back?
“Good morning,” she said, her voice a bit raspy—likely from a dry throat. She’d had a difficult time drinking more than a few sips of water or broth at a time.
“Good mornin’,mo gradh,” he replied before kissing her forehead. “How d’ye feel?”
She stretched and yawned, then nestled even closer to him beneath the bedclothes. As always, her nearness made a mess of his senses, his every nerve ending coming alive, hungering for her touch. He could never decide if it were a pleasure or a torment.
“Better, I suppose. Certainly more rested than before. But, I feel as if I haven’t eaten in weeks, and I must smell awful.”
Grinning, he dipped his head and nestled his face in the crook of her neck, taking a deep inhale. She only smelled like Livvie to him—like hyacinth and jasmine, and some other scent that seemed to belong only to her. If the light hint of sweat from all her tossing and turning lingered over it … well, she still smelled sweet to him.
Still, he could not resist teasing her when this was the first time she’d been so lucid for this long.
“Och … ye smell like a stable! And I should know, havin’ spent far too much time standin’ near the wrong end of a horse.”
She scoffed, tweaking the tip of his nose. “Brute.”
“Now, now,” he teased. “This brute would bring ye breakfast if ye treat him a bit nicer. I s’pose ye could stand toast and chocolate warmin’ yer belly right about now.”
As if it had heard him, her belly rumbled and groaned, prompting a laugh from him and a giggle from her.
“Yes, and perhaps some eggs, as well. I’m positively starving.”
After kissing her shoulder, he went about untangling himself from her, though she did not make it easy. With a little whimper of annoyance, she clung to him, tightening her arms around his neck.
“Don’t go yet,” she urged. “I know you’ve been with me all these days, but I have hardly gotten to enjoy it.”
As much as he would have loved to remain abed with her for the rest of his life, he was anxious for her to eat and perhaps attempt to leave her bed. Seeing her regain her strength now took precedence over all else. However, he let himself go still and relax in her hold, content to give her a few more moments.
They lay in silence for a while before she spoke again, craning her neck to look at him.
“I am worried about my brother.”
He frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hart can take care of himself. Ye know that.”
“I know, but … this business with Lady Daphne has him at war with himself, I think.”
Niall started, his pulse kicking up a notch. He did not like the idea of Olivia being involved in this revenge vendetta Adam had embarked upon in any way. Bad enough Niall had played a role. The entire thing had been about avenging and protecting Olivia, which was why he could not understand Adam bringing the Fairchild chit to live under the same roof as his sister.
“What d’ye know about that?”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I vow, the lot of you think I’ve gone daft as well as mad. Just because a woman has fits every now and then does not mean she’s suddenly an imbecile!”
