Page 34 of The Butterfly
That would make him smile, and he would almost always kiss her—on the forehead, her cheek, her lips.
“What if he says no, and I’m forced to run off with ye? We’d be in Gretna Green by sunrise.”
She would giggle and do something affectionate, like nuzzle his nose with hers, or smooth her fingertips over the curve of one of his eyebrows.
“What if we wed over the blacksmith’s anvil, then ran away together … some place far, far away, where my stepfather would never find us? What if we started anew, just the two of us … Mr. and Lady Gibbs.”
The ‘Lady Gibbs’ bit would always cause a tight fist of grief to well up in his throat, because they both knew she could never be that. But he would choke that lump down and try not to think on it overmuch. This was a game, after all, a silly little bit of fantasy … and in this fantasy, he could have everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever been denied.
Laying his hand upon her belly, he would smile. “What if we had a bairn? A wee little bairn with yer eyes and hair and … well, yer everything because ye’re so bonny, God would be a fool to have them come out lookin’ like me. And with my luck, a lad with my face would be born with the scars to boot. ”
She would lay her hand over his and laugh, and say something about how handsome he was, soof coursethey should have sons who looked just like him, reminding him that his scars meant nothing to her.
Tonight, however, had been different. Tonight, instead of laughing over their little game, Olivia had wept in his arms.
“I do not want to leave, Niall,” she whispered against his shoulder, her tears wetting his skin. “It is almost time for me to go, and I … I do not want the Season in London, or courtship with strangers and marriage to a man I hardly know. I wantyou.I want our game to be real.”
“Ye know we cannae, Livvie,” he admonished.
“We can, and we should. Gretna Green is less than a day’s ride away. Here in Scotland, I do not need Papa’s permission to marry.”
“Ye dinnae know what ye’re saying,” he protested. “It sounds romantic, but once we’re married, we’d have to run. Ye couldnae be a lady anymore, not unless ye want word gettin’ back to yer da. I have some of my wages tucked away, but it isnae much. I could work to provide for ye, and I would … but it could never be the grand life ye’ve always had. The kind of life ye deserve.”
“A life in which I am coddled and sheltered and spoiled, but never know passion? A life in which one man may own my body by law, while you are in possession of my heart and soul? Is that the sort of life you think I deserve?”
“Livvie—”
“Stop talking to me as if I’m some addle-brained little girl! I know what I want … have known it all this time. I am weary of stolen moments and intimacies that cease before we can make love the way we truly want. I am tired of having to hide the way I feel when there is nothing shameful about it. What does it matter that you are a servant and I am a lady? All we want is to be together.”
Sitting up on his little bed, he took her face in his hands, staring deep into her eyes and trying to will her to cease talking madness. If she kept it up, he would follow her over the edge of sanity. He would allow himself to believe that they could truly marry and run off together and find some way to be happy.
“You might never see Adam again. Do you understand that? The scandal we’d cause would force him to disown us.”
“He would never—”
“And that would make it all the worse, because our deed would hang over his head,” he interjected, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “For all the things he’s done for me, all the love he’s ever shown me, treatin’ me as his brother, I couldnae do that to him.”
“He would want us to be happy!”
“He would want us to be here with him! His maw died, then yer maw, too. Yer da shows him no love, and all he has is me and you. Do ye think he’ll survive losing ye, too?”
Burying her face in her hands, she released a frustrated sound akin to a growl. “I am sick to death of worrying over what others might think or feel. I love my brother, you know that. But what about us? Are we to be miserable because it will placate others? Will you tell me that you can so easily let me go?”
He claimed her mouth in a swift kiss, his fingers moving back into her hair. “Letting you go will kill me,mo gradh. I dinnae know how I’ll survive it.”
“Then don’t,” she whimpered against his lips. “Don’t let me go, Niall. Run away with me. Perhaps we could make contact with Adam somehow, secretly. He could visit us with no one the wiser. There must be a way. Please, Niall.”
He had never been able to deny her anything. From the time she’d been a girl begging to ride upon his shoulders, to when she’d pleaded to be kissed at the age of fourteen, to the night she’d taken her clothes off for him and offered her body, asking him to show her pleasure and passion.
How, then, was he to deny her this?
“All right,” he relented. “All right,mo gradh.Give me a few days, and I … I will think of a plan. We’ll be gone in a sennight. Can ye wait that long?”
She threw her arms around him and wept against his neck, tears and sobs of joy mingling with her laughter. “Oh, Niall. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
She believed it so much that he could not help but believe along with her. They lay there for an hour after that, whispering to one another between kisses, holding each other tight. She fell asleep in his arms, making him think that after a sennight, he might be privileged to hold her while she slept every single night. The wistful fantasy proved so heady, he grew dizzy with it, his head swimming and a grin curving his mouth.
He was not certain how long he had lain there, dozing off while thinking over how he might sneak Olivia off to Gretna Green and where they would go once married. At some point, he must have fallen asleep completely, because when he opened his eyes, it was to find the intimidating figure of the earl standing over them.
