Regency Christmas Pact 02 - A Gentlemen's Pact by Jerrica Knight-Catania Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t have me either. That’s when I met Jack—he was a blacksmith and happened to be at my aunt’s estate the day I arrived. Unlike anyone of higher society, he didn’t care about my indiscretions. He loved me in spite of them, and he loved Marcus, too.”
    “And did you love him?”
    That was the question Olivia hoped no one would ever ask her. She’d gone nearly seven years without having to answer it—without ever having to voice the sad truth. But now Rowan stared at her, so intent, so sincere. He deserved to know everything. All of it. Every ounce of the truth.
    “I loved him in my own way,” she said. “He was a good man. He took care of me, of Marcus. How could I not love him?”
    Rowan shifted in his seat. “Let me ask another way, if I may?” There was a pause. Olivia knew what he was going to ask before he even asked it. “Were you in love with him?”
    There was no avoiding it now. She was a horrific liar. After a moment, she shook her head.
    “You…ruined me,” she finally admitted. “In more ways than one.”
    In direct opposition to the tumultuous feelings of unrest and humiliation that Olivia was experiencing, Rowan seemed to be in his glory. He sat back against the sofa with the smuggest smile she’d ever seen on any man. If she wasn’t so uncomfortable about her admission, she might have found him amusing.
    “Well, now, it’s not every day a woman admits to pining for you for seven long years.” Rowan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m awfully glad I decided to pay you a call this morning, Mrs. Edwards.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, trying to gather up some bravado, of which she had very little. “I did have a constant reminder of you…and of that night.”
    Rowan looked sideways at her, the smug grin still on his face. “That was a lovely night, wasn’t it? You did surprise me, I must admit.”
    Heat rushed to Olivia’s cheeks. How could he speak so plainly of such things?
    Wanting desperately to change the subject, she asked, “So, what are your intentions, Mr. Findley? Now you know the truth. Marcus is your son, though I’m not certain I’m ready to tell him that.”
    It twisted her heart to think of telling him that Jack wasn’t his real father. Poor Jack. He’d been so good to Marcus, yet as time went on, the child’s memories of the man faded. He asked many questions about Jack—what foods did he like, what kind of man was he, was he smart—in a desperate attempt to feel a connection to his father. Would the questions stop if he learned Rowan was truly his father? Would he ever understand the wonderful man Jack was?
    Rowan sat forward and placed his elbows on his knees. The smugness was gone. “I don’t actually know, Olivia. This is all kind of a surprise to me.”
    “Yes, for me too,” she put in. “I could hardly believe when you appeared at Hamlin Abbey. I hadn’t made the connection between you and Lady Swaffham, so you can imagine…”
    She broke off when she realized Rowan was staring at her with a strange look. What was that expression? Did she have something in her teeth?
    “Why are you looking at me like that?” She pulled the blanket even higher up. Any higher and it would cover her face completely.
    His wry smile told her he was most likely thinking of that night in the stable. Blast him. She might be a lonely woman with base desires, but she wasn’t the wanton chit she was seven years ago. She was a responsible, mature widow with a child. Did he think to woo her with his dashing looks and devastating smile?
    He shrugged. “No reason.”
    “Liar.”
    “Fine,” he said, looking at her pointedly. “I was thinking about kissing you. There. Happy?”
    Heat rushed to Olivia’s cheeks and she wished she could toss the stifling blanket aside, her body was so aflame. She hadn’t felt this way in…well, seven years, actually. She hated to admit that. Poor Jack. They’d had a tender romance built on friendship, but