To Tempt a Scandalous Lord by Liana De la Rosa
Chapter Seventeen
The soil was damp between Alicia’s fingers.
She should wear gloves when working in the garden, but the gritty texture of the dirt and the earthy scent that permeated the air as she raked her trowel through it soothed her. Grounded her.
It brought forth memories of her mother. Of sunny afternoons spent in the little yard in front of their cottage in Westmorland, where they had laughed and counted ladybugs and cheered when her carefully tended wisteria bloomed bright and cheerful.
Although Alicia had visited several times to tend the garden at Little Windmill House with the children, and had adored their antics, she craved a garden of her own. To work and cultivate. To create and nourish life in ways her real life had so far denied her.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Alicia tilted her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the sunlight that peeked through the boughs above to warm her face.
However, the rays had abruptly lost their warmth as she thought of her next exposition about the Factory Act. The legislation had passed the year before, and a majority of the public assumed it had solved the issue of child labor. But her essay outlined what the Factory Act accomplished, and also all there was left to do to protect children employed in dangerous occupations in often dangerous working conditions.
Alicia was immensely proud of it, of how she’d refuted popular claims about the need for additional reforms and given specific ways Parliament could address them. And, of course, it highlighted how beneficial it would be to have Niall helm such changes.
Effia had sent a note just that morning asking when Alicia would have her next article ready, because the last one had been so impactful.
She yearned to tell Niall about it, to hear his thoughts about the ways she suggested Parliament could enact worthwhile changes. Seeing how hard he worked every day to see to his responsibilities, whether it was reading proposals, crafting legislation, or conversing for long hours with his colleagues over all sorts of issues affecting the country, told her he would take great interest in her ideas. He’d walked in while she was editing yesterday, and when he asked what she was working on, the truth had been on her tongue. Instead, she swallowed it down and told him she was writing a letter to Flora.
Secrets had a way of coming out, though, and she would have to speak her truth sooner or later.
A soft rustle drew her eyes open, jolting her back to the garden, and she swallowed back a gasp when she spied the object of her thoughts sitting on a bench several feet away, his gray gaze intent upon her.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, quickly rubbing her palms on her apron. “Surely you shouldn’t be here. You don’t want to overtire yourself.”
His chuckle was deep and hearty. “I’m perfectly hale. I’ve long since recovered, and a bit of fresh air never hurt anyone.”
Alicia pressed her lips together. Niall certainly did not look as if cholera had attempted to steal him away from her. He was dressed as immaculately as ever, but his dark locks fell loose about his face, softening the sharp slash of his cheekbones and the firm line of his jaw. Tucked into the shade and surrounded by the vibrantly colored flowers the gardener tended dutifully, Niall appeared relaxed in a way she had never seen from him before.
He’d yet to return to the normal, hectic schedule that used to leave him drained at the end of each night, but Alicia suspected it would not be much longer until he did. So far, he had managed just fine working from the study, committee members and colleagues visiting regularly for meetings. Alicia had become used to the steady stream of visitors traipsing through Campbell House visiting with her husband. But there was no denying Niall was itching to return to Westminster, and she could not blame him for wanting some portion of his life to return to normal…even as she worried the comfortable accord they had settled into would be no more.
“Your thoughts are quite loud.”
Alicia jerked her chin back, dropping her gaze, but not before she spied the small smile haunting his mouth.
Clearing her throat, she ventured, “And what, pray tell, do they say?”
“That you’re wondering when I’ll be returning to Westminster now that I have recovered.”
She scowled.
“I do believe you’ll miss me when I’m no longer underfoot for you to snipe at.”
“I do not snipe,” Alicia huffed with a glare.
His answering grin lit his whole face. “And I will miss how easily I can send you into a flutter.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll have plenty of opportunities to aggravate each other in the evenings.”
Niall was silent for a moment, but the manner in which he flexed his jaw told her he was mulling over a thought.
“Was there something else?” she asked, cocking her head.
“I believe you were also admiring my appearance.” He planted his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Do you think I’m handsome, wife?”
