Chapter Eighteen
Victoria took a detour through the kitchen gardens after speaking to the cook about that evening’s meal.
She was determined that Dominic’s ninth birthday supper would consist of all his favorite foods, bountiful desserts, and a special surprise.
The idea had been planted in her mind weeks earlier, but now she had an excuse to act upon it.
Following a day filled with all the outdoor adventures a boy could imagine, presents hidden away in trunks carried from London, and lovingly crafted decorations she and the staff had made from patterned wallpaper remnants, Dominic would join her and Rafe for a meal in the dining room.
Indeed, it had been confirmed to Victoria that children did not typically join adults at the dinner table, but he really had been remarkably well-behaved as of late, and it was his birthday, besides. What better way to celebrate than to make him feel special and grown up?
She hadn’t bothered asking Rafe’s permission for her plan, but it was less out of fear that he would naysay it, and more so because she enjoyed keeping her own confidence and witnessing the reactions.
She wanted to believe her husband would welcome the change on this special occasion and bend tradition for his nephew’s sake.
She hoped Rafe would not prove her wrong.
Victoria was so lost in her plans that she did not realize she was no longer alone until she nearly collided with Rafe at the end of a row of turnips.
The solid wall of male muscle was as immovable as the ancient garden boarder.
She would have fallen back to her rear had his hands not caught her shoulders and steadied her.
“That must have been quite the wool you were gathering.” Rafe’s chuckle sent a thrill of awareness dancing from the head to her toes and then settled beneath the warmth of his hands on her. “I said your name twice as I approached. I did not mean to catch you unaware.”
“I—I did not hear you,” she stammered lamely.
“So I’ve learned.” His smirk was maddeningly attractive.
Victoria gave herself a little shake, but it was ineffective at resetting her equilibrium because he had yet to release her shoulders. “Is there something you needed?”
“I was going to invite you for a walk, but I can see you’re already enjoying one. Unless I can convince you to prolong your outing?”
The tilt of his head.
The glitter in his eye.
That blasted charming lock of dark hair falling across his forehead.
The closeness of his warmth.
The woodsy scent.
Those hands on her shoulders.
The thumbs gently stroking her collarbone.
How could she resist?
“I might.”
The pleased grin he gave her weakened her knees so swiftly, they might have buckled completely had he not been so swift and smooth in pulling her arm through his and tugging her into motion.
“I did not realize you had such an interest in vegetables,” he remarked, toeing a drooping cabbage leaf out of their path.
“It’s less about the gardens and more about the fresh air. I was waylaid on my way back from the kitchens,” she explained. “The weather seemed far too fair not to enjoy.”
“And you decided to walk amongst the peas and the…what are those?”
“I believe they are onions.”
Rafe eyed the tall green stalks dubiously and, seeming to come to terms with her statement, made a thoughtful sound, and they continued on their way. “So, a walk amongst the peas and onions was the perfect thing for a day such as this?”
Victoria plucked a pod from the vine and shelled it, popping one of the sun-warmed peas between her lips.
It burst with sweetness, reminding her of summers in her grandmother’s kitchen.
“Flower gardens are lovely, but a treat while you stroll is so much better.” She held up another pea between her thumb and forefinger.
Rafe’s eyes flicked between the pea and her face until he finally registered what she was offering.
His lips parted, and she popped the pea between his lips.
A gasp escaped her throat when his teeth grazed the pad of her finger.
Somehow, an invisible string was drawn directly from her finger to the spot between her thighs that suddenly began to throb with every beat of her heart.
“It’s a shame that strawberries aren’t in season,” Rafe murmured. Victoria was unable to tear her eyes away from his lips. “They’re much more satisfying to feed to your lover than shelled peas.”
Victoria’s cheeks caught fire and she resumed walking, inadvertently tugging him along with her as she did so.
She cleared her throat and determinedly changed the subject.
“How did Dominic enjoy fishing?” Rafe had spent the middle of the day with his nephew at the fishing pond.
The groundskeeper had provided all the necessary equipment for a day of angling, much to the lad’s excitement.
Victoria had helped the cook organize a picnic of sorts for them to enjoy while they were on their outing.
“I learned something quite interesting,” he replied drily.
“Oh?”
“I am quite atrocious at catching fish.”
An unladylike bark of laughter burst free from Victoria. She couldn’t help it—she hadn’t expected that declaration. “I was under the impression that you were going to be a sufficient tutor.”
“Apparently not.”
“So your over-inflated sense of masculine confidence proved faulty then?”
Rafe narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve done it a few times. How difficult could it be to show someone else?”
“Too difficult, apparently,” Victoria sniggered.
“It takes a great deal more patience than I remember,” he groused.
“Exactly how long has it been since you last went fishing?”
He lifted his head toward the sky and squinted his eyes in thought. “Kempton and Brinley dragged me along because they hadn’t believed my father had never taken me. I think it was before University.”
“So at least a decade ago?” She laughed incredulously. “Whyever did you believe that qualified you to teach Dominic?”
“Listen here, you little minx…” Abruptly, he turned her and caged her body with his against the stone wall of the gardens.
Victoria hadn’t realized they’d traversed the length of the garden and exited the grounds protected by a wall that reached just over her head.
With Rafe craning his neck and leaning into her as he was, both of them would have been hidden from view of the kitchens and any of the rear-facing windows in The Cottage.
