Chapter 2
Never married, hmm?
Adolphus Merritt, Duke of Cashard, knew there were words for women who bore children out of wedlock, but he couldn’t see how they applied to Athena Oliphant. He liked that she was so forthright, which certainly added to the evidence she wasn’t exactly puritanical, but it was more than that.
She was kind and caring, that much was obvious, and she teased him. When was the last time someone—even Matthew—had teased him?
Never, that was when.
It’s because she doesn’t know you’re a duke, you idiot.
Well, yes, there was that.
But when she’d been introducing herself and her son in such simple terms, Cash had resisted the urge to hide behind his title, the way he always had. Instead, he’d called himself Cash, which was a diminutive few were brave enough to use.
He was always, “Your Grace” or, “the duke,” or more often, “the Duke of Cashard, you know, the one with more money than Midas and a stick up his arse?”
Oh, he knew he was seen as imperious and cold, but that was a success, was it not? He’d worked hard to maintain that mien of aloofness his father had encouraged, and it had served him and his business dealings well.
Matthew was the only person he allowed himself to be…well, himself around.
But there was just something about this warm summer afternoon, with the sun shining merrily on the river, and this beautiful, refined woman, which made him want to be just Cash.
And she was refined. She might not be titled, but it was obvious she was well-schooled and understood social niceties, if only to laugh them off. She bore the name Oliphant, so she must be from the local clan, perhaps a daughter of one of the landowners.
She was far freer with her touch than any woman he'd met at a ball or musicale, or even at the blasted house party his mother had forced him to attend. And Athena made him laugh, which wasn’t something to be easily dismissed.
She was fun to be with, and he wondered if he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps horizontally—
“Are ye hungry, Cash?”
He blinked out of a fantasy where he was feeding her strawberries covered in crème, to see her offering him an apple. Grinning abashedly, he took it from her, noting her fingers lingered against his own.
And if he wasn’t mistaken, the way her nostrils flared, and the subtle way she leaned toward him, all indicated she desired him as well.
Perhaps it was a good thing they were seated again, because this blasted swimming costume did nothing to hide his arousal.
Luckily, the lads didn’t seem to notice anything unusual.
They now sat cross-legged on the blanket, forming the last two points of their foursome, so that they faced one another.
While their parents sent one another teasing grins and heavy-lidded glances when the lads’ attention was elsewhere, Callan and Matthew chatted happily about the river and the kinds of fish in it.
“Did ye hear that, Mama? Matthew says there’s fish as big as me in there! Can I see one?”
“Well, I dinnae ken,” Athena answered smoothly, while handing her son an apple. “Yer grandda used to take yer uncles fishing here, but I cannae image what we would use as bait for a beast that large. After all, ye would be far too big,” she teased and leaned over to tickle him.
As the lad folded over in laughter, Matthew spoke up, in that serious way of his. “I could take him, ma’am. I’m a good fisher; my father taught me! And we’d use worms or cheese for bait, not little boys.”
Callan, still giggling, pointed at Athena. “Ye could help us dig them up!”
Although Cash suspected there wasn’t anything which frightened this woman, she played along by wrinkling her nose adorably. “Touch slimy worms? Me? Nae, thank ye! But I will hold the bucket for ye.”
Matthew was beaming. “I could show you how to attach them to the hook. I’m good at that!”
He glanced at his father, as if seeking agreement. Or perhaps permission? Either way, Cash granted both, dipping his head in acknowledgement.
“Matthew once caught a fish this big.” He held his hands about shoulder width apart, speaking to Callan, and was gratified by the way the lad’s eyes widened in wonder. “He wasn’t much older than you are now.”
“Was it here? Did ye catch it here?” The boy was bouncing in excitement.
Cash shook his head solemnly. “No, it was from the river near our—our home.” He caught himself before he mention his estate. “My son excels at everything he tries,” he finished proudly.
As Matthew blushed and bit into his apple, Athena caught Cash’s eye and grinned appreciatively.
He was surprised by the surge of gratefulness which welled up at her approval.
He didn’t need anyone’s approval—he was a duke, after all.
