Chapter Twenty-Three #3
Kempton’s words barely managed to overcome the haze of desire clouding Rafe’s mind. They made him pause. What did it matter if people believed he loved his wife? Wasn’t that all the better?
What caused his heart to stutter was the realization that it did not frighten him.
It did not cause his muscles to tense in preparation for flight or battle.
It did not cause alarm to permeate his every thought.
Instead, warmth suffused him—similar to the sensation he felt whenever he cradled Faith, played pretend with May, or lightheartedly bickered with Dom. Or when he held his wife in his arms.
That warmth seeped through the very marrow of his bones, welled up through his muscles and sinew, filled his chest and lungs and heart, and threatened to spill over. He knew he must say something, but when he opened his lips, no sound came forth.
Instead, Victoria spoke. “Thank you for accompanying me here tonight; I know you did not wish to. I have enjoyed a lovely time thus far, and it has been so good to see Luke again.”
Choked by his unfamiliar emotions, Rafe could only nod his head.
She cast her eyes around them to ensure they were relatively secluded before she added.
“There is…something I feel the need to say, and I need you to hear it without interruption or diminishment.” Rafe’s throat constricted.
“You are the most amazing guardian to Dominic, May, and Faith. You are caring and thoughtful and kind. And you make it impossible to stay mad at you for long, no matter how hard I try.” She chuckled lightly before continuing.
“You’ve proven time and time again that you are a man of many irresistible and admirable qualities—and don’t you dare snigger at me.
” She patted his chest, right over his thundering heart, and looked up into his face.
That heart stopped. “And, despite my best efforts, I am falling in love with you. Now, I know your feelings on the subject, but I know what is in my heart. I do not say this to pressure you or to cause you discomfort, but to unburden myself. I simply could not watch you being you any longer without admitting it.” She huffed a cleansing breath.
“There. I’ve said it. There is no taking it back now. ”
She was falling in love with him.
Once upon a time, those words would have made him laugh in disbelief before running off with as much haste as he was capable.
Now…all he wanted to do was pull Victoria into his arms and forget the rest of the world existed at all.
He was elated. He was overwhelmed by the faith she had in him—to know that she’d been watching his every move and found him worthy of such a thing.
He’d long claimed he didn’t believe in love, but with Victoria holding the possibility out to him like the gift it was, he recognized that it had actually been a fear of never having the chance to experience what it felt like to give and to receive.
She’d deemed him worthy, and that was more important than any other honorific or achievement in his life.
“Victoria, I—”
“You are the American, are you not?” A grizzled voice interrupted the moment. The two of them turned to find an octogenarian with a sparse shock of white hair tottering toward them with his cane.
When Rafe wished the old man would see himself off, Victoria offered him a kind smile despite the gruff greeting. “I am, indeed, sir. Is there something you needed?”
“I’ve some things to discuss with you,” he said brusquely, narrowing his pale, cloudy eyes at her.
“I assure you, New York is, indeed, quite the modern city. It might not have the same lengthy history as London, but it is still a bustling hub all the same.” Victoria was speaking to Lord Fenton, a doddering old cousin of their host who, apparently, still believed it was 1730.
He had more gums in his mouth than teeth, but he seemed harmless enough, especially when the genuine shock and awe lit up his timeworn face as Victoria told him America was becoming a great consumer and producer of goods.
His questions about her home country were less insulting than they were curious, so Rafe was happy to sit by and observe.
For her part, Victoria was kind and gracious with Fenton—especially when his weary nephew attempted to apologize for his great-uncle’s pestering questions and drag him away.
She’d simply told him it was no trouble and asked if the hobbling Fenton might join her on a nearby bench because her slippers were beginning to pinch her feet.
For all his unsteady faculties, the old man puffed up when presented with an opportunity to be chivalrous.
“Watch out, Blackwell, or he’ll be after your bride,” chuckled the man’s nephew good-naturedly.
Rafe grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”
Just as Victoria sat, Rafe noticed behind her a woman in a dark lace dress approaching at a steady clip. The torchlight glinted off her pale hair and the collection of jewels she wore.
Every muscle in Rafe’s body tensed.
“Excuse me,” he murmured and slipped away without waiting for a reply. With any luck, Fenton and his nephew would occupy Victoria long enough that a brief absence would not be noticed.
He managed to intercept Lady Dallow just as she passed near an alcove of hedges on the edge of the veranda. Pulling her into the space with a firm hand on her elbow, Rafe growled, “What do you think you are doing?”
She looked up at him with wide, doe-like eyes, all innocence and spun sugar. “Why, I am enjoying my cousin’s party, of course. Aren’t you?”
“Do not feign idiocy,” he snapped. “What are you doing trying to approach my wife? And do not pretend that you were headed anywhere else but directly to her.”
Her expression hardened instantaneously, her eyes freezing over with such speed that he wouldn’t have been surprised to find frost coating the branches around them. “I want to meet the woman who stole you from my bed. I need to see for myself what draw she has.”
“She did not steal me.” Rafe’s voice was a low, dangerous hiss.
It was everything he could do not to shake the woman senseless.
He hadn’t even yet spoken to Victoria when he’d called off his arrangement with the widow; Victoria couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it.
Was the woman so jealous, so delusional, that she refused to consider there might be any fault of her own in the termination of their relationship?
That she could only lay blame at Victoria’s feet?
Could she possibly believe that they might still be together had Victoria not come along?
“Our relationship terminated before I met my wife. I ended things because we had reached our natural end.”
She began shaking her head. “I don’t believe that. We meant something to each other.”
“You were my mistress. We enjoyed bed sport for a time. That time is over.” The words were harsh and biting, but Rafe had already tried civility and gentleness with her.
That clearly hadn’t worked, and he refused to tolerate this woman putting his marriage at risk because she was unwilling to relinquish him.
Bright spots of anger bloomed in her cheeks. “We were so beautiful together, Blackwood. Are you willing to throw all of that away for a plain American woman?
“I knew that it was fate as soon as my cousin told me you would be coming. I haven’t seen you in so long, and you never leave London.
To hear that you were on holiday in this part of Kent at this precise time?
That was divine intervention leading us back to one another.
” Her tone was increasing, and one glance around told Rafe they were beginning to draw notice.
Before Lady Dallow could cause more of a scene, he grabbed her upper arm and all but dragged her down a set of stairs set into the side of the veranda.
They were less noticeable than the main ones in the center that led down into the gardens, so guests had not ventured that way yet and he could take advantage of the seclusion to end the confrontation.
“You are embarrassing yourself,” he whispered harshly, barely able to make out her features now that they’d ventured further from the flickering torchlight.
“There is no embarrassment in the truth.” She flattened her palms against his chest, her fingers slowly curling around the black lapels of his coat.
“And the truth is, I miss you. I need you back in my bed,” she mewled, pressing herself against him, rubbing her breasts across his chest as if she were a needy cat.
Rafe tried to place some distance between them, to remove her fists from his clothing, but she held him fast. While he was much stronger than she and one good shove would have resolved the situation, he did not wish to hurt her.
He’d never physically harmed a woman before, and he refused to allow her to draw him into doing so.
They continued to scrabble, but she had latched onto him with impressive fortitude.
“Don’t you miss me, too?” she breathed. “I know how to please you—I know what you like. There is no way she could ever satisfy you as I did.”
Rafe opened his mouth to tell her how wrong she was, but Lady Dallow chose that moment to yank his head down to meet hers in a rough, possessive kiss.