begin thinking about who might be suitable. Her ladyship will call on you when she is ready to discuss the matter further with you.” He smiled at Olivia. “Won’t you, my dear lady wife?”
Touched beyond words at Hamish’s unexpected show of support, Olivia took a moment to find her voice. “Yes . . . I will.”
Mrs. Boyd curtsied with due deference. “Verra good, my lady. My lord.”
“Excellent,” said Hamish. “That will be all.”
The chastened housekeeper quit the room, and then Hamish began to take his leave as well.
“You’re not going to use your own dressing room?” Olivia asked his retreating back.
Hamish paused on the threshold with one arm braced against the doorjamb. The line of his broad shoulders was tight, his back ramrod straight. He curled his fingers into a tightly clenched fist. “It’s better if I use Angus’s room,” he said without turning around. “I thought you and wee Tilda might like some privacy.”
“Yes. Of course,” replied Olivia. He was right. But all the same, his continued refusal to spend time alone with her stung.
“I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you and Tilda to the nursery to meet Nurse Swan.”
“We’ll . . . we’ll be ready . . . Only . . .” Olivia’s gaze darted to the hidden door that would never be used by her husband. She watched Tilda slip through it into the next room to observe the maids at work. She couldn’t bear this ongoing estrangement. Each rejection felt like another little chip into her self-esteem. A chiseling away of her dream to build a lasting, loving relationship.
Without thinking, Olivia moved to the door and reached out toward her seemingly implacable husband. Dared to place a hand on his shoulder. Tense muscle flexed beneath her palm. Shifted.
All at once, Hamish moved, and Olivia found she was trapped between a cold stone wall and a granite-hard body.
“Christ, Olivia,” he grated out, and captured her face in his hands. “Forgive me.”
And then he kissed her.
* * *
* * *
He couldn’t bear it any longer. He couldn’t resist his worst impulses.
He might wish himself to be as unfeeling as stone, but he wasn’t.
As soon as Olivia reached out to him, Hamish knew he was lost. Her tentative touch seared through his clothes. Branded him.
He wanted. He burned. Hot lust shot through his veins, and Hamish knew he had to kiss Olivia. Claim her in the most basic of ways.
His kiss was ravaging. Plundering. Hard, bruising, demanding, and desperate. There was no way to contain this pent-up desire. It was overwhelming. Incendiary. And the taste of Olivia’s sweeter-than-honey lips, her tongue, the sound of her moans, the feel of her soft, silken flesh beneath his hands, were the only things that would quench the insatiable need roaring through his veins like wildfire.
The last few days had been hellish. Not only had Hamish been in a constant lather of thwarted lust—because he refused to give in to his base male urges—but he’d also been plagued by bouts of self-loathing. He never should have joined Olivia in the carriage on the final leg to Glasgow. Not when he’d been so exhausted.
When he was in the throes of a nightmare, he had no idea what he was doing. If he’d lashed out . . . the danger to anyone nearby was real. When he’d woken on the floor of the carriage and realized what had happened, he was physically ill at the thought of what he could have done to wee Tilda or Olivia.
He’d endeavored to keep his distance from Olivia for as long as possible. But as soon as he’d set foot on Skye, it was as if the savage blood of his ancestors began to thunder through him. His hunger for Olivia had grown keener. Hotter. And at the very first opportunity, the mindless ravening beast who wanted to take, take, take everything this lovely gentle lass had to offer had been unleashed.
Yet it seemed he wasn’t the only one who wanted. Olivia was in no way a reluctant participant. Her hands kneaded his chest. She brazenly pushed her hips against his growing erection as she kissed him back with a fervor that astounded him. And it only made Hamish that much madder for her.
Yes, he’d succumbed to madness. He didn’t care that Tilda might be nearby. Or that half a dozen maids might be in the next room.
Nothing mattered to him except this woman and this abandoned, completely addictive kiss. And deep down, he knew this