XVI | Birth Day

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When Aliya said that they did not have to marry soon, St. Vincent was baffled.

"And you wish me to say to anyone curious that you are staying in my villa as my mother's guest," he droned, turning to Jason who met his gaze. "Did you hear that, Jason?"

"Yes, Doctor, I did."

"And will you report that to my mother?" he asked. "The part about Aliya wishing to delay the wedding?"

"Lady Aliya has asked that I do not mention it," the butler replied.

"And he complied," Aliya said with a smile. "I owe you, Jason. Thank you very much."

"It is my duty to serve you, my lady, as a future member of the family."

St. Vincent blinked at Jason with incredulity. He downed his glass of brandy, cleared his throat, and leaned his elbows on his thighs, his fingers clasped together as he stared at Aliya. "Ali, I am a very patient man."

"I can very well see that, Ollie," she said with a smile, her eyes on his hands. She met his gaze and blinked innocently. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

"My problem is that I need some answers."

With a sigh, Aliya turned to Jason. The man bowed and soundlessly left the parlor. "Your first question, of course, is why we cannot marry sooner."

"Yes," he spoke in a mockingly patient tone, showing his suspicion by squinting one eye.

"Belcourt will be watching my every move, Ollie."

"Why?"

"They suspect anyone that is not from Belcourt. I am now amongst those people."

He did not say anything and simply nodded.

"And your next question is why I said yes to marrying you."

He grinned. "We are not yet married and you can now read my mind."

Ignoring his quip, Aliya looked into his eyes. "Ollie," she started seriously, "You may not admit it now and I will not force it out of you, but I strongly believe that you are part of the Circus." He pursed his lips and nodded at her, listening to her every word. "And if you are not, I still believe that you have connections to the Circus."

"Supposing you are correct—and you cannot tell anyone that I admitted to anything—" he sternly added with one finger in the air, "supposing that you are correct and I am part of the Circus—or has connections to anyone in the said club—why would you want that? What advantage is there for you?"

She smiled. "You and the Circus will be my security."

"From what?"

"I have my reasons," she said, tearing her gaze from his. "Secrets I cannot share with you for now."

She stole him a glance when he let out a long sigh. "Ali," he began, obviously trying to be patient, "I told you I am willing to wait another fourteen years for your secrets, but please do answer one thing for me."

When her eyes returned to him, his hazel ones were no longer the foxed Ollie she was used to, but the serious Dr. St. Vincent that rarely showed himself. "Are you in any type of danger? Is your life on the line?"

She blinked for she heard the etch of anger and immense concern behind his words. "No. I mean, I am keeping my secrets not to protect myself, but the people I care for and that includes you, Ollie. I cannot allow Belcourt to make rash choices simply because they think I am working against them; and once they do start to think that way, they will suspect everyone I am involved with, and given our relationship, you will be one of the people they will be interested in."

He looked at her for a long time, the air around him grave and dangerous. Aliya was unsure if she wanted to see more of this side of him. Finally, he sighed, and in a blink, her Ollie was back. He leaned against his chair and rolled his eyes in frustration. "You make a good point that I hate it."

Her lips stretched into a smile. "I am glad that you understand."

"I could say that I do not care if I get involved, but I do have to think about my family. They almost did not cross my mind. And Jason. Good Lord, how will he ever survive an attack from Belcourt? If they get their hands on my perfect butler, he will give them thorough and specific details about the St. Vincents. We cannot let that happen."

Aliya's laughter echoed in the parlor. "Stop it, Ollie." She stood to her feet and reached for his hand. "I have been living in your villa for three days now and you are yet to prove to me that Jason is less than loyal." He stood and towered over her. "We have to be very careful, Ollie. Belcourt suspects you, Sasha most of all."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. "My lady, I am Oliver St. Vincent. Even my mother is unsure of what breed of animal I am from. Belcourt can suspect and investigate me all they want, but they will never prove anything."

She grinned, "Then I am glad you chose me," she said, rising to her toes to kiss his lips. His mouth followed hers when she stepped back and they shared a laughing kiss before it turned hungry and hot.

