28. Miles
Miles
My wife is a fucking knockout.
I’m standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching Ruby descend, one hand gripping the banister so she doesn’t wobble in her heels. From the angle I’m standing at, her legs have got to be ten feet long.
Honestly, I’m speechless.
She’s beautiful any day of the week, but I’ve gotten so used to seeing her barefaced, hair braided back, wearing jodhpurs and T-shirts—usually covered in some kind of slobber or horse crap, dust, and hair—that for a moment I forget how breathtaking she really is.
Her long hair has been coaxed into thick, glossy waves, and some dark, smoky stuff around her eyes makes them look five times bigger and more sparkly than normal. The green irises are startlingly vivid, her lashes blacker, her cheeks pinker.
Everything is magnified, including my favorite part—her freckles.
The sunshine over the past month has added a whole constellation scattered across her nose.
But—and I smile to myself—her lips are bare, and I know Ruby well enough that she’s done it on purpose. Because she knows whatever she puts on her lips will only get kissed off by me.
I can’t stop kissing her.
Her steps slow on the stairs. “Like what you see?”
“Oh, I more than like it.” I make a big show of checking my watch. “In fact, we might even have time for a quickie.”
Her laugh hits me square in the chest. Light and bright, it’s my favorite sound in the world since the first time I heard it.
“Hell no. It’s taken me far too long to look like this already. I’m not messing anything up.”
“What if I do all the work?” I counter.
She takes the last few steps down and plants her palms against my chest. I catch the briefest flash in her eye as she considers my offer before playfully shoving me away. “No way, mister.”
I shrug and wrap my arms around her instead, giving those bare lips a brief kiss. “Had to try. I’ll settle for going home with the hottest girl there.”
Stepping back, my eyes drop, and I give her a full, exaggerated once-over. The pink tint deepens in her cheeks, though I’m honestly amazed she still blushes around me.
There’s not a part of her body I don’t know.
We’ve fucked all over this house, along with a few places at the yard—empty stables, my office, against the fence post . . . I know exactly how to touch her.
I know that if I swipe my thumb beneath that sensitive patch of skin under her left nipple, I can get her moaning louder than if I go right.
And when I slip my hand between her legs, her keening cry makes me harder than I’ve ever been .
. . that when her body flushes the same color as her cheeks, I know she’s about sixty seconds away from coming.
As I take her hand, I realize she’s wearing the pink jumpsuit she wore on our wedding day. Even though it had been nothing more than signing a piece of paper—done for reasons far removed from where we are now—the sight of it mesmerizes me, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
I’m not the same person I was when I married her.
“You look absolutely stunning.”
She takes a step back, her eyes raking over me. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I do look good. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist, thick thighs, and a year-round tan, offset by a white shirt and custom navy suit.
Most of my life is spent in jeans and a T-shirt at the yard, so when the occasion calls for it, I do it properly.
And the pang of regret I felt for not making more effort on our wedding day rears its ugly head.
But the way Ruby’s looking at me right now? It’s the first time anyone has ever made me feel attractive. She’s proud to have her arm in mine, and it has nothing to do with the size of my bank account or the social currency I provide.
“Quit looking at me like that.”
I grin wider. “I can’t help it. I’ve been in trouble with you since the first day we met.”
She steps back and drops into a slight curtsy, taking it as the compliment it is. “Why, thank you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to be five minutes late—”
She’s saved from answering by a knock on the door. I open it to find James Winters, the Burlington head of operations, standing there with a set of car keys dangling from his fingers.
I snatch them off him with a smile. “Thank you, James.”
“My pleasure,” he replies, in the same dulcet tone he does for any situation.
The man is professional through and through and totally unruffled with any request. After dealing with us for the past two decades, he’s learned to keep a neutral expression, so I’m all the more surprised when his brows rise into his hairline as Ruby appears behind me.
It’s been a busy few months with the polo season, and I realize I haven’t seen him since we got back from Colorado.
Reaching for Ruby, I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her closer.
But just because I haven’t seen him doesn’t mean he’s not fully aware of everything going on in the family, including my marriage.
If Lando and my mother haven’t told him directly, he would have overheard them complaining about it.
“James, I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Ruby.”
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” He shakes his head and holds his hand toward her.
“Ruby, darling, meet James. He runs the Burlington rabble.”
“Then I hope they pay you overtime,” she says.
My head falls back with a loud laugh. “Not nearly enough.”
“I like you,” James adds, in an uncharacteristic show of familiarity, and Ruby responds with a blush and a smile.
I’m still getting used to the pangs of jealousy and possessiveness I experience when anyone makes Ruby react this way, and it seems the Army general, who practically raised me, is no different.
Lifting the keys, I dangle them. “Appreciate you bringing her over. You know there’s no one else I’d trust to drive her.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nods slightly.
“You should. Want the Range Rover to drive back?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s a beautiful evening. I’ll walk through the fields.”
“Good plan.” I slap him on the shoulder, guiding Ruby out behind me, and we all walk down the path together. “I’d stop by the pub too if I were you. Don’t hurry back.”
“Perhaps.” He chuckles, opening the garden gate. “Enjoy your evening.”
Before he walks off, I say, “James?”
“Yes, Miles?”
“Has everyone else left?”
He’s been with our family long enough that he can read between the lines. And just like he knew about Ruby, he’ll have heard about what’s gone down between Clementine and me. And what I’m really asking.
“Your mother and sister went up to London last night. They’re staying at the house in Eaton Square, along with His Grace and Miss Simpson.
They’ll be staying at the house until her play run is over.
I believe Lord Hendricks and Lord Alex are traveling up together this evening.