So why did knowing he’d impressed her with his praise for his son make him feel all warm inside?
That’s your cock talking.
Oh, right.
As Matthew launched into an explanation about the best ways to entice a trout, Athena’s grin widened. Holding his gaze, she bit into the apple, and how in all the hells did she manage to make something so simple look so sensual?
The red of the apple matched her hair, which was speckled with gold in the dappled sunlight under the oak’s branches.
It really was a remarkable shade of red, almost fiery, and surely symbolized a personality to match.
She wore it in a simple braid down her back, which had likely been for swimming, although small wisps of hair framed her face.
Although he knew she was likely a merchant’s educated daughter, or perhaps a disgraced member of the minor gentry, he was struck by the simplicity of such a coiffure.
She’d braided her hair to go swimming with her son, but what would she say if he offered her a maid to arrange her hair or drape her in silks?
What would she look like wearing nothing but those red curls and his naked body?
As if she could sense his thoughts, her hazel eyes shifted to a knowing look, and he found himself grinning in acknowledgement. Here and now, his title and her past meant nothing. They were two adults, enjoying the summer afternoon with their children.
“Tomorrow, Mama? Can Matthew teach me to fish tomorrow?”
He watched as her gaze dropped to her son’s and saw the moment she understood what the question would mean. She opened her mouth to tell Callan no, because Cash and Matthew only came to the river once a week.
But the thought of allowing that to happen—disappointing the boys, and in a very real way, disappointing himself—was abhorrent, so he beat her to the response. “Of course, lad. We could be here tomorrow.”
It was Matthew who gasped. “Really, Father? Twice in one week?”
Cash shrugged easily, mentally reorganizing his schedule.
Attending the Dumpkins house party had been playing havoc with his schedule anyhow, but at least the Countess had offered him a study from which to work.
His correspondence was being forwarded to the Dumpkins estate, and his secretary had traveled with them.
If Mother hadn’t been so insistent he escort Carlotta to this thing, his life would’ve been easier… but what was one more disruption?
“I think,” he began slowly, mentally cataloging what he needed to do in the morning, “if our new friends are willing to come tomorrow afternoon again, instead of in the morning, we could make that work.”
While the lads celebrated in excitement, Athena dipped her chin in response to his unspoken question. She was so regal and beautiful, he damn near ached to learn more about her.
Cock, remember?
Damn, he must need some relief, because every movement the woman made caused him to stiffen.
“We can be here tomorrow afternoon,” she said, in that soft Scottish brogue he was coming to love. “I will pack enough lunch for us all.”
Callan was practically bouncing up and down. “I’m going fishing, Mama! I cannae wait to tell Granda and Uncle Lysander!”
“Father,” piped up Matthew, “do I have to wear a bathing costume tomorrow? Callan swims in the nuddy.”
As Cash choked on his laughter, Callan smacked Matthew’s arm. “Ye have to wear clothes because yer pecker’s bigger than mine. Uncle Lysander says I’m a wee lad with wee parts that willnae scare the ladies.”
To Cash’s surprise, Athena blushed, her freckled skin turning a becomingly pink tint. He hadn’t thought anything could embarrass her, but apparently, her son’s poor manners did. As Matthew defended the size of his “pecker,” she groaned and dropped her face into her hands.
But once started, the rumble of laughter in Cash’s chest didn’t seem to want to stop. He was still chuckling as Athena tried her best to change the subject, and it almost worked.
In fact, his heart felt lighter than it had in…well, as long as he could recall. Usually, these stolen moments at the river with his son were the bright points of his week, but today…?
Today was special.
Even as he helped Athena pack up the blanket and the picnic basket, he had to fight back the uncharacteristic smile. He should be disappointed that their time was ending, but he’d been promised tomorrow.
And the promise of tomorrow was nestled in his heart.
Surprisingly, Cash managed to accomplish rather a lot of things the rest of that afternoon, and the following morning as well.
There was the usual pile of correspondence, and the household budget from his townhouse in London, where his mother and much younger sister Carlotta usually resided, but his secretary helped him manage much of it.
Although the poor man did wonder at his employer’s rush.