Chapter 13 #3
Kyra slowly slid her arms around him, reveling in the feel of his lithe muscles and broad back.
“Nothing is so bleak as you describe if you do not try to face it alone,” he added.
Trust. That word again, its echo rising up to taunt and torment her. Or maybe it was the demons in her head who were the tormentors. Might it truly be possible to silence them?
“You may be horrified,” she said in a small voice. “You see, before I share with you the details of Matherton’s demand, I must first tell you the whole truth about me.”
“Never.” He drew her even closer, wrapping her in his strength and support.
The words seemed to make the decision for her—they simply spilled out of their own accord. “As I told you, I’m guilty of sins of the flesh. That’s shameful enough, but it is even more sordid. I enjoyed it.”
His hold remained unflinchingly strong and steady. “You think that shameful?”
“Only wicked and wanton females take pleasure in such intimacies,” she admitted.
“What utter fustian.” He shifted, and all at once his palms were framing her face. “There is nothing more beautiful and joyful than two people sharing delight in both body and soul. Love is expressed most fully through every essence of our being.”
She felt as if a ray of sunlight had suddenly pierced the iron-gray clouds shrouding her spirits.
“I assure you, querida, any man worth his salt would wish for his lady to equally enjoy the act of love.”
“Y-you make it sound sublime, rather than sordid.”
“It is,” replied Rafael. “With the right person, and with all the right reasons.”
“I . . .” Kyra looked up to find his lips were only a hairsbreadth away from hers. She lifted her chin.
Flesh touched flesh in a gossamer-soft kiss.
In another heartbeat . . .
Woof. Nosing open the door, Hero burst into the room, a waggling blur of shaggy fur and flailing paws. Woof, woof.
“Ah, here you are, my dear.” The duke followed at a more dignified pace. He cleared his throat with a brusque cough. “Forgive me. I thought your guests had departed.”
Jumping back with a flustered hop, Kyra tugged her skirts free of the hound’s playful nips. “Mr. Greeley remained behind to give his opinion on my sketches for the flower arrangements. He is very knowledgeable about botany.”
“You are a cleverer fellow than I am,” said her father, directing a friendly nod at Rafael. “Can’t tell a peony from a petunia.”
“He can even discern the difference between the new China roses and our traditional English varieties,” added Kyra, hoping her voice didn’t sound too brittle.
“Just don’t ask me about lilies,” said Rafael dryly.
The duke laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” After a glance at the mantel clock, he added, “The hour is growing late, sir. You are very welcome to stay for supper.”
“That is most kind of you, Your Grace, but I had best be returning to Hendrie Hall.”
“Shall I summon one of the carriages?”
“Please don’t trouble yourself, sir. The walking does me good. I shall just let myself out through the French doors here and be on my way.” He bowed to the duke, and then to her. The smile that curled on his mouth as their eyes met for an instant sent a shiver dancing down her spine.
“A rare fellow,” her father said as he watched Rafael cross the terrace and descend to the graveled walkway leading down to the lake, followed by a frolicking Hero. “He seems to be a man of unusual interests.”
“Indeed,” she said, still savoring the all-too-fleeting kiss—and yearning for more.
As Kyra turned to retie the ribbons of her portfolio and put it away, she caught his searching look. For the first time in ages, she didn’t shy away. “He is, without question, quite unique.”
“Ungrateful mutt—you are in danger of being sent back to Seven Dials,” scolded Rafael, shooting a black look at the capering hound.
On hearing the words, Hero bounded over and licked his hand.
“Oh, very well, you are forgiven.” Laughing, he tweaked the plumed tail. “I suppose it’s just as well the duke did not find me with his daughter in my arms. When I make my proposal, I would prefer not to be staring down the barrel of a pistol.”
Lengthening his stride, he rounded the marble folly overlooking the sun-dappled lake.
A light breeze ruffled through his hair, bringing with it the chirping of the crickets and the fluttery cooing of a nearby dove.
Butterflies flitted through the tangle of wild roses crowning the old stone wall, setting off bright flashes of yellow and gold against the deep pinks and greens.
Life is beautiful, he thought, lifting his face to the heavens. Just months ago, the world had seemed a grimly gray place, leached of all color. Love wielded a magical brush, painting the world in a palette of hope and joy.
“Love.” He whispered it softly, then shouted it aloud, laughing softly as the echo reverberated through the trees.
Hero look back and cocked his shaggy head.
“Yes, yes, I’m a besotted fool.” He grinned. “But I have good reason to celebrate.”
The hound gave an encouraging woof.
Rafael couldn’t help but share his elation.
“I know I can trust in your discretion, amigo. We are allies, you and I, in the fight to win my lady’s heart.
And we have achieved a great victory today.
For you see, up until now, I was battling an unknown enemy.
Now that I know what I am up against, the fight becomes infinitely easier.
I will of course need to know the specific threat Matherton is making.
But I have every confidence that happen very soon. ”
That Kyra thought herself wicked and wanton for feeling desire still had him reeling.
He shook his head in consternation, realizing yet again how ladies were confined within a very rigid cage of rules.
A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless. It was no wonder that anyone with imagination and curiosity felt compelled to break free of the bars.
Sympathy quickly gave way to a more primitive emotion. That she felt desire sent a clench through his own body. “Mark my words, amigo,” he said to his companion. “I will vanquish the last of her fears and win her hand in time to dance the midnight waltz at the upcoming ball.”