Page 49 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

There were not many places in Riordan’s small townhouse where Oliver could steal a few private moments with Mary Tuttle, but he had managed it right after afternoon tea. The visit to Riordan and Sabrina’s home in Carrbury had been bittersweet. After informing Riordan of Aidan being found, and the circumstances surrounding it, there were plenty of recriminations to go around. Why hadn’t we seen the signs? Why hadn’t we done more? Considering they prided themselves on being a supportive family, they had failed miserably with regards to Aidan.

But the men soon moved past such self-indulgence and concluded that they would give Aidan time and space to heal. When he was ready, they would be there for him—in whatever capacity.

Oliver and Julian had decided they would return to Wollstonecraft Hall on Sunday. In the meantime, Oliver was enjoying the visit regardless of the situation. Yesterday afternoon he had sat in on Riordan’s class, completely caught up in the lesson, bursting with pride and admiration for his grandson’s skills.

Then there was Mary. Oliver had not believed that he would see her quite so soon after their emotional parting, but he welcomed her company and the diversion from worrying about Aidan. Alone in the small library-study, Oliver closed the door, then turned and faced Mary. His heart banged furiously in his chest. By God, to have such a rush of passion at his age proved that he still had plenty of living to do. And loving.

Their gazes caught, and Oliver strode toward her with a decided purpose. To hold her. To kiss her deeply. As if reading his mind, Mary started toward him and they met in the middle of the room and shared a kiss so devastating Oliver thought his heart would burst. She tasted sweet. Enticing. As he trailed his mouth across her cheek and down her soft neck, he murmured, “Is it terrible that I wish to forgo all propriety and make love to you here and now?”

Mary moaned. “Oliver, what are we to do? For I feel the same. It has been so long.”

Mary had informed him last night, when they managed to take a short walk, of her sailor fiancé and his tragic death on the same ship as her father. How she had not been with a man since. Hell, he was tempted to suggest they go away together, find some isolated cottage by the sea. Revel in each other’s company, make love whenever the mood struck them. It would be impetuous and scandalous, but certainly in line with being a man of Wollstonecraft Hall.

He cradled her face. “All my talk of a correspondence and deciding what we want…what damned nonsense. I know my mind. I know what is in my heart.”

Mary smiled. “And I know what is in mine as well. You are a sinfully handsome man who has aged well—like a fine wine. I want you, Earl of Carnstone. I want you to make love to me until we are completely spent and I—”

Oliver kissed her fiercely. How he adored this lovely woman and her plainspoken ways. Aching, he took the kiss deeper, then moaned when Mary trailed her fingers across his stiff prick. Bold as well. As he nibbled on her lush lower lip, he said, “I don’t want some brief dalliance, Mary Tuttle.”

“I am to be your mistress, then?” she teased as she squeezed him.

“No. Much more than that. My companion. My friend. My lover. Perhaps more, as—”

There was a sharp rap at the door and they sprang apart. Oliver buttoned his coat as he called out, “Come in.”

It was Julian, and he looked pale. “Gordon has arrived from Wollstonecraft Hall with disturbing news: Garrett has been shot.”

The news hit Oliver as a forceful blow to the solar plexus and he staggered from the shock. Mary immediately came to his side and held his arm. All at once, he felt like an old man.

“It happened when he was out riding with Megan and Mrs. Hughes. He was shot in the shoulder—not deemed fatal, but serious nonetheless. The doctor from Sevenoaks has been summoned, along with Dr. Faraday from London. I suggest we depart with all haste.”

“Yes, of course,” Oliver murmured, still trying to process the news. Hell and damnation, what else was going to happen to this family?

“Riordan was there when Gordon relayed the news. He and Sabrina will be coming as well, as soon as he makes arrangements for his students.” Julian slid his worried gaze to Mary. “I believe, Miss Tuttle, that he will be asking you to stay and assist in his classroom.”

“Yes, I will do anything to help,” she replied.

“Are you all right, Da?” Julian asked.

Julian had not called him that since he was eighteen. Once Garrett was old enough to talk, he’d always called Oliver “Da,” and for a few years, Julian had followed suit. It touched him, hearing it again from his oldest son. At times, Julian could be too self-contained. But not here. “Yes, just give me a minute.”

“I will prepare for our departure.” Julian exited the room, closing the door behind him. Oliver groaned, and Mary assisted him to the settee, then sat beside him, holding him close.

“I cannot lose him, Mary. Garrett is precious to me. It will destroy me if…” His voice shook, his eyes grew moist.

She held him in her arms; her comforting warmth calmed him. “I understand. He is the living link to your lost love. I saw her portrait in your study. Moira was beautiful. You love her still.”

“I do, but not to exclusion of allowing love into my life once more. And I have allowed it, with you, Mary.”

They held each other tight. God, he needed and ached for this. As soon as Garrett was recovered, Oliver would not waste another damned minute. He was in love, as he predicted—for the last time in his life.

* * * *

Time passed far too slowly as Abbie, Dr. Phillips, and Martin took turns keeping pressure on the wound. She’d managed to coax Garrett into drinking cool water during the short periods he was lucid, but he’d remained unconscious for most of the two hours.

Blast, had she made the right decision? Garrett had agreed, but was he in his right mind to make any type of conclusion in his present state? This was not a wound they could bind and hope for the best.

Martin ordered a tray with tea and sandwiches, and Dr. Phillips immediately helped himself. Abbie could not think of food. Her insides tumbled and shook with worry and fright. The thought of losing Garrett tore her asunder.