OLIVIA
Chapter Thirty-Five

The night air was cool against Olivia’s skin as she stepped out onto the patio. She gripped the small slip of paper in her hand, the words written on it searing into her mind. She had found it tucked beneath her hand mirror on her vanity as she was dressing for bed.

At the stables…was all it said, but she knew what it meant. She had waited for Cal to fall asleep before attempting to rise and go downstairs. She bit her lip and frowned, contemplating what she would do. Her heart was heavy, as was her mind on what the significance of meeting Patrick would actually mean.

She released a small, tense sigh and looked toward the sloping hill that led down to the stables, knowing that Patrick was there waiting for her. She pulled her robe close around her and started across the patio and out onto the lawn.

She kept looking back over her shoulder in the darkness, fearing someone would see her, but all was dark and quiet. Her heart was beating rapidly as she neared the spread-out wood structure. She could see the large doors with a bold H on each side that led inside where the horses were kept, but her eyes focused on the small side door instead.

Nearly running the last bit of the way, she stopped to catch her breath, leaning against the door facing for support. Her eyes darted around the expansive darkness, trying to see if anyone was about, but again all was quiet and dark. Nervously, she turned to the door, gripped the handle, and slowly opened it, peering inside as she did.

The aroma of fresh-cut hay, manure, and horseflesh permeated her senses as she stepped deeper inside. Closing the door behind her, she felt along the wall as she came into the opening. She could hear the soft snorts of the horses and quiet thud of their hooves as they shifted in their stalls.

Afraid to speak, she narrowed her eyes into the semi-darkness, hoping to see Patrick or at least hear him. Suddenly, the gritty sound of footsteps against the wood floors broke the silence, and a figure appeared from one of the stalls.

"You came," his rich-timbred voice spoke to her.

Olivia felt her pulse quicken as he came closer to her. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him in a gray, loose-fitting shirt and black linen pants that were covered to the knee by worn brown boots.

"Yes," she whispered nervously.

He stared at her intensely for a moment and offered her his hand. She took it, and he slowly led her to the empty stall he had just come from. He propelled her deep into the back, where a small blanket lay spread out on the hay. He helped her sit, and then he joined her.

Neither of them spoke at first. The silence hung thick in the air around them. She fiddled nervously with her rings, licking her lips every so often to moisten them. She glanced up at him and spoke softly. "Patrick, I don’t know if I can do this…"

He had propped himself up on his elbow in front of her. He was watching her play with her rings when he placed his hand over hers to stop her movements. "I’m not forcing you to be here."

"No," she answered quietly, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers. "I’m just so confused…and afraid."

He nodded slightly, still giving nothing away. "Do you want to go back?" he questioned her.

"That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want." She paused and looked down into his eyes. "Tonight something happened…it’s complicated."

"Then why are you here?" he asked in response.

"I don’t know," she admitted as she shook her head.

"Olivia." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I know this is dangerous, and I know what’s at stake. I don’t want you to be here with me if you don’t want to be."

She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. "But that’s just it, Patrick. I do want to be here with you. More than you know, but…" Tiny tears formed in her eyes as she looked away from him. "This is impossible. This whole thing is impossible."

Patrick brought her into his arms and held her. He murmured little words of comfort in her ear and then he pulled back slightly, kissing the salty tears from around her eyes. His lips were but a whisper as he moved around her face, softly kissing her. Finally…finally he came to her mouth. He lingered there, not moving…waiting breathlessly for her to respond.

"Olivia." He said her name, letting the sound of it roll off of his tongue sweetly.

She moved her head up slightly, bringing her mouth close to his. It was wrong…it was wrong…her mind said over and over, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Slowly, his mouth came over hers firmly and yet gently, taking his time as he softly nipped at her lips. There was no pressure, no urgency to stop; there was only the two of them caught up in their exploration of each other.

He brought his hand to the base of her neck and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as he did. Olivia was lost in the wonder of him, lost in what he was doing to her and what she was feeling. Slowly, he left her mouth and made his way down her neck, kissing her softly as he came to the sensitive area beneath her ear. She could feel his warm breath spreading out on her skin as he did.

"This can’t be happening," she breathed. "We have to stop before it goes too far."

He laughed quietly against her throat and slid his hands up through her hair. "I’ve already gone too far. There’s no turning back for me now. Whatever happens from this moment on, I’m going to be in love with you."

"Oh, Patrick." She sighed as he once again covered her mouth with his own. The kiss went on and on, and just when she thought she could take no more, he pulled back, allowing only a minimal amount of space between them.

"I want you, Olivia," he whispered hotly.

"I can’t," she breathed, and shook her head. "At least not yet. Things are too complicated as it is."

"This is torture," he groaned, but still he held her close. "To want you, knowing I can’t have you, is more than I can bear."

"I know, but I just can’t. It’s too soon, Patrick." She pulled back to look at him, her eyes pleading up at him. "Please understand. Please tell me you do."

As he stared down at her, he gave her a sorrowful smile. "What choice do I have? I understand because I know what kind of woman you are and that’s the woman who would tell me no right now, even when I can’t think clearly myself."

"You’re not angry?" she asked warily.

He answered by shaking his head. "No, I’m not angry. Never with you," he said, and kissed the tip of her nose. "I think you should leave, though. You don’t want to take the chance of being missed, should…" He paused for a moment and glanced upwards. "…he awaken and miss you."

"Yes," she agreed, and closed her eyes. "You’re right, of course."

