Chapter 6
THE NEXT DAY…
Archie strolled the cobblestone streets of Rivenhall as he considered how to convince Gertie to go for a picnic with him.
Others might find the unseasonably warm December still too cool to dine al fresco, but he could well remember Gertie’s love of the outdoors—particularly fall-like weather.
And he wanted to remind her of those shared moments outdoors.
He wanted to court her, to remind her how good they were together.
Well, remind her further. He grinned.
Certainly, they were older, but the core of what they had shared remained. He felt the same connection to her he had always felt when they were younger. It had made her unexpected marriage still so difficult for him to understand.
He still had questions about that decision. What had happened after he’d left? But those answers would come in time, and with a rekindling of the trust they’d once shared.
He simply needed to convince Gertie to give them a chance.
Archie was still considering what he wanted to say to her when he stepped inside the bakery.
Gertie was not in the shop—or at least, she didn’t appear to be—but her son was.
Well, he assumed he was her son. She hadn’t actually said he was, though the man had called her ‘mum’, so it was an easy extrapolation.
He only half-remembered the young man from his first visit to the bakery as he had been so focused on Gertie.
But now as he truly looked at him, Archie had to wonder what his father had looked like.
The young man clearly resembled Gertie, yet he wore glasses whereas she had perfect eyesight. Had his father worn glasses?
Before he could get caught up in his own speculation, the young man greeted him. “Oh it’s you again, my mother's friend. I'm afraid she's out at present. Is there something I can help you with?”
Archie hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say. Finally, he managed to gather his thoughts after a bit of an awkward pause. “I actually came to see your mother, but I wouldn't mind taking a pastry or two with me. What do you suggest? Sam, was it?”
The young man grunted, his face stony with disapproval. “Yes, Samuel Sutton. I don't think I caught your name the other day.”
While young Sam wasn't precisely rude; he certainly wasn't warm and welcoming.
Clearly, he had decided Archie was some kind of threat to his mother.
The question, was how did one go about assuring the man he was no threat—without revealing more than Gertie would most likely prefer for him to share with her son?
Archie decided on the truth. Most of it. “My name is Archibald Goodman, the new headmaster for the school. I grew up here in Rivenhall with your mother.”
The silence stretched as Sam seemed to consider his words.
Finally, the young man nodded as though accepting Archie's explanation of who he was and how he knew his mother.
The coldness of the man's demeanor thawed ever so slightly as he stepped up behind the counter.
“We have some raspberry pastries fresh from the oven and my mother makes an excellent sticky bun since you're wanting something on the sweeter side.”
Archie's stomach rumbled in the silence, reminding him he'd missed breakfast because of his twisting stomach—all because he couldn’t stop thinking about Gertie. “I'll take one of each, thank you.”
Sam began packaging the two buns. “So you knew my mum before she met my father?”
Archie inhaled softly, but smiled as he remembered the Gertie he'd left behind. “Indeed, she and I were great friends before I left to get my teaching certificate. I believe she married your father not long after I left for school.”
Oh. Oh dear God.
For the first time since his return, Archie considered the timeline of Gertie’s marriage…and the apparent age of the young man standing before him, holding out a package of buns.
Sam cleared his throat. “Are you all right, Mr. Goodman?”
Archie blinked and looked closer at Sam as he took the package of buns. “Yes. Yes, I'm quite all right, thank you. I think missing my breakfast has finally caught up with me.”
Sam flashed a quick smile. “Well, I imagine you have just what you need to remedy that situation. My mother bakes them, but my father's recipes—may he rest in peace—are the best in the county.”
Archie opened the warm package that held the raspberry pastry and took a bite.
The tangy sweetness of the raspberry mingled with the glaze on top and melted in his mouth.
He chewed slowly, savoring the flavors as he tried to consider how best to respond considering the whirlwind of thoughts raging through his mind.
But before he could get any words out, the back door of the bakery opened and Gertie walked in.
“I swear Mrs. Appleton's more difficult every day. You'd think the queen herself was coming to stay at her home for—” Gertie pulled up short as she spotted him standing there. “Archie, what are you doing here?”
He swallowed the quickly drying pastry in his mouth, almost without choking. He cleared his throat and swallowed to clear the last of the bread. “I came to see you but was lucky enough to discover your wonderful raspberry pastries as recommended by your son.”
Gertie looked from Archie to Sam then back to Archie, as though she could decipher what they'd been discussing. “I can take over from here, Sam. Perhaps you'll take the Johnsons their bread order?”
It was stated as a request, but Archie could hear the motherly order behind it. She wanted her son gone while they spoke.
Sam glanced at his mother and back at Archie, his eyes narrowing as he stared. The suspicion was back, much to Archie's dismay. “Sure, Mum, I won't be long.” He walked toward the back door and picked up a basket loaded with bread. “I'm sure I'll see you again soon, Mr. Goodman.”
