Chapter Twenty-eight
Five days and one triumphant game of lawn bowls later, Grace was lying on a picnic blanket, sheltered by the ruins of what had once been a medieval castle.
High above her, white fluffy clouds glided slowly across a pale blue sky.
A bird of prey was circling, its loops almost lazy in the warm sunshine of late summer.
Tobias was sitting next to her on the blanket, long legs out in front of him, shirtsleeves rolled back to his elbows.
She had never seen his forearms bare before and she found it hard to keep her gaze from them for very long.
His skin was pale there, which was hardly surprising given how gentlemen were supposed to keep their arms covered, but they were muscled, lean and long.
Although she was trying to keep her glances covert, she thought he might have spotted how often she was looking given his self-satisfied smirk.
‘Would you like some strawberries?’ asked Tobias, holding out a bowl towards her, the muscles she so admired flexing.
‘I would but that would mean I have to move my hand and I am feeling exceptionally indolent.’ She hadn’t meant for him to feed her, but he held the sweet berry to her lips and she bit into it.
Some of the juice ran onto her chin and she hastily wiped it away with her fingers. ‘Delicious,’ she murmured.
‘Hm,’ he agreed, gazing down at her, his eyes full of heat and she had the sense he was not talking about the fruit.
Somewhere to their left, Montagu stamped the ground.
‘He is getting impatient,’ she said.
Tobias tore his gaze away from her lips and she wished she hadn’t spoken. She’d had high hopes for this outing, but so far Tobias had been frustratingly gentlemanly.
‘Montagu is not irritable with us,’ Tobias said. ‘He is grumpy because one of the other stallions, Murphy, was showing a marked interest in Daisy yesterday. It has put him out of temper.’
‘Oh no. I do hope that does not mean the end of the grand romance.’ Grace had become invested in Montagu and Daisy’s love story, despite it being an invention of Tobias’.
‘I suspect it will be pistols at dawn if Murphy oversteps the mark. Montagu does not strike me as a forgiving man.’ Tobias turned his head in the direction of the two horses, his body blocking them from Grace’s view.
‘But I do not think you should worry overmuch. This territorial display seems to be impressing Daisy.’
Grace rolled onto her side and caught another sneaky glance of Tobias’ bare skin. ‘I would not have had you down as whimsical, but making up stories about your horse and the lady he is courting definitely fits into that category.’
‘My natural state is surly and grumpy,’ he agreed, ‘but you bring out this side in me.’
Tobias had not mentioned marriage since pressing her up against a bookshelf and kissing her senseless, but she did not think that he had changed his mind about the idea.
If anything, he was wooing her harder than ever before.
There was lawn bowls and long walks around his gardens; there were parlour games and playing in the nursery with Charlotte; and there were private, stolen hours where his mouth moved over hers and she forgot about everything else.
During those long, timeless moments, Tobias held her as if she were the most precious person in the world, but he kept his hands on her back, her waist or in her hair.
He never took things further, never tugged her towards his bed, or hinted that he was ready to give in and become her lover.
The rolled-back sleeves seemed to be a new tactic, one she was not averse to.
‘Is there any fruit cake?’ she asked.
Tobias flicked open the picnic hamper. ‘I believe there is,’ but he made no move to reach inside and remove it.
‘May I have some? If I remember correctly, I was promised a whole one to myself in exchange for keeping certain secrets…’
He laughed, the crinkles around his eyes deepening.
He was doing that more often now. Especially when it was just the two of them.
Being responsible for his increased happiness was a joy she hadn’t realised she needed.
Although, if she was honest with herself, he made her happier than she had ever been.
‘I will hand you a slice if you answer a question honestly,’ he said. ‘What is it about the bare arms that is holding your attention?’
‘Tobias Dashworth,’ she said, pushing herself upright, ‘you are always after compliments.’
Tobias blushing was almost as wonderful as his smile. ‘I would say that you could forget I asked, but I want to know.’
‘Why? You must know that you are attractive. I have it on good authority that women are always admiring you.’
His skin turned a deeper shade of red. ‘Not me. They are admiring my title. I do not know that anyone has ever expressed an interest in me as a person.’
Her laughter faded away when she caught sight of his expression. ‘Oh. I thought you must be jesting. I do apologise for laughing.’
He shrugged and rummaged in the hamper. ‘It does not signify.’
Catching his arm, she stopped him. Her hand on his skin shocked them both, and for a moment the two of them could only stare at where their bodies touched.
‘Tobias.’ He looked up then, his gaze locking with hers. ‘You are ridiculously handsome. The thick, dark hair, the brooding scowl, the high cheekbones…’
‘Brooding scowl?’ he broke in before she could finish.
‘It lends you an air of mystery.’
He scoffed, but before he could speak again, she went on, ‘But those are only the surface things. Having been married to a wastrel, I cannot tell you how attractive it is to see a man who works hard for his family, who cares so deeply for them all, who puts their wellbeing before his own. You are strong, but kind. Firm, but loving. Too stubborn by half, but no one can be perfect. Except me,’ she added, because she feared the moment might be becoming too heavy, too close to a confession she did not want to give.
Because once he knew exactly how she felt about him, he would expect her to marry him in an instant.
He didn’t smile at her light-hearted ending.
His gaze was still fixed on hers. Slowly, softly, he moved towards her, brushing his lips against hers.
‘You are so beautiful it makes my heart hurt,’ he whispered against her skin.
‘Your curves drive me out of my mind, your quick smile brightens my day and when you laugh it makes me happy wherever I am.’ She chased his mouth, trying to deepen his kiss, but he had not finished speaking.
‘But those are only the surface things. You are determined to fight for those you love, yet soft when anyone gets close. You are quick to speak, yet not afraid to admit when you are wrong. You have courage most people can only dream of.’ His lips trailed over her cheek, her jaw, her neck, coming to rest over her pulse.
‘You are right when you say you are perfect. You are perfect for me.’
After that, he kissed her until she was desperate for the press of him over her, but no matter how much she pulled him towards her, he held himself apart. Neither of them won that day.