“I’ve had just about enough of your teasing,” Rafe said.
His voice was a low rumble that reverberated through his chest, across the scant space between them, and into hers.
It sank into her heart, her lungs, her blood, her very bones.
She might have been intimidated by his size were it not for that mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
Despite his words, he was enjoying her teasing… and he was teasing her back.
“I wouldn’t tease if there wasn’t an occasion for it,” she replied, only slightly breathlessly.
“Oh?” His silken tone made her skin prickle with awareness.
His face was so close to hers; his body, so intoxicatingly near.
She felt his knee and thigh brushing the fabric between her legs.
If she tilted her pelvis even a little, he would be pressed against the damp, sensitive flesh screaming for his attention.
The demanding ache had only grown worse with every brush of his hand on hers, every tender moment she witnessed between him and his wards, each smile he shared with her.
If Victoria were honest with herself, she would admit that her physical desire for her husband had never wavered since their wedding night; if anything, it had simmered beneath the surface, growing stronger with each new piece she learned about him, and bided its time until just such a moment when they were alone…
and he had her at his mercy. She pressed her palms into the weathered stone wall at her back, cursing its lack of purchase after the surface had been worn smooth from centuries of nature.
“I used to fish every summer,” she said a little hoarsely. “I am confident that Dominic would flourish beneath my instruction.”
“You think you know more than I do?” he asked, not unkindly. He was continuing their game.
“At least in this regard.” Her breath hitched when his nose grazed her cheek. Was he smelling her?
No.
Scenting her was a better description of his deep, slow inhalation—like a hound and his ill-fated prey. Her body trembled in anticipation rather than fear.
How many nights had she lain awake wondering what it would feel like to have Rafe devour her again? To make her world shatter into a million glittering pieces, only to put her back together and do it all again…and again…?
Nearly every night since their wedding.
Whether she wished him to or not, her husband visited her nearly every waking and sleeping thought.
He’d charmed his way back past the rudimentary defenses she’d rebuilt since learning of his steadfast aversion to allowing deeper emotions between them.
The rake had that way about him, and Victoria could well see how so many members of London Society were consistently won over by him.
“S—Surely, there are a great many things you might teach me, even if fishing is not one of them,” she finally added.
She watched as the black of his pupils nearly swallowed the deep, striated blue of his irises entirely.
The flaring of his nostrils and parting of his perfectly formed lips were evidence of his interest in her words.
Though she hadn’t meant the words solely as an entendre, she’d deeply intrigued him.
“I am certain…” he began and paused before starting again.
“I am certain you are correct in that regard, Victoria.” He bent his head and ran his parted lips along the column of her throat so gently it felt as if a butterfly’s wings had left gooseflesh in their wake.
She wanted to hear him say her name in that deep, husky tone at least once a day for the rest of her life.
“And, should you desire it, you need only ask, and I will gladly tutor you in any subject you deem fit.” His teeth caught the lobe of her ear for only a moment, sending a jolt of pain-laced pleasure arcing through her.
It was done so swiftly that she almost believed she’d imagined it.
Victoria had been so lost in Rafe’s words that she hadn’t realized her eyes had slid closed until they fluttered open, nor was she aware that her hands had moved from the wall behind her until she had to force them to release their white-knuckled grip on the navy-blue lapels of Rafe’s coat.
She hastily wiped her damp palms on her butter-yellow skirts and forced herself to take a bracing breath of country air.
Unfortunately for her, it was tinged with more than a hint of Rafe’s masculine scent. She nearly whimpered from weakness.
And, of course, Rafe could see how he affected her.
Without any regard for her aching body or her pudding-soft knees, he tugged her arm through his once more and practically dragged her into motion.
He guided her back onto the worn dirt path leading from the back gate of the kitchen gardens toward the fields sprinkled with blue and white wildflowers she could not name.
“Where are we going?” Victoria demanded weakly, still more than a little off kilter from the abrupt shift in tone and activity.
“I thought we were taking a walk?” he asked, feigning surprise. “Were we meant to do something else?” He turned his head to look at her, and she felt the suggestive caress of his gaze as tangibly as if he’d run his large hands over every inch of her naked body.
“No. Well, yes. I mean—” Victoria released a puff of frustration through pursed lips. “Yes, we are walking together.”
He nodded decisively. “Very good. I believe we should have ample time to reach the distant sheep field and return before we need to prepare for supper.”
She stepped on a pebble and winced as it bit through the thin soles of her slippers. “I am hardly wearing the proper shoes for such an outing such as that. Had you given me notice, I might have changed.”
“I much prefer spontaneity.” He was so lighthearted and cheery—so different from the velvety seductiveness she’d so recently experienced from him. “Besides, I shall carry you if you require it.”
She laughed again. “Carry me? All that way?”
“My dear, I would carry you to the moon and back if you asked it of me.”
Victoria’s eyes flew to her husband, but he offered her only his impassive profile.
Do not read too much into what he said, she reminded herself. He is a habitual charmer.
And, while his intentions may not have been malicious in the least, she did not doubt that such sweet and solicitous words often passed his lips without a second thought. It was in his nature to flirt. That did not mean he felt anything deeper than friendly affection and physical attraction.
It did not.
It did not.
It did not…