He stood and pulled her to her feet, holding her hand as he walked her from the stall to the side door. "Sleep well," he whispered, and pulled her into his arms again. This time he kissed her more passionately, letting her feel the love he had for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, kissing him back with as much love as she felt. All too soon, it was time to leave, and she only looked back once as she made her way to the house. She didn’t see him, but she knew he was there. Quietly, she crept in and back to her room, where she silently slid into bed.

November, 1914

The routine of finally being back home set in, and Olivia found much of her time was spent running the household and being with her children. As satisfying as it all was, every once in a while she would feel the sensation of emptiness, like a part of her was missing. She had given it much thought over the weeks and she had come to the conclusion that her life narrowed down to two the things…Cal’s need of her and Patrick’s love for her. Alone, neither of them could stand, but neither could she have them both. She was split completely down the middle in her feelings, and she could find no comfort in either one.

She had not seen Patrick alone in the week and a half they had been home, not since the night in the barn. Discretion was essential to her survival, no matter how strong the feeling was to go to him. The impossibility of this situation also grew every day, and as hard as she tried, she could see no easy answer or a conclusive end to it.

It was the evening of the Carter’s Masquerade Ball, and Olivia and Cal were on their way to attend. The theme of the party was the French Court of Louis the Fourteenth. The costumes were to be elaborate creations of brocade, satin, silk, ribbons, and colorful gems. Olivia’s own gown was that of several shades of blue and trimmed in gold and ivory. Her headpiece was a fan of powder blue feathers secured by a jewel encrusted comb, which was nestled in the elaborate upswept hairdo Marietta had created. Her mask matched the headpiece with its blue and ivory tones and the same encrusted jewels, covering more than half of her face.

Cal was not quite as fancily done, but his brocade coat and breeches of rich gold and ivory were quite striking on his lean form, giving him the look of an aristocrat from long ago.

As usual, Patrick and Marietta accompanied them to assist in whatever way they were needed. As they passed through the Carters’ gate, the automobiles were lined up in front of the brightly lit manor. As they waited for their car to reach the front, Cal adjusted his cravat and smoothed down his coat.

"I can’t believe my mother suggested this. I feel ridiculous," he slightly huffed.

"Just relax, Cal. This is supposed to be fun," Olivia replied.

"Fun…" He shook his head mockingly. "What is fun about dressing up like a peacock? I don’t know what was wrong with the gala as it was."

Olivia didn’t answer this time, but swept her eyes over to Patrick, who in turn gave her a small wink. She smiled slightly and then turned her head away from him so as to not give herself away.

Cal dipped into his pocket and removed a small silver flask, unscrewed the lid, and took a drink from it. Olivia frowned at him. He had been drinking a lot lately, she thought to herself. Now he had taken to carrying it around with him as well.

"Do you think that’s wise?" she asked quietly. "I know you had at least two drinks before we left."

Cal turned his dark eyes onto her and bristled tensely. "Are you keeping track of my drinking habits now?"

"I can’t help but notice it. You’ve taken to drinking more and more lately."

"My drinking habits are none of your concern, my dear wife." He gripped his jacket and stashed the flask away. "I’ll thank you to stay out of my business and do not question me about anything I do."

"And if I do question you, what then? Do you not think I know how much you’ve been drinking? I’m not blind, Cal," she finished curtly.

His face registered disbelief at her small outburst. Then his eyes lowered and his lips curled back into a snide grin. "My, my," he drawled heavily. "You’re quite the little performer tonight, Olivia. Care to make anymore observations on my behavior?" he asked in a tone that suggested that if she were wise, she wouldn’t.

Olivia leaned back in the seat and turned her head away from him. "No," she answered resolutely. "I have nothing else to say about your drinking."

"See? I knew you’d come to your senses," he answered with a triumphant smile. "Now, let’s not let this little incident ruin our evening. We’re here to have a good time, and in spite of these ridiculous clothes, I intend to."

Olivia bit the inside of her lip as she closed her eyes in frustration. When she opened them, she saw Patrick looking at her, his jaw twitching in controlled anger. Her frustration instantly turned to fear when she saw his face. He was giving far too much away, and she begged him with her eyes to not show his feelings so clearly. She glanced over at Cal, but he was smoothing down his jacket and not looking in Patrick’s direction.

No, she mouthed to him. Please. She slightly shook her head. His hands were tightened into fists as his eyes danced brightly with anger, but upon her pleading request he released them and let out a small, tense breath. Olivia could only stare at him in appreciation. At that moment, the Daimler pulled up to the front and the door was opened by a costumed footman. Cal stepped out first, and then he helped Olivia out. Patrick and Marietta were to stay inside as they were to enter in the back with the other servants.

As the automobile drove away, Olivia took Cal’s outstretched arm and they walked up the carpeted walkway and through the brightly lit open doors. They were immediately greeted by Madeline and Hawthorne Carter, who were brightly dressed in similar seventeenth century attire.

"Caledon, Olivia, how lovely you could come." She smiled and pressed her lips to Olivia’s cheek in a kiss.

"Thank you, Mrs. Carter," Olivia responded.

"Madeline, lovely as ever." Cal took her hand and gave her a sweeping kiss on her outstretched hand.

"Caledon." She smiled warmly at him. "As debonair as usual, I see."

"Hockley." Hawthorne shook his hand and then bowed to Olivia. "Please, come and enjoy yourselves. Refreshments are being served in the reception room."

"Thank you." Cal bowed, and then he took Olivia’s arm as they continued on their way inside. "This should prove to be an interesting night," Cal whispered in her ear.

He didn’t know how correct those prophetic words were going to be.

Chapter Thirty-Six
Stories