Chapter 13
Rayna
When Rayna and Dominic were leaving the stables the previous day, Declan Griffin invited them over for a family dinner that he said Victor and George would be attending too.
So on Friday evening, Rayna wore a warm prickle of awareness on her skin, along with a calf-length split-skirt and a fitted T-shirt as she knocked on the Griffins’ farmhouse door.
“Dominic,” she grumbled, glancing across to him. “Stop staring at my legs.”
His gaze snapped up, and the sleepy glaze that coated his irises had her fingers tightening around the small bouquet in her hand. “It is not simply your legs I cannot take my eyes off, sweetheart,” he muttered hoarsely. “You…”
He faded off as his throat bobbed slowly, and the heat under Rayna’s skin stroked down her midsection with more purpose.
If it hadn’t been for the bowl of salad in his hands, she was entirely sure he would have pounced and pinned her to the grass so he could paw her all over.
At least, that’s what his feverish eyes were telling her.
“I am at war with myself,” he admitted. “I cannot for the life of me decide if I ought to cover you up and scold you for your state of undress or allow myself to admire how delightful you look. I feel as though I am losing all sense of propriety around you.”
Rayna grunted automatically. “Losing? When did you ever have it?”
There wasn’t a day or damn freaking chance that he let pass without flirting with her or ogling her, and that was excluding all the unprovoked erections he tried to hide.
His mouth flourished in a lopsided grin. “I assure you, sweet Rayna, I was a very proper gentleman before meeting you.”
She looked away with a playfully disbelieving roll of her eyes just before the front door to the Griffins’ house flew open.
“Ah, there you two are,” Declan said with a cheerful grin with Boris circling behind him.
He greeted them individually and closed the door behind them. Then Rayna led the way, with Boris bounding ahead of her through the straight corridor to the back of the farmhouse.
It was almost structured the same as the one she and Dominic were staying in, with a living room on one side, stairs on the opposite, and a short corridor to the bathroom and utility tucked behind that. But the kitchen-diner was a much bigger L-shaped area with views that overlooked the river.
There was an old-school wood kitchen in the top right and a dining table in the bottom corner that could seat eight.
It was tied together by the cozy sitting space on the left with two dark-brown leather sofas perpendicular to each other, a big TV screen attached to the wall, and a bunch of wooden and glass knick-knacks that embodied the stories of the Griffins’ lives.
“Winnie, my love,” Declan called. “Tear yourself away from the cooker for a second. They’re here.”
Winnie Griffin threw a quick glance over her shoulder from where she was stirring the contents of a big, orange pot on the stove. Her bright, blue eyes popped wide in delight as her low ponytail of curly, blonde hair swished against her back.
“Oh, Rayna dear,” she chirped. “One moment.”
With another stir, she set the wooden spatula down and popped a lid on the pot. Then sashayed her curvaceous figure over to them with the biggest of grins that epitomised who she was.
The sweet, elegant, vivacious woman and mother of three had endless amounts of love and attention to give in every detail of her life.
Maybe that was why even at the age of fifty-three, her skin still glowed, and her freckled cheeks were always rosy.
That didn’t, however, mean she didn’t have a fiery streak to fear when someone crossed her.
But Declan Griffin never let a single bad word reach his beloved wife, so Winnie rarely ever had a reason to be angry.
“Sweetie, how are you?” Winnie said and engulfed Rayna in a squishing hug as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.
“I’m good,” Rayna sang and cuddled into the woman. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been wonderful, dear.”
Rayna held out the handpicked bouquet. “These are for you.”
The older woman placed a hand over her heart and cooed happily. “Oh, they’re absolutely gorgeous. Thank you, dearest.” She took them in her arm then snuck a teasing glance at her husband. “At least you brought me flowers this week.”
Declan’s brows hooked up at the obvious insinuation, and he prowled towards her with a playful smirk. “You know exactly why I didn’t, my love. So don’t you dare try to stir trouble and make me look like a bad husband.”
The woman chuckled as Declan planted a nipping kiss on her cheek. He swiped the flowers out of her hand and instructed Boris to sit as he moved away.
