Page 43 of The Rake's Bride
She watched as the black of his pupils nearly swallowed the deep, striated blue of his irises entirely. The flaring of his nostrils and parting of his perfectly formed lips were evidence of his interest in her words. Though she hadn’t meant the words solely as an entendre, she’d deeply intrigued him.
“I am certain…” he began and paused before starting again. “I am certain you are correct in that regard, Victoria.” He bent his head and ran his parted lips along the column of her throat so gently it felt as if a butterfly’s wings had left gooseflesh in their wake. She wanted to hear him say her name in that deep, husky tone at least once a day for the rest of her life. “And, should you desire it, you need only ask, and I will gladly tutor you in any subject you deem fit.” His teeth caught the lobe of her ear for only a moment, sending a jolt of pain-laced pleasure arcing through her. It was done so swiftly that she almost believed she’d imagined it.
Victoria had been so lost in Rafe’s words that she hadn’t realized her eyes had slid closed until they fluttered open, nor was she aware that her hands had moved from the wall behind her until she had to force them to release their white-knuckled grip on the navy-blue lapels of Rafe’s coat. She hastily wiped her damp palms on her butter-yellow skirts and forced herself to take a bracing breath of country air. Unfortunately for her, it was tinged with more than a hint of Rafe’s masculine scent. She nearly whimpered from weakness.
And, of course, Rafe could see how he affected her.
Without any regard for her aching body or her pudding-soft knees, he tugged her arm through his once more and practically dragged her into motion. He guided her back onto the worn dirt path leading from the back gate of the kitchen gardens toward the fields sprinkled with blue and white wildflowers she could not name.
“Where are we going?” Victoria demanded weakly, still more than a little off kilter from the abrupt shift in tone and activity.
“I thought we were taking a walk?” he asked, feigning surprise. “Were we meant to do something else?” He turned his head to look at her, and she felt the suggestive caress of his gaze as tangibly as if he’d run his large hands over every inch of her naked body.
“No. Well, yes. I mean—” Victoria released a puff of frustration through pursed lips. “Yes, we are walking together.”
He nodded decisively. “Very good. I believe we should have ample time to reach the distant sheep field and return before we need to prepare for supper.”
She stepped on a pebble and winced as it bit through the thin soles of her slippers. “I am hardly wearing the proper shoes for such an outing such as that. Had you given me notice, I might have changed.”
“I much prefer spontaneity.” He was so lighthearted and cheery—so different from the velvety seductiveness she’d so recently experienced from him. “Besides, I shall carry you if you require it.”
She laughed again. “Carry me? All that way?”
“My dear, I would carry you to the moon and back if you asked it of me.”
Victoria’s eyes flew to her husband, but he offered her only his impassive profile.
Do not read too much into what he said,she reminded herself.He is a habitual charmer.
And, while his intentions may not have been malicious in the least, she did not doubt that such sweet and solicitous words often passed his lips without a second thought. It was in his nature to flirt. That did not mean he felt anything deeper than friendly affection and physical attraction.
It did not.
It did not.
It did not…
Chapter Nineteen
Rafe was stillmulling over his unthinking comment to Victoria in the kitchen gardens when he descended the stairs for supper that evening. Whatever had possessed him to make such a fanciful offer? Furthermore, why had he meant the absurd declaration?
She addled him.
He’d spent far too long pining after, contemplating all the ways he found her attractive, pricking his ears waiting for just the sound of her laughter. And all without ever again enjoying the heaven that was her body.
He had, indeed, dragged her on that ill-advised walk that afternoon, though they hadn’t made it nearly as far as he’d intended before Victoria’s slippers began to trouble her. In truth, he’d had no desire to explore the expansive fields surrounding The Cottage and had only wanted to expend some of the energy she ignited within him.
He could have gladly taken her right there against the kitchen garden wall—just hiked up her skirts, pulled her leg over his hip, and thrust into her until they were both screaming in release—but he’d managed to hold himself in check. Barely. He’d reminded himself that that was how a man treated his mistress, not his wife…unless she asked for it.
The instantaneous image of Victoria begging him for just such treatment was quite possibly one of the most eroticimaginings of his life, and Rafe had had more than his fair share of them.
Victoria hadn’t complained about the walk; however, as soon as he saw a hitch in her gait, he was true to his word and immediately scooped her into his arms. With an about-face turn, they headed back the way they’d come, and he steadfastly ignored every one of his wife’s protests that she was fine and more than capable of returning home under her own power.
“I do not doubt your determination in the slightest,” he’d replied, trying his best not to become overly excited by the feel of her wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body more closely to his where he held her high against his chest. “But I’ll not be accused of abuse when you are unable to walk properly for the next few days.” There were far more pleasurable ways to hinder a woman’s ability to walk comfortably. Or sit. Or ride a horse.
He’d barely stifled a groan at the possibilities.
Once back at The Cottage, they’d gone their separate ways to bathe and prepare for the evening meal. Rafe may or may not have taken advantage of the solitary time to abuse himself to his mind’s creative images of Victoria… Who was he fooling? Of course he had pumped into his tight fist until the image of his wife’s parted lips and passion-glazed eyes sent him over the edge.
