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Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Itold you that you would enjoy yourself.’ Sophie tried to sound casual after they tucked Fred and Archie in, even though her over-bright smile made her teeth ache. ‘You and Isobel seemed to have got on well.’ So well they had cosied up with one another, chatting for a good half an hour after the final waltz, and Rafe had to be chivvied by Archie to finish their laughing conversation and get into the carriage.
‘Isobel is great fun.’ Something about his wistful smile really galled. ‘Her parents are lovely too. They have invited me to dinner next week.’
‘Good heavens!’ She had to work hard not to sound churlish. ‘Doth my ears deceive me or have you made a friend in the village? Whatever next, Rafe, when you were so determined to despise them all.’
‘I can’t say I have any pleasant thoughts about Mrs Outhwaite. She proved to be as obnoxious tonight as she was the first time I heard her maligning me in the market square. I assume she is the one responsible for suggesting I murdered my wife under suspicious circumstances? You might have warned me that that was the egregious rumour, Sophie, as it came as quite a shock to discover that is what the Whittleston whingers all thought.’
‘I had forgotten she had said that.’
‘Well, you might have forgotten—but I had the devil of the job convincing some of your neighbours of the fact. I swear Mrs Harbottle, the baker’s wife, is convinced I left my imaginary spouse mouldering under my floorboards in Somerset with the rest of my rattling family skeletons.’ He laughed, unoffended, and shook his head. ‘Some aspects of village life are interchangeable wherever you go. They are all fuelled on gossip.’
‘If it is any consolation, most take everything Mrs Outhwaite says with a pinch of salt. I never believed you had shoved your imaginary wife under the floorboards.’
His feet slowed as they approached the facing doors of their bedchambers. ‘Are we friends again? I feel dreadful for using your grief for Michael as a weapon. That was wrong of me and I am sorry.’
‘And I feel dreadful for interfering in your affairs. You are the best brother in the world to Archie and...’ For some reason, only the truth felt appropriate. ‘In all honesty, I was in a foul mood before I gave you a piece of my mind. I had already lost my temper with Mrs Outhwaite and Mrs Fitzherbert and I took that out on you. Unfairly.’ She stared at her hands, heartily ashamed of what the women had tried to goad her into doing.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ His finger lifted her chin and he placed a soft kiss on her lips. ‘I missed you last night.’ Desire darkened his eyes. ‘Lie with me.’
‘About that...’ As much as she wanted to lose herself in his arms, she could not do it with all the guilt on her shoulders placed there by the villagers. ‘You should probably know that I lost my temper with the ladies because they implied that I should use my wiles on you to make you change your mind about selling.’ She risked peeking up at him, only to see him shrug.
‘That is actually not a bad plan.’ He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. ‘Certainly a better one than your barricade.’ He released the door with his free hand and tugged her inside. ‘And one that just might work.’
She expected the usual hurry to tear off each other’s clothes and tumble on the bed so they could get straight to the passion, but that did not happen. He seemed quite content to simply kiss her, something she realised they hadn’t indulged in that much before. They always kissed with hunger before and after the deed was done, but they did not linger like he was now. Savouring the taste of her mouth as if it were some exotic fruit. That both thrilled her and panicked her in equal measure because it felt too intimate. A ridiculous thought when she had given him free rein over her body since that first night.
She tried to deepen the kiss and he deflected, nibbling her ear and her jaw and her neck, so she wrestled with the knot of his cravat to speed things up, only to have him catch her wrists gently in his and lower them to her sides. ‘Finally, I have two working arms, so I am in charge tonight, witch.’
Her pulse ratcheted up several notches. Excitement again tinged with panic at relinquishing her control. Rafe like this was dangerous. Already every nerve ending was fizzing with anticipation. Her body melting beneath his tender ministrations. Aching. Wanting. Powerless to detach from the emotion in her heart.
He took his own sweet time undressing her while he kissed her. Peeling off every layer with reverence while teasing her with his caress. Her breathing was laboured by the time she stood before him naked, her body so desperate to join with his that her limbs were weak with anticipation. Her fingers shook as she tried to undress him and again he denied her the right. Instead, he lifted her and kissed her deeply before he laid her on the mattress, then held her gaze as he stripped himself bare.
Stood proud, naked, aroused in the lamplight, he took her breath away. Yet again, despite the obvious readiness of his body, he was still determined to take his time. He sat beside her on the mattress and traced only a single fingertip over her sensitised flesh. Face, lips, neck. Then he repeated his lazy trail with his lips.
Collarbone, upper arm, breast. Only replacing his finger with his lips when her nipples were so tight they ached. She tried to reciprocate. Tried to drag his big body down to her, but Rafe was having none of it. He sat back, his blue eyes shimmering with hunger as they raked the length of her. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that I am in charge tonight, minx?’ He grazed her abdomen with his dratted fingertip, watching its progress as it wandered over her navel and down into the soft curls below where they stopped short of where she needed it to be. He smiled at the involuntary arch of her hips as her body strained for release. ‘The more you rebel against me, the more I will dig my heels in.’ Then the timbre of the smile changed from one of smugness to one of wonder as he drank in the sight of her. ‘God, you are beautiful, Sophie Gilbert. So beautiful I consider myself the luckiest man alive.’
The intensity of the blue in his eyes told her he meant it. The tenderness of his touch, the way each caress felt like a worship, told her he also cared about her. Out of nowhere, his angry parting shot from their argument yesterday whispered fragmented through her brain.
You hide your heart like a coward...
Keep the rest of mankind at arm’s length...
You are scared that there is one of us here in the land of the living who might just have the gall to measure up...
Was he putting himself forward as a candidate? Jaded Rafe who preferred horses to people? Who was determined to sell this mausoleum and escape from all the human race as soon as possible? No...
No.Surely not.
‘You don’t have to be jealous of Isobel Cartwright.’ Words she both needed to hear and wished she hadn’t. ‘She doesn’t hold a candle to you, my darling.’
Darling?Her frightened heart stuttered at the endearment. Her head though—that wanted to run screaming for the hills.
She wanted to remind him of the parameters. Remind him that theirs was a physical relationship because it wasn’t just her body he was currently seducing. It was something else. He was forcing her to feel her own emotions. Forcing her to feel his. But he had dipped his tormenting finger between her soft folds to worship her core and then she could barely think at all.
If she feared the intimacy of his kisses, his next scandalously intimate kiss sent her spiralling into the unknown. Not even Michael’s mouth had tasted between her thighs before. It had never occurred to either of them to try it, but Rafe was more of a man of the world and he had clearly loved many women because he knew how to play her body like an instrument. Within seconds, she was moaning and writhing on the mattress until her climax smashed into her like a tidal wave, robbing her of both breath and thought as she sank back onto the pillows boneless with stars in her eyes.
When she surfaced from the sensual fog, he was lying on top of her, the ghost of smile on his lips and blatant affection in his intuitive eyes. ‘My turn.’ He swallowed her giggle in another searing kiss and refused to budge when she tried to turn him onto his back. ‘And I am in charge.’ Yet they both knew he would not move a muscle unless she agreed to it.
