Ten Days with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #11) - Erica Ridley Page 0,44

behavior, and did not regret a single moment of it.

Her mood was buoyant. With an irrepressible grin, Olive dressed in plaits and breeches, and scooped up a carrot from the kitchen on her way out to the stables to exercise the horses.

A lover!

And not just any lover... she had Elijah Weston.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of his name. And the thought of his hands. And the thought of his mouth. And the thought of his—

Was there anything she disliked about the man he’d become? He’d hurt her in the past, but that had been years ago. He’d been a child then, just like her. Now he was a full-grown burly botanist whose greatest passions were helping others and kissing her.

He’d been a perfect gentleman from the moment of his arrival, taking great care not to pressure her at any point. Nor did he become peevish when she turned down his marriage proposal... twice. He let her be in control and trusted her to make her own decisions. Her happiness came first. Olive frowned.

Was taking a lover what would make her happy?

She tightened Duke’s saddle, then moved on to Rudolph and Mr. Edward. Taking a lover was fantastic and freeing, like riding over the hills with the wind in her hair.

But wild rides and lovers were temporary. Now that she’d fallen in love with Elijah, she wasn’t ready to give him up. Olive suspected she never would be.

How she wished he had come on his own, and not at the behest of her father!

If there were some way to be certain that Elijah’s interest lay only in her, and not the attractive dowry of one of the most famous stud farms in England, then...

Then, yes. Yes, she would marry him.

But how could she be sure?

Olive tightened Charley’s saddle, then gave him a pat on the rump to go and join the others.

She couldn’t be sure, that was the thing. In the same way that the hurts of their pasts could not be undone, nor could her father’s manipulative actions. In the hopes of repairing an old rift, Papa had dangled the farm as bait. Elijah had come to claim it—and her.

And... the rift was repaired. Oh, perhaps not between Papa and the Marquess of Milbotham, but that was between those two. Olive and Elijah had more than made up.

It came down to a matter of trust.

There would never be proof. If she wanted to decide things for herself, well, here was her opportunity. Did she trust Elijah with her heart or not?

As she emerged from the stables, he was just approaching the fence.

Her heart gave a little flip.

Entrust him with it? Her heart was already his.

She ran up to lean over the fence in greeting. The horses followed, four hair-tossing bridesmaids dressed in the finest leather, hoping to catch the carrot.

He stopped her before she could kiss him.

“Olive.” His eyes were strangely serious. “We need to discuss something.”

This time, the flutter was not in her heart, but deep in the pit of her stomach, where all bad things lurked and churned.

“What is it?” Her voice was flat, but didn’t shake. Neither did her hands or legs.

He was still here, she still hadn’t agreed to marry him... How bad could it be?

“First,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, and I know an apology isn’t enough.”

All right, yes. Her hands might be shaking.

“Did what?” she asked. She hoped he wouldn’t answer.

“I didn’t come up here to marry you.”

“I know.” This was safe enough ground. “My father wanted to heal the breach between the families, and your father probably wanted our farm in your hands so that we would technically have nothing.”

“That would be a breach of good faith,” Elijah agreed. “No doubt it was my father’s contingency plan, if we accidentally ended up married.”

She blinked. “You didn’t come up here to marry me?”

“I was sent to humiliate you and your father. To reenact the aftermath of our first kiss on an even grander scale. My father expected you to obey yours and agree to the betrothal.” Elijah took a deep breath. “I was to wait until the next day, when you told the happy news to your friends, and had the announcement printed in the papers. Until ideally you and your father were standing before the altar in front of witnesses... and then jilt you publicly, saying...” He coughed into his fist. “I won’t repeat it.”

She recoiled in horror.

“I didn’t do it,” he said quickly.

“You were going to do