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So he pulled from her—rather reluctantly—and wrapped his arm around her waist. She released the post with a sigh, and fell into bed as he pulled her.

Damnation, he had so much he wanted to say to her. So much he needed to say.

But his brain was filled with pink fluff, a pleasant sort of haze filling the rest of him.

And in his arms, Olivia yawned as she squirmed and flopped over on her side so she could face him. “Thank you,” she whispered, right before she kissed the only part of him she could reach, which happened to be his left bicep.

He had to grin, seeing how limp-limbed she was, how relaxed. Satiated? He felt the same.

Everything he’d felt an hour ago, when he’d turned to see her talking to Auld Gus…those feelings were still there. But now they were tempered with other feelings.

Ye really do love her, do ye no’?

Aye, there was no denying it now.

Somehow, at some point, his convenient bride had turned into the woman Alistair couldn’t imagine living without.

So what to do about it?

This time, when she yawned, he echoed it.

Tomorrow was Mother’s soiree. The evening he had to welcome Society into his home and allow them to gawk at him. The moment he’d have to poison a man who could be completely innocent in Blackrose’s scheme, in order to lure Blackrose back into the light.

And he was doing it all for Olivia.

Her eyes had closed, and when she snuggled closer to him, Alistair wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. Here he could bury his nose in her hair and remind himself she was safe.

She was his.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter 21

Olivia’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.

When she mentioned this to Amelia—half-afraid she was experiencing some kind of medical attack and deciding someone ought to be aware of it before she collapsed in a pile of skirts and peonies—her sister-in-law had giggled.

“Of course you are nervous, dear! We are all nervous. This is the first time in forever that Effinghell House has hosted an event of this magnitude! Who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates?”

Her sister had leaned in, from where she’d been arranging the peonies Olivia had ferried. “Why have a ballroom with no balls?”

Amelia’s chortle was muffled into a snort. “I am having a difficult time refraining from making a joke about holding one’s balls.”

“No, you are not.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “You just made it. But seriously, it is no wonder you are a ball of nerves, Olivia darling, particularly after what happened last time.”

Amelia blew out a huff. “Oh, let it go, Amanda. Mother has had two glasses of champagne already today ‘to steady her nerves’ and Rocky escorted her to bed for a bit of a rest earlier.”

“Really?” Olivia’s brows rose. Somehow it did make her feel a tad better, knowing even her mother-in-law was so nervous about this evening that she had to take a nap. “Well, I suppose that makes sense.”

Amanda patted her arm. “Everything will go swimmingly. And your friends will be here as well to support you.”

“I am just sorry the Duke of Lickwick and his wife will be absent,” her sister said distractedly, shoving a stalk of something green amongst the flower arrangement. “I would have liked to meet them both, and I could have killed Alistair when I found out they visited without me knowing. Does this look lopsided to you?”

“Yes,” Amanda announced cheerfully. “Flower-arranging is not one of your skills, dear.”

“I can accept and admit that. Animal-rearing is, however.”

Amanda lifted a hand to her mouth and whispered to Olivia, “She had one of the kitchen girls fetch her some eggs last week. She is determined to hatch them.”