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Melinda said wistfully, “I wish I could stay for the County Show. It’s been years and I’m feeling so...sentimental about old times lately.”
Brooke’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t you? You can come with us.”
“But I need to get back.”
“So go. Come back in the morning. Isn’t Fresh closed on Sundays?”
“But it’s a long drive, hours each way.”
“Take the train.”
“On Sunday? It’s not practical.” Melinda sipped her coffee. “It’s so strange. As the years go by, I find I miss home—and Hartmore Village is home to me—though when I was growing up, I couldn’t wait to get away.”
Eloise set down her full plate and pulled out the chair on Genny’s left. “Why not just stay? Have a nice, relaxed visit with your parents in the village. Go back on Monday—or tomorrow evening, if you must. You won’t make it to London before noon today anyway.”
“Granny’s right,” insisted Brooke. “You’ll have more time with your mum and dad. They’ll appreciate that. And then you’ll stay with us here at Hartmore, of course.”
About then, Genny was starting to feel like a jealous cow. She ought to behave like a proper hostess, to chime in and urge Melinda to stay, as the woman so obviously longed to do. But both she and Rafe had sat silent through the whole discussion about whether or not Melinda ought to go. Genny, because she suspected Melinda was after her husband. Rafe, because he knew what Genny suspected.
And truly, Genny now doubted herself on the issue. There had only been that one glance the other morning. Was she really so certain she’d seen it at all?
Melinda murmured hesitantly, “I could call my store manager, see if she’s getting on all right without me....”
And Genny couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes, why don’t you? Stay the weekend. We’d all love to have you.”
* * *
“Not one word,” Genny muttered out of the side of her mouth as she and Rafe walked beneath the oaks on their way to the stables.
He grabbed her arm, pulled her off the path and backed her up against one of the enormous old tree trunks, bracing his hands to either side of her, boxing her in. “It’s your fault she’s staying, you know.” He looked infuriatingly pleased with himself.
She made a face at him. “Oh, don’t rub it in. It just seemed rude, the two of us sitting there not saying anything...”
He leaned closer, whispered, “Admit it. She’s a nice woman with no interest in me whatsoever, beyond a pleasant sort of friendliness. You had it all wrong about her.”
“But I could have sworn...”
He bent even closer. Now his wonderful mouth was just inches from hers. “Admit it.”
Genny gave it up. “Fine. Maybe I misunderstood that look she gave you.”
He brushed his lips against hers. She tried not to sigh in delight and leaned into him. He pulled back. “Only maybe?”
She turned her head away. “I don’t want to kiss you anyway.”
“Liar.” And he caught her chin in his hand and turned it back.
And then, at last, he kissed her. A lovely, lingering sort of kiss. A kiss just deep enough to make her knees go to jelly and turn the butterflies loose in her stomach.
When he finally lifted his head she stared up at him dreamily. “Melinda? Who’s Melinda?”
He laughed.
She studied his wonderful wreck of a face. “You seem...happier lately.”
He rubbed the back of his index finger along the side of her throat, bringing a sweet little shiver to skitter beneath the surface of her skin. His eyes gleamed as black as polished agates. “Marriage must agree with me.”
Her heart lifted and the words were right there, at the base of her throat, pushing to get free. I’ve fallen in love with you, Rafe. I’m so happy that I married you. She longed to say it. It should be so easy. How could she go wrong to tell him she loved him?
No matter if he didn’t feel the same, he would never be cruel about it. He would let her down gently, at least....
But gentle or not, it would hurt if he didn’t feel the same. It would hurt no matter how kind and understanding he was about it.
And that was ridiculous. Because he seemed happy. And she was happy.
And maybe rather than bringing the big, fat L word into the equation, she ought to exercise a little good sense and leave wonderful enough alone.
His eyes had grown guarded. “What’s the matter?”
And she said, “Nothing. Nothing at all.” And really, there wasn’t. Just her silly heart aching to know if he loved her as she loved him. She slid her hand down his arm and clasped his fingers. “Come on. Let’s have that ride.”
