Chapter Thirteen #3
While Victoria’s hands and fingers were measured by the shopkeeper so a template could be made, Rafe examined a display of buttons and examples of embroidery one might request to have added to his or her order. It was then that an all-too-familiar tittering reached his ears.
A trio of young women was eyeing him from across the length of the display, fluttering lashes and whispering in one another’s ears.
Coy tilts to their heads and practiced nibbling of lower lips were designed to entice, but they only made him feel a wash of weariness.
This display was something he had grown used to over the years—especially after he’d begun garnering a reputation as a charming rake and a fantastic, generous lover.
Even women who were afraid he would corrupt them simply by casting a smoldering glance their way were drawn to his magnetic smile and personality.
“Does that happen quite a lot?” Victoria had come up beside him and blatantly gestured to his admirers.
“It does,” he replied without conceit and adjusted the ribbon on her bonnet for her.
She glanced at the women and then looked back at him once more. “Why?”
He smiled, careful that it was not one she could interpret as condescending. “You do not place much credence in rumors and reputations, do you?”
“If I had, then I would have listened to my brother and never accepted your proposal,” she replied flippantly. The barb stung, but it was softened when she spoke again. “But, for argument’s sake, how much should I believe in them?”
He leaned in very close to her ear and said, “It is brave that you still married me, knowing what is said about me. I am either a shameless flirt without morals, or a heartless Lothario, depending upon the source.”
She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and pressed him back. Though her face was serious, the crests of her cheeks were growing pinker by the second. “How much is true?” she demanded.
He tilted his head and lifted a shoulder.
“Knowing the ton as I do and having heard some outrageous whispers myself, probably less than half of what is said. Do not misunderstand me, I am by no means lily-white; I have rightly earned by reputation as a rake, and I am not ashamed of it. I would not insult you by denying who I was before I met you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before tilting her chin back at the women, who, at that point, were whispering furiously as they attempted to sort out if Victoria was his new American wife or another mistress. “Well, if I wasn’t here, which of those women would you have chosen?”
“Victoria…” he said in a low, warning tone. Why did she wish to torture herself?
“Rafe…” she said, mimicking his tone. He knew she was displeased with him, but that logic did not speak to his eager body. Even her ire was arousing to him.
With a sigh of resignation, he looked the women up and down, which only caused them to blush and titter even more. It did not take him long to provide his wife with an honest answer.
“None of them,” he said with finality.
Victoria cocked a disbelieving brow at him.
“They are not to my taste.” The words came out flippant, but it was clear they had spurred some possibilities and curiosity behind his wife’s eyes.
“And what are those?” she eventually asked. “Your tastes?”
Rafe pretended to give this thoughtful consideration when the answer was already on the tip of his tongue.
“Bold,” he answered in a sensual rumble.
“Elegant. Confident.” He paused and cocked a brow at Victoria.
“Each of my paramours was those things, if you wish to have the bald truth…but now my wife is all of those things at once.” The statement finished with such sincerity that he shocked even himself.
Victoria scoffed lightly, and he recognized in the angle of her slim shoulders that she was preparing to leave him behind.
Acting quickly, Rafe cupped her elbow to prevent her from doing so.
“I can tell you do not believe me, but I speak with all honesty.” He leaned in until his breath stirred a loose curl near the delicate shell of her ear.
“You are very different, Victoria. And, for all the money in the world, I would not have married you if you’d been one of those three women across the shop.
” He didn’t think he imagined the minute shiver that traveled the length of her body when his thumb pressed against the pulse on the inside of her arm.
“Please believe that I am sorry for wounding you with my comment last evening; I only meant to lay bare the truth.”
“This is neither the time nor the place,” she hissed tremulously, her eyes scanning their surroundings.
A master of private assignations in public places, he’d already judged how far they were from the shopkeeper and any other customers, and he knew the risks of an eavesdropper were very low.
While a few glances were being cast their way, the ladies across the space had finally read Rafe’s disinterest and moved on.
“Neither was last night for what I said, but I thought I would keep the trend.” This was, by far, one of the least titillating conversations he’d had with a woman, but it was one of the most important. It could not wait if there was any hope for their future.
Victoria nibbled her lower lip in indecision.
“I do not understand how you can be so certain that you will never feel more than…a physical attraction in this marriage.” Every bit of skin from her hairline to the top of her throat above the embroidered neckline of her spencer turned pink.
“You are adamant that you have never and will never feel love; help me understand why that is.”
Rafe braced himself for the truth. “Some people are built for deep emotions; I am not one of them.” Her brow furrowed, and he turned his body to block her from the rest of the shop.
“My entire life, Alice has been the closest I’ve come to love.
In offering you this truth, I saw it as a way we might move forward with proper expectations.
I did not mean to insult you by underscoring the fact that ours was not a marriage of love, but I wanted you to be aware that my inability to love was not due to any shortcoming on your part.
I never want you to feel as if it is your fault. ”
“So, it was meant to be a kindness?”
“It was meant to be realistic.” His words were flat, but not cruel. He was merely reciting a fact. “You may never have love with me, your husband, but you might eventually find it elsewhere. And I will be happy for you if and when that happens.”
Something flickered in her captivating eyes, and it made him pause, his resolve in the rightness of his convictions stuttering ever so slightly.
He watched the column of her throat tighten and opened his mouth to speak, but the shopkeeper chose that moment to return with Victoria’s receipts.
By the time Rafe turned back to his wife, she was already headed out the door and back into the street.