With a groan, St. Vincent withdrew and stumbled back. "Wedding first, woman."

Aliya snorted and turned to the door. "People know that I am staying here as your mother's guest, yes?"

"Yes."

"And that we are dear friends."

"Yes."

"And dear friends can go out together to the park?"

"Of course. Have we not been doing that for the last three days? Nothing but that, as a matter of fact."

She turned to face him. "Then I wish to go to Birth."

He blinked. "Birth?"

She nodded. "But we cannot stay in the same villa. We must find something—"

"My father owns a villa in Birth."

"He does? Then why did you stay—"

"You insisted that I stay in Hartcaster's villa and I obliged." He continued to frown at her. "But why do you wish to go to Birth?"

"To celebrate my birthday with a friend, of course."

His eyes rounded in surprise. "Good God, you are getting old, Ali."

She rushed toward him and he laughingly stepped to the side to escape her attack. In three big steps, he reached the door and flung it open. "Jason! Pack my clothes and have a maid help Ali with hers!"

*****

Two days later, Aliya and Oliver were in Birth, in his father's villa.

She went straight to the beach and watched the waves, and Oliver went to join her. It was quite chilly, but it was bearable.

"You have very little hair for the wind to blow," she said, turning her head to look up at him.

He playfully grabbed her to his side. "I might start thinking that you said yes to marrying me to see my hair grow back again."

"That may be one of the reasons."

He smiled. "So, there are more reasons why you agreed to the marriage?"

"Of course. Why would you think I would marry you just to be close to the Circus? If I wanted only that, Ollie, I could just go straight to West Blackwood who I am certain is a member."

"He is a rather dry man."

"And you can be obnoxious."

"Quite true, but you would not enjoy a dry man."

She grinned and looked back at the ocean before them. "No, I would not."

He kissed the top of her head and murmured, "Happy birthday, Ali."

"Thank you," she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"The wind is feeding me with your hair," he said, stepping away from her. "Let us go back inside. We can dine later on the balcony if you wish."

She wordlessly allowed him to lead her back to the villa and while he did, Oliver could not help but wonder if she was feeling all right. She had been under Belcourt's control for ten years. Freedom must be new to her.

"I have to change," she said, letting go of his hand.

He watched her climb up the stairs.

The Royal Circus would not find his impending marriage to a former Belle thrilling.

They would think he was insane.

But then, Oliver St. Vincent had always been insane.

*****

After a simple dinner at the balcony, they decided to take another stroll by the beach. The sun was setting and the sand was cold under their bare feet.

Aliya felt like she was living someone else's life. Her hand was being held by a man who was not a gentleman of Belcourt. She was having a conversation about the most trivial of things, and she was thinking of how her wedding would be like.

It felt odd. She should be ecstatic, but she was not. Her reality still hovered above her despite her freedom.

St. Vincent was right. She was not free of Belcourt until her Vow was redeemed. And she feared that Vow would be her next nightmare. It would haunt her waking hours, torment her nights.

Had there been another way, she would have already taken it. But this was her reality. She simply had to face the fact that Belcourt had the upper hand. And it would continue to do so until she was done with her Vow.

Or if Belcourt was destroyed.

"What if the secrets we keep from each other become a hindrance in the future?" St. Vincent asked, squeezing her hand.

Aliya tucked her hair behind one ear. "Then we have to be wise. We have to discuss them."

"And what if they start to create the problem?"

"I am quite certain that we will recognize it when that happens. For now, I simply cannot share everything with you, Ollie. I do not know how you fair with torture."

He burst out laughing. "You are quite right. One look from my mother and I spill everything."

She stopped walking and faced him. "Ollie, what do we tell your mother?"

"That she is to be a mother-in-law, of course."

"I am serious."

"And so am I. She does not need explanations, Ali. She is a very perceptive woman."

"And your father?"

He grinned. "You will know once you meet the man."

"And your sister?"

"I do not have one."

"You said you do."

"Ah, that woman who came from my mother's womb?"

