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“I don’t want to argue any more this afternoon.”
He pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hand running slowly up and down the curve of her waist. Her body sparked, igniting at the mere touch of him as it always did. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that she shouldn’t want this. Not when his heart might be engaged elsewhere, with a woman living under the very same roof. And yet she was too human, too flawed to pull away when he kissed her neck and sent desire coursing through her.
“We’ve an hour before the bell for supper,” he said against her skin.
They were no closer to an understanding about any of what they’d just argued about, but all of the fight had gone out of her for the afternoon. She wanted to lose herself and forget for just a little while.
“Then I suggest we use it wisely,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair to pull him into a kiss.
Chapter Nineteen
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Gavin sat in front of the crackling fire in Oak Park’s large library, a book on his knee. It was opened to a page halfway through the first chapter of the novel Moray had wanted him to write about before he left, but in truth he’d hardly looked at the words for the last ten minutes.
Gavin was at an impasse. While he called Edinburgh home, Oak Park had served that role long before he’d moved. He might not have been the favorite son, but he still knew every nook and cranny of the attics he’d played in as a child. He still knew the names of some of the tenants who’d farmed there for decades. The sweet smell of the land, freshened by sea breezes, was familiar in a way Edinburgh never would be.
Now he was responsible for the future of the entire estate. He felt the weight of obligation and duty in a way he never could’ve before, because it hadn’t been his destiny. Yet here he was, a baronet.
He wasn’t a single man, at liberty to make a decision with only his conscience guiding him. There was Ina to consider. She’d put her life on hold for his family without a second thought, and for that he was grateful, but she needed to understand that their lives had changed the moment he’d assumed the title.
All of those quite rational arguments aside, however, he knew he’d stepped in it when he suggested that she might not be able to exhibit this year. They’d been mid-argument and he hadn’t been thinking straight. All he’d known was the certainty that he couldn’t do this without her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rub away the memory of the look of betrayal she’d thrown at him. He’d make it up to her. He’d figure out a way.
Perhaps if he could arrange to have Ina’s studio transported to Oak Park he might satisfy both of them. And he could invite her friends down for a visit . . .
But that would never work. His mother wouldn’t dream of allowing three women to stay with them when the family was so fresh in mourning—never mind that his mother would view a carriage full of Bohemians with the same warmth as she would invading Vikings.
He could see now that Ina had mentioned it, that the tension between his wife and his mother was thick enough to cut. He should’ve addressed it days ago, but the prospect exhausted him after long hours reviewing Chase’s account books and riding across the estate to handle various tenant disputes. It would be easier to simply allow the conflict between his mother and Ina to simmer and trust that both women would control their dislike for one another until the estate was in order and he and Ina could leave.
Still, he made a note to inquire into the delays in preparing the dower house. It really would be best for them all.
Ina shook out the skirt of her black moiré silk dress and adjusted the white lace cuffs at her sleeves. Already she missed her regular clothes. It’d be months before she could transition to the lavender, gray, and white of half mourning, and a little longer still until she could welcome real color into her life again.
One thing was certain, however. She would not be spending her entire period of mourning in this dreadful house. Her argument with Gavin the previous day might’ve ended in bed, but it was far from over. She would make him declare a date when they would leave, and this time she wouldn’t let herself be distracted and placated by her need for his touch.
Ina walked into the drawing room where the family gathered before supper every night, seeking out Gavin. Lady Sophia was perched in a chair, arms spread on the rests like a queen surveying her throne room, and Grace had a piece of needlework in her hand. Ina had hardly spoken a word to Grace outside of the usual pleasantries since learning that Gavin had once loved her. She’d never blame the woman for what had happened long ago, but the knowledge that her husband had loved Grace—a real flesh and blood woman and not some amorphous, anonymous mystery—had left her too raw.
Grace had known what Ina would never know: Gavin’s love. He’d written words of worship he’d never bestowed on Ina, and he never would. She’d forever be the second woman—the one who’d forced him into a marriage he’d never wanted.
Still, she couldn’t help a little thrill when the doors swung open and Gavin walked straight up to her to press a kiss to her cheek. Even though her wounds from their fight still stung, he was her husband and since the night in the ruined abbey that had come to mean something more.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said quietly.
Her heart softened a little. “And you’re rather handsome yourself. Did you have a good day with Mr. Chase?”
“Gavin,” called Lady Sophia from across the room before he could answer, “what was Mr. Chase doing with a letter to Lord Weathersby this afternoon?”
Gavin’s gaze shifted to his mother. “I didn’t realize that you’d formed an interest in my correspondence, Mother.”
It was a pointed remark—a warning. Lady Sophia, however, would not be deterred.
“Lord Weathersby is known for his fine racing stock,” said Ina’s mother-in-law.
“He’s also made it known that he wishes to expand his stables.”
“And why would you be writing to him?” asked Lady Sophia.
“I imagine you can draw that conclusion for yourself.”
