Olivia studied at him for a moment. “I believe you will.”
Her statement of faith buoyed him. He’d had plenty of doubts the past weeks whether he could step into Henry’s shoes. Whether he had any business being the Earl of Rivenhall. Olivia gazed up at him, the velvety mink of her eyes tugged at his soul. If she believed in him, perhaps he could learn what he needed. Perhaps he could be the Earl of Rivenhall. He leaned down and kissed her. He kept it brief, aware his sisters were down at the other end of the room. Her lips were so soft as he brushed his mouth across hers, and even though he meant the kiss to be light, every inch of him craved more.
Olivia’s eyes widened, and he chuckled at her startled expression. He pointed up. “Mistletoe. I couldn’t resist.”
She tipped her head up. Then a wry smile quirked up one side of her mouth. “I see that I will have to watch out for you this Christmastide.”
Max shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and strove for an innocent expression. Luckily Olivia didn’t seem mad.
“I will go help your sisters with the ribbon garland,” she said.
Max watched her walk across the room, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips. He groaned under his breath. The rational part of his brain clanged a warning bell.She has hurt you before; she loved another!But when had he ever listened to that rational voice? Certainly not when he let his father convince him to join his underground business to sell stolen goods or when he had rushed into a fight in the marketplace to save a man he barely knew. No, he had made mistakes before and lived to tell the tale. He might get burned by Olivia, but what a way to die.
“It looks lovely in here.” His mother bustled into the room. “Very festive. Oh, girls those bows are exquisite. What a nice job you have done.” She untied her velvet bonnet and set it on a nearby table. “Max, I was looking for you.” His mother crossed the room toward him.
“Hello, Mother. Did you need something?” He bussed her cheek.
“I’ve just come from visiting Lady Dearborn. We had a lovely chat over tea. Come sit with me.”
He dutifully sat next to his mother on the settee.
“Lord Dearborn is quite influential in this county and well-loved for being a fair and a generous landlord. I think you could learn a great deal from him. They will be coming to dinner on Christmas Eve. I want you to make an effort to speak with him and gain his counsel.”
Ah, Mother was already gaining the lay of the political ground. He nodded, sensing that his mother was just winding up to her actual point.
“They always go to town for the season. Their daughter is of marriageable age, and Lady Dearborn has been beside herself, trying to find her a good match. Apparently, she is quite a spiritedjeune fille. Perhaps Lady Susanna would make a great candidate for you to consider for a wife.”
A clatter came from across the room. Max saw Olivia bend over to retrieve a pair of scissors that had fallen to the floor. His mother called out, “Olivia dear, you are friends with Lady Susanna, correct?”
“Yes, she is part of my book club.”
“Excellent. Will you make sure to introduce her to Max on Christmas Eve? I find that introductions are more meaningful when something personal for each party can be imparted. It gives them a common topic to begin their conversation. Don’t you think so?”
“Mother, I don’t—”
“No protests, please. You and Genevieve are each in need of a spouse. This is the year I will get you both appropriately married. And I don’t want to hear any impertinence from either of you.” She leaned over and patted his hand. “It’s just an introduction. Don’t worry; she is beautiful.” At that, his mother rose and gathered her bonnet and gloves. “I’ll see you all at dinner.”
Once she had left the room, Louisa hooted with laughter. “Looks like you both are on the chopping block.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “At least she hasn’t got someone lined up for me already.”
Max strode across the room. “I have no intention of letting Mother choose a wife for me.” He tried to catch Olivia’s eye, but she was intently snipping a length of red ribbon. He rubbed the back of his neck.Thank you, Mother.Deciding retreat was the best strategy to avoid having this conversation in front of Olivia, he executed a small bow. “Please excuse me, ladies.” Then he turned and exited the room. He had more mistletoe to hang.
Chapter Twenty-One
Olivia startled asan arm snaked around her waist from behind. “Happy Christmas,” Max murmured in her ear, sending a shiver of awareness through her.
She twisted around. “Max, you scared the living daylights out of me!”
“Sorry.” He leaned in to press his mouth softly against hers.
The slow caress of his lips was as intoxicating as a fine wine. She sighed when he pulled back. “Max, you have to stop kissing me whenever you want.”
His hand still at her waist roamed up her back, spreading warmth as it trailed upward. “Why?”
“You know why.” She frowned. “It’s entirely inappropriate. Your mother is trying to match you with a wife, for goodness’ sake.”
“First of all, my mother can try all she wants, but I will be choosing my own wife. And second, if you want me to stop kissing you, you should stop standing under the mistletoe.”