Read In Your Arms Again for Free Online

running his own operation. He had made quite a reputation for himself over the years. It didn’t surprise her, the degree of notoriety he had achieved. He’d always sworn he was going to change the world, and he was.
    He no doubt hated all the attention. He never had been one for wanting to be the focus of a crowd—that had been her vanity. Odd how life twisted and turned. Here she was, the one who loved attention, living a quiet life of little import. And there was North, who was so content to stay in the background, who couldn’t even leave his house without someone writing about it.
    Then again, at one time he would have been happy to see her in a crowd. He would have held out his arms for her to run into. He wouldn’t have shaken his head and pretended not to know her.
    Glancing around the room, at the cream and golds used to offset the warm pinks, Octavia wondered—and not for the first time—what her life would have been like if her grandfather hadn’t come for her, if she hadn’t discovered that she was actually the legitimate daughter of the deceased youngest son of the Earl Spinton. Would she have ended up with no one to answer to but herself? Or would she have ended up dependent on a string of “protectors” for her well-being?
    Such foolish thoughts were hardly worth entertaining. Itdid not matter what might have been. All that mattered was reality, and the reality was that her grandfather had come for her, and he made her into a lady and gave her everything a young girl dreams of, except for the freedom to live as she wanted.
    She was a bird in a cage—a gilt and pink cage, but a cage nonetheless. And she had entered it willingly. She promised her mother she would honor her memory by adhering to her wishes, and her mother wanted her to inherit her birthright. She made promises to her grandfather, out of gratitude and out of duty, and even though Mama and Grandpapa were both dead, Octavia was a woman of her word.
    It was just another one of her many flaws.
    She picked up a miniature watercolor tucked between two pages. Painted over a decade ago, it was of a grinning young man with pale blue eyes and unruly dark hair. Color bloomed high on his chiseled cheeks, and the painter had captured the mischief in his eyes. They’d each had a portrait done—Christmas gifts for each other. Did North still have the likeness of her? Did he ever look upon it?
    “Oh, Norrie,” she said with sigh. “I have missed you.”
    Several heartbeats passed as she stared at the tiny portrait, committing every detail to memory.
    “What are you looking at?”
    Shoving the watercolor between the pages once again, Octavia closed the book with a resounding snap. She forced a smile as Spinton entered the room. He was such a regular fixture in the house that the servants rarely bothered to announce him anymore. She was going to have to remedy that. The new earl he might be, but this was still her house. No doubt it was Spinton’s imperious attitude that kept it from feeling like a home.
    “Just some old keepsakes.”
    Her grandfather would no doubt have demanded to see it,but Spinton was nothing like his predecessor. He merely smiled and nodded and seated himself in the dainty chair across from her.
    He wanted to marry her, and they were alone. Wouldn’t a normal man take this time to press his suit? Sit beside her on this fish-hued sofa and perhaps sneak in a few kisses? Not Spinton. He would never take such risks, such liberties. Perhaps if he did Octavia might be a bit warmer to the idea of marrying him. Their other incompatibilities she could overlook, but a lack of passion? She had been raised among people of volatile temperament—passion was an absolute must.
    So was honor, so she would keep her promise to marry Spinton, but she just couldn’t bring herself to accept his proposal—not now.
    “Beatrice will be down shortly,” she informed him, if for no other reason than to break the silence that a few moments ago had