Chapter Nineteen
Rafe was still mulling over his unthinking comment to Victoria in the kitchen gardens when he descended the stairs for supper that evening. Whatever had possessed him to make such a fanciful offer? Furthermore, why had he meant the absurd declaration?
She addled him.
He’d spent far too long pining after, contemplating all the ways he found her attractive, pricking his ears waiting for just the sound of her laughter. And all without ever again enjoying the heaven that was her body.
He had, indeed, dragged her on that ill-advised walk that afternoon, though they hadn’t made it nearly as far as he’d intended before Victoria’s slippers began to trouble her.
In truth, he’d had no desire to explore the expansive fields surrounding The Cottage and had only wanted to expend some of the energy she ignited within him.
He could have gladly taken her right there against the kitchen garden wall—just hiked up her skirts, pulled her leg over his hip, and thrust into her until they were both screaming in release—but he’d managed to hold himself in check.
Barely. He’d reminded himself that that was how a man treated his mistress, not his wife… unless she asked for it.
The instantaneous image of Victoria begging him for just such treatment was quite possibly one of the most erotic imaginings of his life, and Rafe had had more than his fair share of them.
Victoria hadn’t complained about the walk; however, as soon as he saw a hitch in her gait, he was true to his word and immediately scooped her into his arms. With an about-face turn, they headed back the way they’d come, and he steadfastly ignored every one of his wife’s protests that she was fine and more than capable of returning home under her own power.
“I do not doubt your determination in the slightest,” he’d replied, trying his best not to become overly excited by the feel of her wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body more closely to his where he held her high against his chest. “But I’ll not be accused of abuse when you are unable to walk properly for the next few days.
” There were far more pleasurable ways to hinder a woman’s ability to walk comfortably. Or sit. Or ride a horse.
He’d barely stifled a groan at the possibilities.
Once back at The Cottage, they’d gone their separate ways to bathe and prepare for the evening meal.
Rafe may or may not have taken advantage of the solitary time to abuse himself to his mind’s creative images of Victoria…
Who was he fooling? Of course he had pumped into his tight fist until the image of his wife’s parted lips and passion-glazed eyes sent him over the edge.
All pleasant musings evaporated as soon as he entered the dining room and saw not only Victoria, but Dominic already seated and waiting for him. The sight of his nephew wearing his best clothing and seated across from Victoria was so unexpected that his steps stuttered.
The boy turned to him, his face utterly beaming with pride.
His smile was so wide that it revealed the tooth in the side of his mouth that had come loose only the week before.
His clothing was a perfect miniature replica of what Rafe wore—a dark coat, a patterned brown waistcoat, breeches, and a starched white cravat knotted simply beneath his chin.
Even his shoes—the ones Victoria had purchased for him shortly after their first meeting—were polished to an impeccable shine.
He was turned out in the highest of fashion for someone his age, and Rafe was confused.
“What is going on here?” he finally asked, looking between his nephew and his wife.
Unfortunately, this caused his attention to snag on the vision that was Victoria.
She was dressed in a sky-blue gown more suited for a ballroom than a quiet supper at home.
The cut exposed the delicate curve of her shoulders, a tantalizing hint of her decolletage lifted to delectable perfection, and accentuated the trimness of her form.
Gems glittered at her ears and were draped from her throat, cascading in a waterfall to her cleavage. She was clothed to stun and impress.
His mouth went dry so suddenly and so fiercely that he could not form a protest when Victoria stood, made a quick excuse to Dominic, and wrenched Rafe from the room.
She whirled on him as soon as they were out in the hallway, but he could think of nothing past the gorgeous contrast between her ivory skin and sable hair.
“This is the country,” Victoria began in a low hiss. “I thought the setting would be informal enough that it would not be an issue if I invited Dominic to join us at the table for supper.”
He could not form another thought beyond, “Children do not usually dine with adults.” He knew it was inane, but how could he possibly concoct anything more coherent with her looking as beautiful as she did?
She pursed her lips and made a rather rude sound so incongruous with her elegant appearance that he actually jumped. “It is his birthday,” she whispered more loudly. “And the boy desires nothing above being just like his uncle. Do not shatter his joy by sending him away. If you do, so help me—”
“Very well!” Rafe’s chuckle masked just how unnerved he was by Victoria’s powerful vehemence. He snagged her wagging finger and brought the back of her hand to his lips. “How can I resist when it is clear you’ve put such thought into planning this evening?”
She replied with a sniff and regal nod of her head before allowing him to escort her back into the dining room, where Dom waited for them.
He was busy kicking his feet back and forth, watching the repetitive motion with downcast eyes.
He looked up at their entrance, and the slump of his shoulders was evidence of what he expected to happen next.
It twisted Rafe’s heart in his chest that this boy—the one who, if Victoria could be believed, idolized him even though he possessed very few redeeming qualities—thought he would send him away.
He was shaken by the faith both Dom and Victoria had in him, unnerved by the power he held in their lives.
He wasn’t certain he could live up to whatever image of him their minds possessed. He wasn’t sure he was worthy.
Taking a few precious seconds to regain his composure, Rafe guided Victoria back to her seat, saw her settled, and then took up his own chair at the head of the table. He could feel Dom’s expectant eyes upon him, gauging his every move to see when he would be sent back up to Nan and his sisters.
Rafe cleared his throat and raised a hand to the footman in the corner. The man ducked away to begin retrieving the dishes Victoria had planned with the kitchen staff. Rafe turned his attention to Dom and asked, “So. What was your favorite part of today?”
Immediately, the boy sat up straight in his chair and launched into a detailed account of how much he’d enjoyed his gifts and, much to Rafe’s chagrin, how Rafe had been forced to wade nearly waist-deep in the pond to retrieve the pole that had slipped from his hands…
while Dom had caught no less than five fish.
Victoria’s giggle was unmistakable, and Rafe shot her a look that promised retribution.
The comfortable, upbeat chatter lasted throughout the meal.
From the potato leek soup to the fresh trout landed by the lad of honor just that day, to the herb-crusted roast and on through to the sticky toffee pudding—which everyone agreed was delightful and the highlight of the delicious meal—Dom was elated to be treated like the little lord he was.
His manners were remarkably impeccable, if a bit exaggerated.
Every polite request, each time he refrained from slurping or dropping his food to the tablecloth or his clothes, Rafe grew more and more impressed with his nephew—how had the boy learned and grown so much without him noticing?
Furthermore, more than once, Rafe caught Dom mimicking his posture or timing his bites to match his own, further underscoring Victoria’s belief that the lad idolized him. It was humbling.
His heart swelled watching Dominic and Victoria interact and converse.
There was respect in every one of her queries and comments.
A wave of contentment washed over him as he sat there with his family.
He couldn’t stop staring at the scene Victoria had curated, the care she had placed in every detail that entire day.
What had begun as a hunt for money had somehow wound up leading him to the one woman the children needed most… that he had needed most.
How had that happened?
How had she come to mean so much to all of them?
A grinning Victoria turned to him, and he suddenly knew the answer.
Because she was Victoria.
No other woman could have moved so seamlessly into their lives and made them all brighter.
No other woman could have tolerated what he’d put her through and remained as strong and self-possessed.
No other woman could have made him feel like he could turn his back on everything he’d ever believed was important and reconsider what his life could be.
Following the meal, their trio adjourned to the sitting room for a game of charades spearheaded by none other than his wife.