“My son is named Ilar and he is twelve years old.”
“It is all right, Olympia. I was but surprised. That was foolish of me for I knew you were a widow. We can talk of it some other time. You need not speak on it all right now.”
It was cowardly of her but she nodded, accepting the reprieve.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked.
“If it is possible.”
Considering how full the house was he knew that was all she could promise. The last thing he wanted was all the children in the house thinking badly of their saviors. They needed to see well-behaved people, ones with kindness and genteel behavior after all they had been through. Brant admitted he also did not wish to deal with Olympia’s nephews, Thomas, or her four very protective street urchins, either.
After several more kisses, Olympia watched him leave. The moment the door shut behind him, she fell back onto the bed and sighed. The fact that he had to slip away in the night, to avoid being seen by the others in the house, added the smallest of taints to what they had shared. She would not let that prey on her enjoyment, however, she told herself firmly, and quickly rose to wash up and don her nightgown.
Just as she was about to return to her bed, she thought of little Henry and went to her desk. The decision had been made to contact the boy’s father and she saw no reason to wait. It took awhile to compose the note to the marquis, however, as she needed to be very careful in her wording, careful enough that he could not know for certain that she had the boy just in case he was not a man she wished to give the child up to. She then found her book on the peerage and addressed it to his London house. Throwing on her robe she took it down to the small table in the hall knowing that Pawl would see to it the note was sent on its way before everyone woke.
Now that the chore was done, she realized it was why she had not immediately gone to bed and to sleep. Simply placing the message on the table to be delivered eased that nudge of conscience that had kept her from immediately returning to bed. Now her body was demanding she return to her bed, aches from all she had indulged in tonight beginning to make themselves known. Who knew lovemaking could be such a strenuous activity, she thought and smiled as she made her way back to her bed.
Even after she was snuggled beneath her covers, however, her eyes refused to close and she realized there was one more thing that preyed upon her mind, denying her the rest she needed. Her house was full of children who had suffered. There were so many she had to find a place for. It would not be easy. And then she thought of her very large family and smiled. It might not be so hard a problem to solve after all, she decided, and finally closed her eyes.
Brant lay on his back in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. His bed had never felt so empty. He wanted Olympia’s lush body curled up at his side but knew that was impossible at the moment. Her house was so crowded he could never be able to slip away in the morning unseen. Nor did he want to have to face all those boys as he stepped out of Olympia’s bedchamber. None of them were so blissfully innocent that they would not guess exactly what he had been up to.
He could still taste her on his mouth; still smell her on his skin. Their lovemaking had been swift and fierce, the desire that sparked between them a greedy thing. All the skill he should have gained over the last few years had disappeared the moment he had gotten her naked and in his arms.
The question that nagged at him, keeping him from immediately falling asleep, was why Olympia had taken him to her bed. She was a widow and those women were given some leeway. Many took a lover now and then. He had certainly enjoyed a few in his time.
Yet, Olympia had not done so, not once in all the years since she had become a widow. It puzzled him that she would suddenly become such a fiery lover in his arms. It also flattered him but he knew it would not be wise to revel in that too much. Her kisses told him she did desire him but he found himself wondering if it was the sort of desire that led to more.