Alicia’s answering snort was indelicate. “Of course I do. I have two working eyes, do I not?”
His bark of laughter warmed her all over. “Indeed you do. You have the loveliest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure to glare at me.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, but could do nothing to stop the flush that swept across her cheeks.
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying a word. The air between them crackled, and her skin tingled with an unknown intensity. When she licked her suddenly dry lips, his gaze smoldered as it dropped to her mouth.
“Excuse me, your ladyship, but I have those seeds you requested.”
And like a popped bubble, the moment was over.
Alicia ripped her gaze away from Niall and willed it to focus on the gardener instead. “Thank you, Mr. MacGill,” she murmured, accepting the packet with a smile.
With a tip of his hat to Niall, the gardener ambled away, unaware he’d left a yawning tension in his wake.
Or perhaps the tension only existed in her mind, because Niall raised his brows. “What do you intend to plant in this little patch of earth you’ve cleared for yourself?”
“Just a few vegetables and some herbs.” Alicia lifted a shoulder. “I thought I’d put to use some of the tips I learned from the children at Little Windmill.”
“They’ll delight in hearing it,” he said, his voice soft. Maybe even a bit tender.
And tender made her nervous, like her heart might just thunder out of her chest. Lindsay had never inspired this sort of reaction in her during their many years of marriage, but conversing with Niall, even whilst she sat in the dirt, made her stomach flip upside down.
Desperate to restore a measure of her equilibrium, Alicia cast her thoughts about for a distraction.
“We received an invitation to the Dunmore dinner party tonight? The countess was quite eager for you to attend.” She quirked her lips. “After your illness and recovery, you are the ton’s most sought-after guest.”
Niall crossed his ankles and leaned back. “If that is the case, it’s only because you have somehow turned my very humbling illness into public relations gold.”
“Yes well, I thought you were very thoughtful…and brave in how you responded to the situation,” she said, studying the trowel she still held in her hand. “I wanted others to know.”
Alicia risked a glance up and found him staring back with an indecipherable expression on his face.
“If you are not opposed,” Niall said suddenly, “I’d rather we stay in tonight. Together.”
Her mouth dropped open as she inhaled. “You would?”
His brows dipped low. “Of course. You’re my wife after all.”
She was…and Alicia was more than ready to be his wife, in all ways.
…
Niall found it impossible to tear his eyes away from his wife during dinner that night. As they dined on soup and potted beef, mushrooms and pudding, he was acutely aware of her.
Alicia.
The spouse he sought to exile but who had saved him instead.
Raising his glass of port to his lips for a bracing sip, Niall tracked her every movement as she savored her meal, humming in the back of her throat when she enjoyed a particular bite. Would she respond in a similar manner if he touched her? He gripped his glass like a vise until the arousing thought fled. Such thoughts and images had plagued him as of late.
When their meal was complete, Alicia stood and smoothed down the folds of her blue gown. She looked lovely. Sophisticated. Just that morning he had found her in the gardens, sitting in a patch of sunlight, dirt coating her elegant hands, and an ugly worn apron swallowing her form. She’d appeared so young. Innocent.
Both Alicias enchanted him.
“I thought that instead of retiring to the drawing room, we might enjoy the terrace. The weather is so pleasant this time of year.” Her burnt umber eyes met his, leaving him stunned, like a dizzying upper cut to the jaw. “Would you care to join me?”
He would. Very much.
But he didn’t voice such thoughts, simply inclining his head instead.
Trailing behind her, Niall thought of the stack of reports waiting on his desk. Of the pile of correspondence and the ledgers he’d yet to review. With his gaze on his wife’s gently swaying hips, he decided those items could wait a bit longer.
On the terrace, they sat quietly for a time while crickets and the rustle of birds in their nests in the trees above serenaded them.
“Are you looking forward to returning to the hustle at Westminster?”
Her voice was soft, blending effortlessly into the intimacy of the moment.