Winnie then turned to Dominic, who’d been quietly observing by Rayna’s side. “I do apologise, Lord Norland, I haven’t yet introduced myself, have I? I’m Winnie Griffin, and it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
Dominic hugged the covered bowl of salad in one arm and bowed over Winnie’s outstretched hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Griffin.” He planted a soft kiss against her knuckles and rose, his eyes sparkling with a princely smile. “And please, call me Dominic.”
“Then do call me Aunt Win. Mrs Griffin sounds far too formal.”
He gave her an acquiescing nod. “Then, Aunt Win, please accept my gratitude for the delicious meal you provided us on my first day here. I do believe that was the best stew I have ever had the privilege of tasting.”
The pink under the older woman’s cheeks heightened as she waved a hand around. “It needed five more minutes in the pot, but I’m delighted to hear you enjoyed it.” She gestured to the bowl in his arms while looking at Rayna. “What did you go and make, dear?”
“Just some salad.”
“Oh, Rayna,” her aunt cooed. “You didn’t have to. But that was lovely of you.” Dominic set the bowl in Winnie’s outstretched hands. “Well, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready, so I hope you’re hungry.”
“Do you need—” Rayna started.
“Oh, no.” Winnie waved her off as she headed towards the kitchen. Boris plodded after her. “Your uncle is going to lay the table, so you and Dominic just relax. He’ll pour you drinks too.”
“Are V and George on their way?” Rayna asked, taking two steps to drop her small handbag down on the round coffee table tucked in the corner of the two sofas.
“Yes, George messaged that they were ten minutes away about five minutes ago,” her uncle said, pulling several glasses out of one wall cupboard.
“What about Benedict? Is he working a late shift today?”
Just as the question left her mouth, a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and rattled her like a pair of dice. She tore around to face a younger version of Declan Griffin, but with the bright blue eyes of his mother.
“Benedict,” she snapped, and he flinched back, cackling proudly.
Once upon a time, Benedict Griffin had been the scrawny boy with his nose stuck in books about the human body and dinosaurs, who Rayna and George had protected from bullies in school.
But somewhere between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, the world took tweezers to his head and feet and stretched him until he stood nearly half a head taller than his dad.
Now at the age of twenty-six, regular rugby sessions with George had helped bulk out his frame. But with barely a hair on his chin, he still had that nerdy, boyish look to him with a twinkling smile, pale golden skin, and floppy brown hair that he tended to keep on the shorter side.
Throw in the fact he’d recently graduated as a doctor, and it was easy to see why he attracted men and women alike.
Thankfully, his parents’ upbringing had kept his ego from inflating as a result.
And when he needed to be brought back down, Rayna and George never failed to remind him of the sobbing, snot bubbles he’d blown all those years ago.
“You freaking cracked my neck, you idiot,” Rayna said, raising her hand to whack him.
He put his palms up to protect himself, still giggling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You were standing with your back to me. I just had to.”
His blue irises danced as he stood there grinning, while Rayna reasoned with her annoyance.
“Hello,” he said with the quiet cheekiness of a brother who knew he was safe from harm now that he had the advantage of height and size.
Rayna’s lips edged into a smile as she sighed and shook her head. “Hello to you too, you dumbass.”
Benedict chuckled, then trapped her in a quick bear hug, nearly squeezing her up off the floor. “How are you? How was your holiday? I haven’t seen you since you came back, have I?”
“I’m good, it was great, and no, you haven’t. You were working the day we moved in. How have you been?”
“Yeah, good. Hospital shifts are still tough, but uh…” With an awkward scratch at his temple, Benedict bent towards Rayna. “Why’s he, uh…glaring at me?”
“Who?” Rayna said as she searched for the “he” in question and stilled when she found him.
Dominic.
And well…he was glaring. Holding a glass of juice in each hand as Boris dropped his favourite chew toy at Dominic’s feet, hoping he’d play with him.
But Dominic didn’t look like he was in any mood to play with that dark scowl, his permanently shadowed jaw rocking from side to side as his eyes flicked between her and Benedict.
He didn’t seem angry exactly, not in the way he’d looked at Victor at least, but the deep twist between his brows seemed to crinkle between confusion, irritation, accusation, and betrayal as if she’d broken a sacred promise.
Which made no utter sense, unless...unless…
Was he fucking jealous? Again? Of Benedict? Seriously?