Page 147

For once, Alistair was grateful he didn’t have to say anything. He offered his mother a little nod and, beaming, she allowed Thorne to lead her away.

Alistair’s gaze went to his wife, who was now chatting animatedly with a few women. Nay, a few friends.

She fits in here.

She might not have been duchess material at first, but it was impossible to deny she’d managed to turn his household on its ear. They loved her as much as he did, and she’d made friends among the like-minded crusaders of Society.

Who needed stuck-up snobs like Bonkinbone and his ilk? Alistair and Olivia would be satisfied by surrounding themselves with their true friends.

And as much as he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and escape to their bedroom, she deserved a night like tonight. A night at ease, surrounded by luxury and her friends, the center of attention for all the right reasons.

As if she could sense his thoughts, Olivia looked up and met his gaze across the room. When she smiled, he mirrored her.

Nay, he couldn’t steal her away from her party, but perhaps a dance…

* * *

Tired but thrilled after a stupendous evening, Olivia tipped her head forward as her husband’s lips skipped across the skin on the back of her neck. “Should I call back the maid?” she teased?

Alistair hummed, obviously distracted. Smiling, she rotated her chin so he could reach that sensitive spot under her ear which he knew she loved.

“It’s just…you’re supposed to be unbuttoning my gown, Alistair. If you can’t focus…”

When his teeth nipped at her skin in obvious reprimand, she giggled. But his fingers—which had stilled—began to work on her buttons once more. Of course, when her gown gaped open, he merely moved his ministrations to her back.

Well, who could blame him? She was as desperate as he was.

As the sumptuous silk purple gown fell around her arms, she squeezed together the sides of her corset, popping it free. Alistair pulled it from her without pausing his kisses, which made her want to giggle again—but his fingers were already working on the ties of her chemise.

“If your intention is to strip me nude while you are still fully clothed, I shall be most wroth.”

The noise her husband made was somewhere between a snort and a hum, but she was delighted to hear him make any noise, and thus turned in his arms.

“Just as I suspected; still fully clothed.”

Alistair glanced down at himself, then stuck out a foot. “Took off…shoes.”

“Oh, that you did.” Smiling hugely, Olivia reached for his necktie. “Have I told you how magnificent you looked tonight?”

His fingers were flying over his waistcoat buttons. “No’…beautiful…as ye.”

“Pshaw. I towered over every woman there—”

He interrupted her with a finger on her lips. “Beautiful.” His gaze darted lower, to where the gown was held up only by her elbows. “Wedding gown.”

He remembered? Her heart melted. “Oh, Alistair.” She wasn’t certain he remembered anything from that rushed ceremony. “Have I told you today how much I love you? Thank you for tonight. I think we’ll have another two investors for the paper, and I’ve already put your name and mine to a handful of petitions.”

“Aye?”

“Aye,” she mimicked teasingly. “I know you hate social events, but you have to admit that they’re helpful. And tonight was fun.”

His lips twitched begrudgingly and he shrugged.

She knew he’d enjoyed himself, especially when dancing with her. It was the first time he’d danced in public apparently, and when he’d taken her in his arms, everything else had faded to the background. “Thank you,” Olivia whispered again. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Deserve it.” When his thumb brushed against her lower lip, she shivered, mouth opening just slightly so her tongue could touch the digit. “Magnificent. Mine.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yours.” His silver-gray gaze flashed with fierce joy. “And you’re mine, Alistair Kincaid. We belong to each other. I’ll stand beside you, no matter what—”