“I am.” Niall grasped his glass of whisky, ignoring how his stomach dropped at the idea of returning to his busy schedule. His work used to fulfill him…but now the long hours spent in his small office at Westminster simply meant less time to visit the children at the home and late nights returning home to his wife. Going back to that harrowing routine left him feeling decidedly empty.
“It’s going to be quieter in the house without you and your fellows MPs discussing and debating in the study at all hours.”
His forehead crinkled. “Has the constant activity been taxing?”
Her laugh dispelled his concern. “Of course not. On the contrary, it’s provided me with a firsthand glimpse into the true workings of Parliament.”
“Don’t sell that information to the chapbooks writer.”
Alicia went still, her glass of wine suspended in the air in front of her face. It was the first time he had mentioned the anonymous writer since the favorable treatise circulated before he’d fallen ill.
Placing her glass down with a clink, Alicia linked her hands together in her lap. “I-I would never dream to do such a thing. Why would you say that?”
Of course she wouldn’t. She’d been caring for him and bolstering his public image, not to mention seeing to the staff and ensuring everything was well at Little Windmill.
Shame heated his cheeks for even suggesting such a thing, even in jest.
Perhaps sensing his discomfort, his wife adroitly changed the subject. “One thing I miss about living in the country is all the stars visible in the sky.”
Alicia tipped her head back, and Niall mimicked her actions. Only pinpricks of light managed to peek through the cloud of coal smoke and dust that hung over the city, emphasizing her point. Niall’s eyes swept across the dark expanse. When was the last time he’d bothered to look up at the sky?
“Jane and I would sometimes spread a blanket out on the lawn at the Lindsay estate and try to count the stars. Trace constellations with our fingertips.” From the corner of his eye, Niall saw her turn to look at him. “I can only imagine how beautiful such things would look in the Highland skies.”
A lump lodged in his throat, and it took Niall an extended moment to swallow it down. “The midnight sky would proudly unfurl all the heavens for display. It was a special night when the Mirrie Dancers made an appearance.”
“Faith,” she whispered. “I would love to see that.”
An ache spread under his ribs as he remembered standing along the parapet at Loch Kilmorow with his mother and sisters, oohing and ahing over the colorful, otherworldly spectacle. Everything seemed so magical then. “I’ll take you to see them one day.”
She flashed him a smile. “When’s the last time you were there?”
Forever, his heart rasped. “More than a dozen years.”
That confession tasted vile on his tongue. He’d once thought it would be impossible to leave the beauty of Loch Kilmorow…yet his time away from home, with its sparkling loch and heather-covered hills, felt like a thousand years.
“Why have you been away so long?”
Alicia’s question was a whisper, yet it echoed through his chest.
“My father and I do not get along. As much as I respect him, we argued frequently over all matter of things, but especially the different futures we envisioned for the Campbell clan. After my mother died, our animosity grew, and when I chose to attend Cambridge instead of St. Andrews, it incensed him. Eventually it became easier not to return at all.”
A silence filled the air between them, and Niall crossed his arms over his chest and inhaled until his lungs felt full to bursting. Thoughts of his father, the man he loved so fiercely and yet who seemed determined to misunderstand him and his motivations so acutely, always left him bereft.
“After so many years apart, I’d wager your father no longer cares about the disagreements that drove you away,” she murmured into the emptiness.
“You haven’t met him,” he grumbled.
“No…but I’d like to. One day.”
The earnest note in her voice made him clench his eyes closed.
And one day…maybe…she would.
Later that night, Niall stood outside the door connecting their chambers, his hand resting on the wood. The texture of the grain under his fingertips tethered him to the moment.
Did he dare knock? He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in his wife. In Alicia. He longed to run his hands over her skin and taste her lips with his own. He ached to thrust into her warm, welcoming body until all the reasons he had told himself to stay away from her were incinerated by their passions.
But he hadn’t yet apologized for his past reticence, and that oversight halted his hand.
Stepping back, Niall bit back a groan of frustration and prowled away, resigning himself to his empty, cold bed.