A Season of Hope (Danby #2)(9)

“Oh, come, Olivia. I see the way you look at me. You’d have looked at me with the same revulsion and horror and then moved on to your next suitor.”

A gasp escaped her. “How dare you, Marcus?” she hissed. She closed the space between them until they were toe to toe. “Is that how you remember me? A shallow miss, so easily swayed by a beautiful face?”

His silence hit her like a kick to the stomach. How could her remembrances of him been steeped in such integrity and honor and yet, his opinion of her was so very weak?

To give her fingers something to do, she smoothed the front of her burgundy skirts. “You clearly had no intention of ever seeing me again, Marcus, so I’ll not stand here and humble myself. I’ll not argue with the unsavory opinion you seem to have developed for me over the years. I’ve only come at Grandfather’s request to provide a festive Christmastide season. I’ll do that and when I’m done, I’ll leave. And you’ll never have to see me again.”

Tossing her chin a notch, she snatched her skirts away from him and stormed out of the room.

Only when the wood panel of the door separated her from his piercing, solitary emerald green eye, did she borrow support from the wall outside Grandfather’s office. A shuddery sob wracked her frame. She curled her fingers into tight balls until her nails formed crescents on her palms.

How was she to work alongside him this Christmas season?





Chapter 5


Marcus stared down at the reports in front of him. He set aside the leather folio and rubbed the empty spot under the black velvet patch where his eye once had been. He’d never have imagined the socket-less organ would grate as it did. His entire body ached from having worked in the same position for uninterrupted hours. The sore muscles and ravaged ligaments were just another treasure he’d carried back from the war.

He looked out the window at the gray sky. Thick clouds filled the horizon, blotted all sunlight, and portended another bout of snow.

With a sigh, Marcus gave up on work for the afternoon. He’d gotten very little done, and it had little to do with physical discomfort and everything to do with…her.

Marcus stood and crossed over to the window. He linked his hands behind his back and studied scenery. Thick banks of undisturbed snow covered the estate. There was something so pure in the winter season. It had always been his favorite time of the year. In fact, during the hellish months he’d spent in a French prison, he’d fought against the grating screams and the chirp of rats by imagining the still silence of a snowy, winter day.

And her. He’d gotten through those darkest days by thinking of her.

As if his unspoken thoughts conjured her, she appeared below. Marcus should return to work. He should pull the curtains and reclaim his seat.

Instead, he leaned his brow against the cool windowpane and studied her.

Olivia pulled her thick, red-velvet cloak close, but then shoved down her hood. She tossed back her head and inhaled. Her breath mingled with the cold to create tiny puffs of white air.

Time had passed but it hadn’t aged her in the least. Instead, it had leant a maturity to her form. Her heart-shaped face, the cerulean blue of her eyes, the locks of golden hair haphazardly knotted atop her head, were exactly as he remembered, but gone was the body of a young woman. Even with her lean, litheness she was curved in all the places a woman should be curved: full-breasts, rounded hips, pouty lips. No, Olivia was no longer a child.

Marcus leaned ever closer and unbidden foolish yearnings entered his thoughts. He wished he’d never gone to war. He wished he’d returned a whole man she could be proud of.

How different his life would be. At this very moment, he would be outside with her. He’d bend his head and claim her mouth. She would kiss him back and…

“What are you doing over there, boy?”

Marcus spun around. “Your Grace.”

Danby stomped into the room. His displeasure punctuated by the staccato rhythm of his cane striking the hard floor.

“I gave you a job.”

With reluctance, Marcus shifted his attention from the sight below to the desk littered with paperwork. “I was taking a short break from the ledgers and—"

Danby snorted. “Not the ledgers. I told you to help my granddaughter. You’re to convert this miserable castle into a festive place.”

Marcus had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that it would take a vast deal more than decorations at Christmastide to drive out the demons that rested in the duke’s home.

“Livvie’s going to find a tree.”

Marcus blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“As you should. Sending that girl out there to do a job you should be helping with. Now go.”

Marcus glanced out the window yet again. Now, two young servants stood in conversation with Olivia. She said something that made both young men turn red like holly sprigs. A knot of envy fisted in his belly until Marcus wanted to snap like an injured pup at those insolent servants. How dare they? How dare they turn her perfect bow-shaped lips up in a smile?

He hated them for making her smile. He hated her for smiling. And he hated himself for wanting desperately to be the one responsible for that smile.

“Very well, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Danby gave a curt nod. “Don’t mess this up any more than you have, my boy.”

Marcus paused at the door. “I beg your pardon?”