Clara spent an hour in her room with her maid, unpacking her things and freshening up after the journey from London. Then she met Seger in the drawing room at the agreed upon time.
He took her on a tour of the house, which she enjoyed immensely for it was a wonderful house, full of antiquities and art as well as all the modern conveniences. Then they ventured outdoors to the stables where a groom was waiting for them, with two horses saddled.
She and Seger went riding over the green hills and through the trees along a narrow river. Seger told her about the childhood games he used to play with two boys who were sons of a nearby squire. He showed her the squire’s house from a distance and wondered if the family still lived there.
“Would you like to call on them?” Clara asked, but Seger said no, reminding her that this was their time to be alone together.
“Another day,” he said, and Clara felt a rush of happiness.
Later, they arrived at a lake, and decided to give the horses a rest. Seger dismounted and tethered his gelding, then helped Clara down, too.
“Shall we walk?” he suggested.
A short time later, they sat down on the grass in the shade of some towering oaks. Seger leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles. He stared at the calm lake.
There was not even the hint of a breeze. Clara breathed in the clean, damp scent of the water and listened to the birds chirping. The trees were still.
“It’s so peaceful here. I believe I could come every day and just sit here and do nothing but daydream.” She gazed up at the leafy branches over her head, blocking her view of the sky.
Seger said nothing. He was very quiet.
She watched him for a moment or two and wished she knew what he was thinking about, then it occurred to her that he might be thinking about Daphne. Remembering....
Clara felt a tightening sensation in her stomach and cleared her throat. Maybe she should suggest that they leave now and go back to the house. They could go to her bedchamber. They hadn’t made love yet. Perhaps they could steal some time before dinner.
Then she reminded herself that she had come to Rawdon Hall with her husband get to know him better. To forge a deeper connection between them—a connection that continued outside of the bedroom.
“Does all this remind you of Daphne?” Clara gently asked him.
He met her gaze and he looked surprised at first, then his face softened. “Yes.”
Clara tried not to feel hurt that he was thinking about another woman now, in this beautiful, idyllic place, when she was thinking of no one but him.
Wanting him to feel that she was offering comfort—andnotwanting him to know that she was fighting a pang of jealousy—she reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Did you come here with her often?” Clara asked.
“All the time. We used to swim over there.” He pointed.
Clara didn’t know what to say next. He seemed melancholy and was particularly quiet.
Finally, Seger turned to her. “It was a long time ago, Clara. Don’t think that I still want her. I wantyou.”
Clara took in a breath as he leaned toward her and cupped her head in his hand, pulled her close for a kiss. She moaned blissfully at the feel of his mouth on hers and his tongue parting her lips and venturing inside. The kiss was full of reassurance—intentional reassurance, she believed. It was unlike any other kiss they’d shared.
Perhaps they did know each other in certain ways, she thought. Her husband wanted to soothe her. He did not want her to feel like she was second choice.
Gently, he laid her onto the soft grass and came down upon her, tilting his head this way and that as he kissed her. With roving hands, he reached lower and raised her skirts. The sensation of his fingers feathering over her thighs roused her senses and caused a flurry of butterflies deep inside her belly.
Oh, how she needed to be the object of his desire at that moment. She wrapped her legs around him and held him close as he kissed her neck, his hot breath tickling her skin and filling her with need.
“Let’s make new memories,” she whispered in his ear. “I love it here, Seger.”
Her husband recognized the passion in her voice. Sensitive lover that he was, always willing to answer to a lady’s longings, he called up his extraordinary charms.
Clara felt beautiful, as if she were the most important person in the world to him. He had such a talent in that regard. All he had to do was smile suggestively, and she opened to him like a spring flower.
Glancing down with teasing eyes, he unbuttoned the top of her bodice and kissed along her collarbone.
