Olivia Twist(69)

He reached out and brushed aside a curl that had fallen across her face. His feather-soft touch pulled a shudder from deep within her. Still holding her gaze, he dropped his arm and whispered, “All right, Livie, I concede.”

As he limped back toward the carriage and Olivia watched the defeated slope of his shoulders, she couldn’t help but wonder if he referred to more than just the carriage ride home.

With a blink of stinging tears, Olivia followed Jack, wondering how in the world she was going to live her life without him.





CHAPTER 20


Jack tossed and turned, the freshly stitched wound in his side burning with every movement. Sweat coated his skin. The coverlet wrapped around his legs and dragged him into a restless sleep. He could sense her there. As she always was. But this dream was not the typical evocative yet elusive fantasy. This was vivid, like being dropped into a memory . . .

Jack looked around at the park, lush and vibrant with the brilliant greens of spring. A bed of pink and purple tulips surrounded by a ring of sunny daffodils waved on the soft breeze, the occasional petal breaking loose and skittering across the grass. He drew the air deep into his lungs. He couldn’t be sure where he was or why, but he might as well enjoy the fine weather.

Sinking his hands into his pockets, he strolled along the dirt path, still damp from a recent rain, and rounded a corner where he came upon a lovely picnic scene. The woman’s back was to him, but he knew the set of her slim shoulders and the waves of her light caramel hair—Olivia.

Jack smiled, his pulse accelerating as it always did in her presence. He took a step off the path, intent on saying hello, and froze as she turned to the side, displaying a belly rounded like a ripe watermelon beneath her dress. A dimpled grin spread across her face as a dark-haired boy toddled toward her, Brom keeping pace beside him.

Her voice drifted across the clearing as she scooped the child up in her arms. “Who’s my strong boy? You are, that’s who!” She nuzzled his tiny neck, and his sweet baby giggles rang through Jack’s heart, bringing tears to his eyes. This was Olivia’s family.

She had moved on without him.

Jack watched in fascination while she settled the boy beside her on the blanket, and the breeze ruffled through her curls as she opened a wicker basket. She sang a happy tune to the boy and set out three plates, loading two of them with fried chicken, ripe strawberries, and fresh carrots. Jack had never seen her more joyful or more beautiful. Some unknown feeling began to pulse inside him, expanding with every breath, as if a wild beast grew within his body. The animal shifted inward, grasping and clawing. He wanted to be the one to put that sparkle in her eyes, that incandescent glow on her skin. Jack clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Why couldn’t it be him?

Then, from the other side of the glade, came a rustle of leaves. Brom gave a quick bark as the shrubbery parted and a man strode into the clearing.

“I found the other basket, Livie. Right where I left it on the porch.” The man tossed dark hair out of his eyes, his crooked grin innately familiar. The park seemed to tilt on its axis. Jack had seen that face. Every day, looking back at him through the mirror.

“That’s all right, darling. We’ve been having a fine time without you,” Olivia taunted, tilting her chin in that adorably obstinate way of hers.

“Is that so?” Dream-Jack dropped to his knees and set down the basket before stretching over to cup a hand behind her neck. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and Jack felt his own lips pucker in anticipation . . .

He sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding so hard he could see the skin on his chest pulsing in time. What the devil was that?

And more importantly, how could he make it come true?



Stepping through the doors of the Grimwig mansion, Olivia felt a bit like Cinderella dressed in her magical finery, waiting for the stroke of midnight, when she’d turn back into plain old Olivia Brownlow. She watched the elite of society mill about the massive, two-story vestibule. Women in extravagant gowns of velvet and satin preened like exotic birds, the men perfect foils in their somber dark suits. Livered waiters circulated, offering flutes of bubbling champagne to the hundred or so guests. As Olivia took in the scene, she realized that her entire townhome could fit neatly into this front foyer. Would she ever feel comfortable in this palace?

If only her uncle were here to hold her hand and lend her courage. He had taken a turn for the worse, the doctor forbidding him to leave the house. At first, Olivia refused to go without him, but her uncle would have none of it. So, after she’d finished dressing for the ball, she’d swept into his bedroom to show off her elegant gown. His head had poked over the pile of quilts, tears gathering in his eyes, and he’d declared her his beautiful angel. Tugging on her hand, he’d asked her to sit beside him and whispered, “It isn’t too late to change your mind, you know.” Olivia had known he spoke of her engagement without having to ask. “Follow your heart, dearest.” It was all he could say, before a coughing fit overtook him.

But she’d read the rest in his eyes: I’m not long for this world. Don’t plan your life around me. Olivia suspected it was true, but the very thought of living without her uncle left her floating like a boat cut free of its anchor, tossed from wave to wave on a vast and turbulent ocean.

“Olivia, I simply cannot stop looking at you in that gown,” Violet exclaimed, interrupting her morose thoughts. “The color is radiant on you!” Her cousin passed her wrap to the cloakroom attendant, revealing her own lovely emerald dress.