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Genny stared at him for several endless seconds, right into his black, black eyes.
“What?” he demanded. And then he whispered, “Please don’t say you don’t believe me.”
“I do believe you,” she said at last. And she did. “Absolutely.”
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Thank God for that.”
She chewed her lower lip. “I just don’t understand what Fiona meant that night.”
“She was drunk, remember? Drunks say incoherent things.”
“Yes. I suppose so....”
He stood and held down his hand. “Enough for now. We’re both tired. Come to bed.”
She looked up at him. And there was that welling feeling within her, a sensation both painful and pleasurable at once. A rising feeling, a sense of something overflowing.
Love.
Oh, she did love him. So very much. She ached with it—and yet never quite managed to tell him about it. The moment was never right.
And tonight...?
No way. Not tonight. She wasn’t saying I love you, Rafe, with the image of him and Melinda so fresh in her mind.
“Take my hand, Gen.”
That, she could manage. She put her fingers in his.
He pulled her up and led her into the bedroom. They undressed and got into bed. He switched off the light.
She turned on her side and scooted away from him, but he only reached out, pulled her close and spooned himself around her. It felt good.
Really good. With a sigh, she let sleep carry her away.
* * *
Genny woke to find the morning sun streaming in the front window. Rafe stood staring out, his broad back to the bed. He was fully dressed in tan trousers and a knit shirt.
Genny dragged herself to a sitting position against the pillows and pulled up the blankets to cover her bare breasts. “Rafe?” He turned to her. “Have you already been down to breakfast?”
He looked strangely determined. “No. I waited for you.”
She blinked sleep from her eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s almost ten.” She thought about that snack he’d never gotten to eat last night. “You must be starving.”
“No way was I leaving this room without you. Not with Melinda in the house.”
“Oh, please. I said I believe you about last night. And I meant it. I think you’re being a little extreme.”
He squared his huge shoulders. “You’re angry with me.”
“No, not angry. Just...”
“Disappointed, then.”
“All right, yes. A little disappointed.” Admit the rest, her conscience chided. So she muttered, “And jealous, too.”
His expression softened. “You have no reason to be.”
She stared at him steadily. “I’ll get over it. Go on down and eat.”
“Get up and come with me.”
“It’ll take me a few minutes....”
He dropped into the slipper chair by the window. “I’ll wait.”
* * *
Brooke and Fiona were alone in the breakfast room sipping coffee and whispering heatedly together when Genny and Rafe got there. They served themselves and sat across from the two women.
Rafe asked, “Where’s everyone?”
Brooke said, “Geoffrey’s gone off with Granny and the dogs. They’ve promised to be back by noon at the latest to get cleaned up for the party.”
Genny doggedly poked a bite of sausage into her mouth and waited for him to ask the important question.
Finally, he did. “And Melinda?”
Fiona groaned.
Brooke said, “She’s gone, just like that. She left practically at the crack of dawn, Frances told me. She gave Frances a note for me.”
“Ah,” said Rafe. Genny could hear the relief in his voice.
But Brooke was not pleased. “The note was three lines. She had to go. She was sorry. There was an emergency in London. She gave no details. None. I have no idea what happened, but it makes no sense to me.”
Fiona sniffed. “Rather rude of her, I must say.”
Brooke shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what to think. I hope she’s all right....”
Fiona made a humphing sound.
Rafe said nothing. Genny didn’t, either. What was there to say?
* * *
The children from the village began arriving with their parents at a few minutes before two. There were twenty of them total, twelve boys and eight girls, ranging in age from eight to ten. A few of the parents stayed on for the party, but most dropped off the youngsters and promised to return at six to collect them.
At two-fifteen, Fiona’s chauffeur arrived with the twins. He dropped them off and left.
It was a warm, sunny day and Brooke had planned on two hours on the waterslide and in the pool first. She’d set up a pair of changing tents—one for the boys, one for the girls—out by the jetty. The children handed their gifts to Frances, who took them to the terrace. Then Brooke and Fiona herded them toward the tents.
