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Jason and Noreen Adley, the Marquis and Marchioness of Rockwell.Adjusting her glasses, she stared hard at their photos.Tall, lanky guy, tall lanky woman.A match made in heaven.
She closed her eyes, repeating their names over and over before flipping to the next page. And so it went on, and she was already on the fifth page when the sound of galloping hooves reached her.
By the time she lifted her head, Rathe was a few feet away, seated astride his favorite stallion.
Viking was the largest Thoroughbred she had ever seen, but it was the sight of the duke that mesmerized her into speechlessness. She couldn’t help smiling when she observed Rathe’s d oh-so-proper attire for riding, with his white long-sleeved shirt, tan-colored breeches, and field boots. For most men, shirts and jeans would have sufficed. But then, Rathe wasnotlike most men.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Rathe said as he and Viking came to a halt in front of her.
Her cheeks dimpled. “G-good. Maybe it made you realize you l-love me?”
Rathe grimaced, but his eyes had a rare, tender light to them, one Mary knew he only reserved for her. She cherished those looks. As long as he could look only at her like that, she knew she had a chance.
Jumping off Viking’s back, Rathe gave the stallion a brisk, affectionate rub before letting his ride go.
Turning to her, he raised a brow.
By now, she knew what that meant and her smile widening, she raised her skirts and threw herself at him.
He caught her easily, his strength undeniable. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his head slanted over hers, his mouth taking hers in an unashamedly passionate kiss.
“I missed you, little pearl.” His English accent was so much more pronounced as he whispered the words against the lips, making Mary shiver with heightened awareness.
Her arms tightened around his neck as she returned his kiss, reveling in Rathe’s desire for her. Moments like this made her wonder dizzily how anyone could ever think of Rathe Wellesley as a cold fish. He was anything but, not with the way his tongue boldly conquered every inch of her mouth, not with the way his huge erection throbbed almost violently against her belly.
Her duke was just a very private man, one who allowed only those closest to him a glimpse of his true self.And, Mary thought faintly,she kind of liked it that way.
When he pulled away, she mumbled back, “I m-missed you, too.”
His lips curved. “Even after all this time, you’re still shy with me?”
She made a face. “You don’t understand.” Mary touched his face, the graze of her fingers against his cheek soft and tantalizing. “You’re you, and I’m...me. Ordinary. I don’t think I’ll e-ever stop b-being tongue-tied around you.”
Her words tugged at his chest, making it tighten. If it had been any other woman, Rathe would have no problem disregarding it as empty flattery. But this was Mary. The shyest person he knew and yet, with him, Rathe knew she did her very best to overcome her inhibitions.
His arms tightened around her as he found himself recalling the reason behind her shyness.
Almost her entire life, Mary had lived under the oppressive authority of her stepfather, a man who was half religious zealot, half sex maniac. With all the abuse Bartholomew had subjected her to, it was a wonder Mary had managed to stay not only sane but kind and forgiving – someone who could stay by Rathe’s side, despite knowing he could never give her his heart.
“R-Rathe?” Worry for him ironically made her sound so much younger, and this time his mind drowned in a mixture of past memories and recent events. People mocking his parents for their age gap, people talking about him and Mary behind their backs because of the same bloody thing.
The fact was, Rathe wassixteen years olderthan Mary. He was, and would always be, old enough to be her father. Was it truly right to be with her?
“Rathe.” This time, Mary’s voice was firmer, his name on her lips accompanied by her touch. His beautiful little pearl cupped his face, making him look at her.
“S-stop frowning, please.” She knew not anyone would be able to say something like it to his face, but she said the words anyway. For her, Rathe was Rathe first, and his being the duke was just incidental.
Rathe forced himself to relax. “Sorry, darling.” When she touched his brows, he asked wryly, “Do I look that fearsome?”
“Not exactly. Just...melancholic?”
His lips twitched.
She blinked in confusion. “W-what?”
Securing his hold on her, he shook his head as he started to walk towards where she had been resting earlier. “Nothing, except that you still surprise me with how—-” He paused. “—-eloquentyou can be, at your age.”
Mary sighed. “I wish I could b-be more eloquent. I mean, Iammore eloquent usually, b-but when I s-see you...”