She snorted. "Ollie, I am serious."

"One thing you have to know about Ellise is that she is a bloody mirror."

"A what?"

"Talking to her is like talking to a mirror—cold and brutally honest."

"Would you say that I should be extra wary of her than I should around your mother?"

"I say that you treat her like you would a mirror. You stare at her and talk, but only if you have to. Then you turn your back and leave after you are done."

"Surely she is not that—"

"She is."

Aliya sighed. "Sometimes it frustrates me that I cannot tell if you are speaking the truth or not."

"Fret not," he said, "I will very rarely lie to you."

"That does not sound reassuring."

"So does your decision that we keep to our secrets. But for future reference, if you do discover I am lying, it is mostly because I am trying to protect you, or I am simply being a fool—to which you can respond harshly."

She shrugged. "Fair."

He looked into her eyes and bent down to kiss her. "You taste like sherry."

"I sure hope that you are talking about the drink and not a woman's name, Ollie," she murmured against his mouth.

He grinned. "I had a patient named sherry."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I am not interested," she snapped, angling her head to the right, opening wide for his hungry onslaught. Soon, sherry, both the drink and the patient, was forgotten.

And soon, she found herself on the sand with St. Vincent on top of her, his hand under the skirts of her dress.

"No one will see us here," she rasped in his ear, gasping as his hand slipped into her drawers.

"Yes, but we cannot do it now," he said with a groan against her throat. The rough bristles on his jaw heightened her senses.

"Of course, we can," she whimpered, moving against his hand.

And all of a sudden, he stilled. He leaned away and looked down at her with a grin. "No."

Her hand desperately searched for his breeches and he jumped away from her with a laugh. "You are one dangerous woman, Aliya," he said, scrambling to his feet. He pulled her up in one swift motion and righted her dress. Kissing the scowl off her face, he said, "Wedding first, darling. And then I am all yours."

Aliya rolled her eyes. Brushing his hand off, she walked away.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a chuckle.

"To get a cold bath!" she furiously shouted over her shoulder.

*****

"Not until the wedding," Aliya sleepily groaned the next day. She was staring blankly at the curtains from across her bed. She had thought Birth would do the trick and yet here she was, alone in a bloody bedchamber while St. Vincent was at the other end of the villa.

She rolled out of bed and dressed.

He was already breaking his fast when she arrived. Her eyes went straight to the glass of brandy beside his plate. Making no comment, she settled in the chair to his left.

"How was your sleep?"

"Utterly still," she replied as the servant served her a plate of eggs and rolls. He looked quite fresh. His hair was disheveled as it naturally was, the bristles on his chin shorter—he shaved again—and the white shirt seemed ironed. She looked down and realized her dress was a mess and her hair, she was certain, was far from perfect. "I slept without my nightdress," she could not help but say. He choked on his food. "Under the covers," she added, enjoying the dark look in his eyes. And finally, giving him the sweetest smile, Aliya whispered, "I will still be in the same state of undress later tonight."

"Ali," he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, grabbed his brandy, and took a big gulp. He swallowed hard. "Ali," he repeated, taking her hand over the table, "I have the best restrain amongst the male species all over Sutherland. What you are trying to do is not working."

"Why do I feel that I should be insulted by that statement?" she asked.

He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her lips. "You are hard to resist, darling, but I have made my vow. I will not copulate with you until you are wearing a ring."

"Copulate—can you use a different word?"

"Which one? Mate? Sex? Fornicate?"

She blinked. "Mind not, I shall pretend that you said the words make love."

"Ah," he grinned. "You are a romantic."

"And you are not?"

"Do you want me to be?"

Again, Aliya blinked and let out a helpless sigh. "Just be Ollie."

*****

That afternoon, Oliver took Aliya to the small town in Birth.

With no one to recognize them, they enjoyed their stroll. She walked into a shop that sold trinkets and refused to come out.

"I will be at the bookshop next door," he told her as she frowned down at a round pendant. "Ali," he prodded.

"Yes, yes," she murmured.