As the door closed behind the young man, Gertie turned to Archie in annoyance. “I believe I told you the last time you were here that you were not to come back to the bakery.”
Taken aback by the harshness of her words after what they'd shared together the day before, Archie blinked as he tried to find an appropriate response.
“My apologies, I—well, I suppose I assumed after what we shared yesterday that such an edict no longer stood. I came hoping to convince you to have a picnic lunch with me today before the weather turns. But it sounds as though you want nothing to do with me—beyond the services I was able to render yesterday.”
Gertie sighed softly and cursed. “Damn it. I'm sorry, I'm always getting things wrong when it comes to us. I do want to see you again, I just…had hoped you might stay away from the bakery to avoid tongues wagging around town.”
“I don’t believe I understand. What do you mean by tongues wagging? Did I leave a poor impression on Rivenhall when I left?” His brows furrowed together in confusion.
“What?” Now Gertie appeared as confused as he felt.
“I’d have to have left behind a poor reputation if merely being seen with me might be cause for concern for your reputation.” Archie stared at her pointedly.
Heat dusted her cheeks as her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
“Oh, Archie. No. You see, the problem isn’t you—it’s me.
Or more accurately, Papa. You know he was the town drunk for so long that many people only see him as that, despite the fact he has been sober for nearly fifteen years.
” She hesitated, clearly not wishing to raise a topic, yet finding it hard to explain her concern.
“That and the way I cavorted about as a girl…well let’s just say some of the towns sticklers have long memories.
Since my son was born I have sought to uphold a spotless reputation for his sake.
I’ve worked very hard at it, and do not wish to do anything that might damage all the good I’ve done. ”
“And being seen with me could damage your mended reputation?” Archie couldn’t follow her reasoning, nor was he convinced by it.
“Being seen with any man would, I fear,” she replied, so softly he almost didn’t hear her as a carriage rattled past the bakery.
“If so, how are you to ever remarry? Find happiness with another?” The earnestness of Archie’s query caught him off guard. How had he arrived at marriage so quickly? They’d only reconnected a few days ago.
“Remarry? Why would I do that? Sam and I have run the bakery just fine on our own, I have no need to remarry. What makes you believe I might be interested in doing such a thing?”
He growled softly and took a step closer to her. “Because I was inside you yesterday?” So deep inside you, the ice around my heart might have cracked. But he certainly would not tell the skittish woman that truth. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with it himself.
The ruddiness of Gertie’s cheeks fled like a flock of birds startled by a gunshot. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her nearly as pale as flour. “You shouldn’t say such things.” She took a hesitant step back.
No. Archie wanted to yell out that she was not allowed to retreat from him once again. “Why not? It’s the truth.” He took a step closer, then another until he crowded her against the counter. “And I will tell you, I very much hope to repeat the event again soon.”
Gertie gasped as she pressed a hand to his chest and stared up at him.
This woman made him so…so irrational. Something about her drove him to behave in the most possessive, caveman-esque manner. It was unsettling. Exhilarating. He needed more.
And he was going to take more.
Archie leaned in and captured her lips with his.
At first she held as still as a startled deer, then he swept past her lips and drove into the heat of her mouth.
As he slid his tongue over hers, she melted into him with a moan.
His arms were filled with a warm, willing woman once again, and his cock stirred—but he was not so far gone that he didn’t realize that making love to Gertrude in the front of her bakery was a poor decision for both their sakes.
After all, he had a reputation of his own to uphold, as the headteacher of the school.
Reining in his desire, he eased back from their kiss slowly, giving Gertie a chance to gather her wits about her. “You muddle all rational thought when I’m around you.” His voice came out thick and rough, even to his own ears.
“I should say the same about you.” Gertie sidestepped out of his embrace and then suddenly she was behind the counter, placing a solid plank of oak between them. She patted her hair and tried to smile.
Trying to calm his breathing, ignoring his frantic pulse and throbbing loins, Archie tried to rally and get their conversation back on track. “So, a picnic this afternoon?”
Gertie bit her lip indecisively. “I don’t know if I should, based on that kiss.”
He resisted the urge to outright growl at her evasiveness. “I shall pick a spot where we shall not be seen—and if it makes it easier for you, we can meet just outside of town.”
She worried her lower lip for a moment between her teeth. “Very well. I shall meet you just past Papa’s cottage after midday.”
He grinned, joy leaping within him. “Excellent. I promise no one will notice us.” Not daring to tempt fate further, he turned on his heel and departed the bakery for fear she’d change her mind if he lingered.
And damn, he wanted to linger.
He had questions about when her son was born and when she got married—or perhaps, more importantly, why she chose to be married.
He didn’t believe it was a love match, as the Reverend Goodman had tried to suggest. No, he’d always known the Reverend disapproved of his relationship with Gertie, but Archie had turned a blind eye because he’d also believed that the man’s affinity for Christ would lead him to do the right thing.
Had he been wrong about that?
Or more accurately, how wrong about that had he been?