“I believe they are onions.”
Rafe eyed the tall green stalks dubiously and, seeming to come to terms with her statement, made a thoughtful sound, and they continued on their way. “So, a walk amongst the peas and onions was the perfect thing for a day such as this?”
Victoria plucked a pod from the vine and shelled it, popping one of the sun-warmed peas between her lips. It burst with sweetness, reminding her of summers in her grandmother’s kitchen. “Flower gardens are lovely, but a treat while you stroll is so much better.” She held up another pea between her thumb and forefinger. Rafe’s eyes flicked between the pea and her face until he finally registered what she was offering. His lips parted, and she popped the pea between his lips. A gasp escaped her throat when his teeth grazed the pad of her finger. Somehow, an invisible string was drawn directly from her finger to the spot between her thighs that suddenly began to throb with every beat of her heart.
“It’s a shame that strawberries aren’t in season,” Rafe murmured. Victoria was unable to tear her eyes away from his lips. “They’re much more satisfying to feed to your lover than shelled peas.”
Victoria’s cheeks caught fire and she resumed walking, inadvertently tugging him along with her as she did so. She cleared her throat and determinedly changed the subject. “How did Dominic enjoy fishing?” Rafe had spent the middle of the day with his nephew at the fishing pond. The groundskeeper hadprovided all the necessary equipment for a day of angling, much to the lad’s excitement. Victoria had helped the cook organize a picnic of sorts for them to enjoy while they were on their outing.
“I learned something quite interesting,” he replied drily.
“Oh?”
“I am quite atrocious at catching fish.”
An unladylike bark of laughter burst free from Victoria. She couldn’t help it—she hadn’t expected that declaration. “I was under the impression that you were going to be a sufficient tutor.”
“Apparently not.”
“So your over-inflated sense of masculine confidence proved faulty then?”
Rafe narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve done it a few times. How difficult could it be to show someone else?”
“Too difficult, apparently,” Victoria sniggered.
“It takes a great deal more patience than I remember,” he groused.
“Exactly how long has it been since you last went fishing?”
He lifted his head toward the sky and squinted his eyes in thought. “Kempton and Brinley dragged me along because they hadn’t believed my father had never taken me. I think it was before University.”
“So at least a decade ago?” She laughed incredulously. “Whyever did you believe that qualified you to teach Dominic?”
“Listen here, you little minx…” Abruptly, he turned her and caged her body with his against the stone wall of the gardens. Victoria hadn’t realized they’d traversed the length of the garden and exited the grounds protected by a wall that reached just over her head. With Rafe craning his neck and leaning into her as he was, both of them would have been hidden from view of the kitchens and any of the rear-facing windows in The Cottage. “I’ve had just about enough of your teasing,” Rafe said. His voicewas a low rumble that reverberated through his chest, across the scant space between them, and into hers. It sank into her heart, her lungs, her blood, her very bones. She might have been intimidated by his size were it not for that mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Despite his words, he was enjoying her teasing…and he was teasing her back.
“I wouldn’t tease if there wasn’t an occasion for it,” she replied, only slightly breathlessly.
“Oh?” His silken tone made her skin prickle with awareness. His face was so close to hers; his body, so intoxicatingly near. She felt his knee and thigh brushing the fabric between her legs. If she tilted her pelvis even a little, he would be pressed against the damp, sensitive flesh screaming for his attention.
The demanding ache had only grown worse with every brush of his hand on hers, every tender moment she witnessed between him and his wards, each smile he shared with her. If Victoria were honest with herself, she would admit that her physical desire for her husband had never wavered since their wedding night; if anything, it had simmered beneath the surface, growing stronger with each new piece she learned about him, and bided its time until just such a moment when they were alone…and he had her at his mercy. She pressed her palms into the weathered stone wall at her back, cursing its lack of purchase after the surface had been worn smooth from centuries of nature.
“I used to fish every summer,” she said a little hoarsely. “I am confident that Dominic would flourish beneath my instruction.”
“You think you know more than I do?” he asked, not unkindly. He was continuing their game.
“At least in this regard.” Her breath hitched when his nose grazed her cheek. Was he smelling her?
No.
Scenting herwas a better description of his deep, slow inhalation—like a hound and his ill-fated prey. Her body trembled in anticipation rather than fear.
How many nights had she lain awake wondering what it would feel like to have Rafe devour her again? To make her world shatter into a million glittering pieces, only to put her back together and do it all again…and again…?
Nearly every night since their wedding.
Whether she wished him to or not, her husband visited her nearly every waking and sleeping thought. He’d charmed his way back past the rudimentary defenses she’d rebuilt since learning of his steadfast aversion to allowing deeper emotions between them. The rake had that way about him, and Victoria could well see how so many members of London Society were consistently won over by him.
“S—Surely, there are a great many things you might teach me, even if fishing is not one of them,” she finally added.
