True Story (The Deverells, Book One) (45 page)

Hope shining amid the darkness, like
those ribbon snowdrops in her hair.

At a coaching inn somewhere between
London and Exeter, he heard a woman complaining about the slush and
her new boots. He would know that voice anywhere. And there she
was.

True ran across to save her — and her
boots—with his new umbrella.

She looked up, startled, pale but for
a bruise on her cheek. "Oh, there you are."

"Where else would I
be?"
Damn you, woman, I don't know where I
am with you. From the first moment I was lost.
But he kept a civil tongue in his head and tried not to stare
at her lips.

"Well, you did leave me
behind."

He wanted to kiss her, so very badly.
In front of the coachman who had just helped her down. "I had
business to tend. You knew that."

"But you are supposed to be polite and
say goodbye to a person when you're leaving them
behind."

"Why should I? I was coming back
again, woman."

She shook her head. "You have a lot to
learn."

"And you can teach me." True carefully
touched a finger below her bruise. "What's this?"

"The past," she said
firmly.

Anger flexed its claws within.
"Where's Chesterfield?"

Olivia blinked. "I don't know who you
mean, dear. Oh, I almost forgot, you owe the coachman half the fee.
And," she tugged on his sleeve, "your name is Mr. Arthur King.
Don't look at me like that. It's not the first time you've used a
false name, is it?"

He had to laugh at her prim
expression. "I've missed you."

She smiled. "And I you. Let's hurry
home."

"Home?"

"To Roscarrock, of course."

True dare not yet believe that she was
staying forever. They'd have to take it one day at a time. He
didn't want her to feel trapped.

As he helped her up into his own
carriage, she said, "You ought to marry me, you know."

Jumping up behind her and closing the
carriage door, he wasn't certain he'd heard her correctly. He fell
back into his seat and she immediately moved across to sit beside
him, wide eyes regarding him earnestly. "Because you need
me."

He thought for a minute, his pulse
speeding recklessly. "You turned me down, Olivia the
Merciless."

"Well, yes." She reached up and tapped
on the carriage roof as a signal to the driver. "But ladies do
change their minds occasionally. It's a well known
fact."

The horses set off, the carriage
bouncing and rumbling back toward Cornwall.

True took her hand and kissed it. "I
think we should wait."

She scowled. "For what?"

"For two years. When you turn thirty,
I'll ask you again. You may decide by then, that you don't want
me.”

"Why, for pity's sake?"

"Your situation might be different.
You might have met some other man who—"

She leaned over and kissed
him.

The carriage went over a bump that
bounced her right into his lap. And he held her tightly, keeping
her safe, as he always would.

"In the meantime, it will be up to me
to court you properly."

She laughed. "Good lord, do you know
how?"

"No. You'll have to teach me, Olivia."
He kissed her chin and her ear and then made his way down the side
of her neck. "I'll be a very good pupil. Very diligent. Very
determined."

* * * *

He had not asked her anything more
about the bruise, or about Christopher, and for that she was
grateful. Instinctively he knew when to let a matter drop, when it
would cause more pain to discuss it. Most men would not understand
that, but True Deverell was not "most men".

Of course, there were other ways to
fill their time on that journey home.

It was January the twelfth
in the year 1843. A Thursday and, according to her father's mended
watch, it was just after half past three in the
afternoon.

He was wearing a very fine
coat, butter soft under her fingers and he smelled of spice,
tobacco and warm leather. His eyes, mercurial in color and
temperament, swept over her like a rain shower, cleansing and
magical.

And that was the moment
when True Deverell finally said, "I love you."

* * * *

Two Months
later...

"My love, we're never going to finish
your memoirs, if this is how things continue," she muttered as they
lay together by the fire in his library, both naked and wrapped in
a fleece-lined blanket. "We have written precisely six sentences
tonight."

But True was too busy counting the
colors in her hair, until, in his corner vision he spied her hand,
on the end of that long, elegant arm, crawling out of the fleece in
search of her father's watch.Again.

He reached over and caught her
fingers, bringing them to his lips. "I'm beginning to wish I never
got that damn thing fixed for you. What was I thinking?"

She chuckled. "It's a good thing you
did, for that was when I knew for sure that I was in love with you,
sir."

"Sir? Back to that again are
we?"

"It seems only proper. I am your
employee still. Since you refuse to marry me yet."

He licked her palm. "There's no haste,
Olivia sweetheart. I want you to be sure. But I'm not going
anywhere. I know what I want."

She moved her head against the fleece
to look up at him. "Are you afraid I want you for your
money?"

True shook his head.

"Well, I
am
after your money,"
she said with a smile. "I don't want to be poor. I'm not a
fool."'

He grinned. "Mercenary. So much for
love."

"I love you too, of course. How could
I not? You are wickedly irresistible."

As he looked down at his very special
secretary, True realized she was the most beautiful woman he had
ever known. She was utterly unaware of it, and a good thing too.
Wouldn't want her getting too bold and taking advantage of his
hapless state. But at that moment he simply wanted to show her how
much he loved her, and thus he proceeded to do so, kissing his way
slowly down her body.

"We have all the time in the world to
finish my story. All the time in the world."

Because he had a great deal more of
life yet to live after all.

Also from Jayne Fresina and
TEP:

Souls Dryft

The Taming of the Tudor
Male Series

Seducing the
Beast

Once A Rogue

The Savage and the Stiff Upper
Lip

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ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

Jayne Fresina sprouted up
in England, the youngest in a family of four daughters. Entertained
by her father's colorful tales of growing up in the countryside,
and surrounded by opinionated sisters - all with far more exciting
lives than hers - she's always had inspiration for her beleaguered
heroes and unstoppable heroines.

Website
at:
www.jaynefresina.com

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