Oliver rolled his eyes and glared at the owner. "This is witchcraft," he told her. "You enchant women!"

The woman just laughed as he walked out. He entered the shop merely a few paces away and looked through the selection, aisle by aisle, picking a book now and then only to realize he had read it. Quickly losing interest, Oliver went to grab a copy of the Sutherland Post and perused it with very little attention.

He was reading the current bills being fought over in parliament when Aliya found him. "What are you reading?" she asked. He showed her and she turned around with disinterest. He blindly followed her as she walked down one aisle.

"Did you procure anything?" he asked, flipping a page.

"No. That shop was selling odd things." She turned to face him, walking backward. He looked up and instantly recognized the wicked smile on her face. He looked over both shoulders and narrowed his eyes at her. "What?" she asked, batting her innocent eyes.

He shook his head and she chuckled. She walked toward him and Oliver stepped back. "No, Ali, are you bloody crazy!" he hissed when she caught his arm.

"Just one," she whispered, pulling his coat. "I have always wanted to do this."

He looked around. "You mean this is one of your fantasies?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the far corner of the shop.

"Yes, of course," she said, pulling him behind the shelf, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I think I am marrying a wanton," he growled against her mouth, pressing her against the wall. He wrapped his arms around her, his one hand still holding the paper. She tasted like how he remembered and he did not want it to change. They stilled when they heard the door open. And then a man's voice started talking with the shop owner and Aliya's mouth was back on him, hungry and almost angry. If this was his punishment for last night, he was gladly suffering.

"Stop, stop, darling, Ali—stop," he murmured, pulling away from her. When she scowled, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Should I remind you that it was you who wanted to delay the wedding?"

"Yes, but we can—"

"And you know that I will not touch you until we are wed," he sternly reminded her. Stealing a kiss, he chuckled and turned around.

His laughter rumbled in his chest when he heard her loud sigh. Pretending to have not been unnerved by the kiss, he opened the paper again.

And then he froze.

She came to stand beside him when he hissed, "Ali!"

"What now?" she asked.

He showed her the paper. She read and snatched it from his hands.

Her eyes widened. And then she groaned.

Assessing her reaction, he carefully said, "Should I remind you that it was your idea to stay in my villa? And coming to Birth also happened to be your wish—"

She covered his mouth with her hand to stop his words. "I know," she groaned.

He chuckled, snatching the paper from her. "Ali, you just made your first scandal."

"It is not a scandal. It is gossip."

"It will sprout as a scandal soon." He read the page again. "However did they know you have been living in the villa?"

"We did not truly make it a secret," she groaned.

"And Birth? How did they know about—"

"I care not," she said, walking past him. "We might as well marry the soonest we can."

"You are jesting, or are you serious?"

"I am saying that your mother will soon find out, Ollie. And I know what she will do."

"Are you angry?"

"No, not really," she said, walking out of the shop.

Oliver hastily paid for the paper and found Aliya waiting outside. She was frowning.

"Honestly, I wanted to point out that however long or short our betrothal is, Belcourt will still eventually know that we are married. We might as well not give them the chance to do anything because I will not have a tragic ending with you, Ali."

She snorted. "Why would you think we will have a tragic ending?"

He blinked. "Well, I have heard about Sasha and the Duke of Eaton."

"Of course, you heard about it," she droned, rolling her eyes. Then she fixed her gaze on him. "I am not Sasha, Ollie."

"I know."

"My loyalty lies somewhere else."

The statement was skeptical, but he would have it. "That is good to know."

"And when we are married, my loyalty will belong to you as well."

He grinned and grabbed her hand to steal a chaste kiss. "Perhaps we can stay here for the rest of the week. How would you like that? We can let the gossip die a little."

For the next two days, Aliya and Oliver did not leave the villa.

He would go on a run in the morning while she would read books or make an accounting of her money as she would call it.

In the afternoon, they would take a walk by the beach. By evening, she would try to seduce him again and fail.

But on the morning of their fourth day in Birth, they were awakened by a loud, rowdy voice from down the hall.

Cursing

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