Alex and Miss Wylder are also staying in Eaton Square as they have doctor’s appointments for the baby. ”
I nod, ignoring the clench in my stomach. Normally, this sort of information would’ve been shared in the family group chat, but since my argument with Clementine, things have gone silent. Quite frankly, I haven’t wanted to speak to anyone in my family either.
I can’t decide who I’m more pissed off at. Hendricks, who knew and didn’t tell me, or Lando, who hasn’t bothered to check in since, just like everyone else in our family. And they all know.
It’s taking all my effort not to assume they think I’m overreacting, and they’re all fine with Clementine dating someone who almost killed me.
“Thanks, James. Appreciate the update.”
“You’re welcome,” he says and walks away.
Taking Ruby’s hand, I lead her out through the gate.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at my Ferrari Amalfi, finished in Flyers colors—navy with pale blue racing stripes down the sides.
“This is Bertha,” I reply proudly.
“Bertha?”
Ignoring the amusement in her voice, I hold the door open and gesture for her to get in. “Yes, Big Bertha. Six hundred and forty horsepower in this baby. Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Where’s it been?”
“She’s kept at Burlington. Or Foxleigh,” I say with pretend indignation. As if she’d think I’d leave Bertha anywhere else. “I can’t exactly park her outside the cottage. Some idiot tractor driver would scratch it.”
“Sensible,” she says with a smirk that’s all sarcasm as I close the door, round the front, and get in.
Checking our seat belts, I hover my finger over the engine button, and I turn to Ruby. “Ready?”
She nods. The 3.9-liter twin turbocharged V8 roar is music to my ears.
We make it to London in an hour and forty-five minutes, and my hand is resting on Ruby’s thigh the entire drive.
“Miles, are you sure you want to go out tonight?” she asks as we come off the motorway. “We can turn around.”
My eyes slice to her before focusing on the road, and it’s like she’s read my mind. The entire journey, anxiety has been steadily increasing.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because the closer we’ve gotten, the harder your hand’s been digging into my leg.”
I glance down and immediately loosen my grip.
“Whoops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”
“Seriously, Miles. Do you actually want to go tonight?”
The truthful answer is no. I’m still sitting in my raw hurt, and every time I think about Clementine and Torres, I want to punch something. Thinking about it has my fingers clenching the steering wheel.
But I can’t not go. I’m supporting Holiday because that’s what family does.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “As long as you stay by my side all night and never let go of my hand.”
“You make me sound like a comfort blanket.”
I turn to her, sliding my hand carefully into her curls without ruining them, and wink. “You can lie on top of me any day.”
She looks rightly disgusted. “Oh my God—”
“Ruby, you are my comfort blanket.” I lift her hand and kiss it. “But . . . I caveat that with getting the fuck out whenever we want. Plus, it’s Shakespeare, so the likelihood is high that one of us will fall asleep.”
Twenty minutes later, I find the perfect parking space near the theater and cut the engine. Getting out, I round the bonnet and open Ruby’s door.
“Ready?”
She nods, takes my hand, and we head to the theater. Holiday’s name flashes in impressive white light bulbs above a huge poster of her next to one of the full cast. There’s already a queue outside for opening night, groups hovering by the stage door waiting for a glimpse of any actors.
Ruby might have been ready, but it turns out I’m not. Walking in and up the stairs to the bar we’re led to, the first thing I see is Clementine laughing with the rest of my family. A quickie would have made being late better. Though not by much.
Hurt and sadness punch me hard, and I must squeeze Ruby’s hand because she sees what I see and turns to me.
“We can leave.”
I’m so tempted to turn around, but obviously, that’s the moment I’m spotted, and their laughter dies.
“Miles—” My mum walks toward me with outspread arms and pulls me into a hug. “Hello, darling.”
Looking over her shoulder, I consider my siblings. There’s not one shred of fucking loyalty toward me. And it’s complicated all the more because I don’t want them to shit on Clementine either. I’d just rather they weren’t looking like they’re having the best time ever.
Like my feelings are irrelevant.
I push away from my mum’s vise-like grip.
“You know what? Fuck this. We’re leaving—”
“Milo, c’mon.” Alex steps toward me, his tone conveying how unreasonable he thinks I’m being. “It’s just one night at the theater. You don’t even have to see each other. It’ll be dark.”
I shake my head, eyes scanning across my siblings, all of whom look guilt-ridden. I feel validated. “No, you don’t get it.”
“We know you’re upset—”
“Upset? Clementine’s fucking the guy who almost killed me—”
“Miles . . .” My mum’s voice cuts through in a low warning.
I shake my head, barely keeping my rage at bay.
“You might have all forgotten what I’ve been through over the past two years, but I haven’t.
And let me remind you it’s the England’s Cup in less than two weeks.
The last time the Flyers won it, Dad was alive.
The last time the Flyers played, I nearly died .
. .” Emotion constricts my throat, and my voice breaks.
“Has it occurred to any of you that I’m trying to win it for him?
” It was rhetorical, so I don’t expect anyone to answer, but the silence still feels heavy.
“So no, Alexander, I’m not upset. I’m doing all I can to focus, while you seem to be planning a cozy couples’ night to include Santiago fucking Torres. ”
I swear to God if any of them rolls their eyes, I will lose my shit.
To give them credit, they don’t.
“Miles, let’s go.” Ruby’s hand is already outstretched toward me, and I take it. We don’t speak until we reach the car.
When I open the door for her, instead of getting in, she peers up at me. I shaved today, and I feel the softness of her hands when she cups my face.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
For a second, my heart feels like it’s ripping open, but then I look at her. No, I’m not okay. But I don’t feel alone, and for that, I’m so grateful.
“I’m going home with the hottest girl here. I’m perfect.”