She tried not to watch him as he put his mouth to the shavings, swirled his tongue over them, and licked the drippings with his tongue.
Howwouldhe taste? The notion was appalling.
Did she dare?
Chapter Five
Rob had notrealized quite the extent to which Shoreham had ignored Fiona in the bedroom. Some of what he was thinking to do with her was now stowed away in his mind and categorized as “never going to happen” or “still hope it might happen but won’t hold my breath” or “yes, happening this very night.”
He finished his ice shavings and watched Fiona while she was lost in her thoughts, her sweet tongue slowly licking across the last of her ice shavings. After a moment, he turned away and fixed his attention on the elegantly dressed family at the table next to them. They were not titled—this he could tell because they had their children with them and no nanny to attend them. The man was likely a barrister or wealthy merchant.
He smiled at the children, who were extremely well behaved. Polite children were something completely foreign to the aristocratic crowd in which he was raised. Parents rarely attended to their offspring, leaving the chore of raising them to be arrogant, spoiled, and pompous to their hired nannies and tutors.
Fiona had never developed any of those insufferable traits, not even after she had married Shoreham and become his countess.
As a child, she was kind and mothering. She could also be bossy, competitive, and watch out if anyone crossed her or any ofher friends, because you did not want the wrath of Fiona to fall upon you.
But she was also fun, clever, and exceptionally compassionate. He had never felt so loved as when he was around her.
There was not a moment he ever regretted being with her. She always looked out for him, and yet was also ready to tell him the truth whenever he behaved like an ass. This was what made their situation so hard for him. He was no longer a little boy. It was his turn to look out for her, to protect her and make her happy.
He would walk through the fires of hell to give Fiona her heart’s desire…children.
Truly, fate was cruel to them. He needed a legitimate heir to carry on the Durham title. This was the one thing she could not provide, or so she thought. What if Shoreham had been the problem all along and not her? Was this possibility not worth pursuing? Fiona seemed convinced the problem fell completely on her shoulders.
Had something happened to make her certain? Perhaps Shoreham had sired a child out of wedlock.
The notion seemed far-fetched, however. Theirs had been a marriage built on kindness and respect. While other gentlemen might have taken on mistresses or had liaisons outside of marriage, Shoreham never would have committed this utter betrayal.
Or would he?
Rob dared not raise the matter with Fiona, although he did not rule out discussing it later.
Well, he would give it thought. The topic was so sensitive for her, utterly destroying her every time it came up.
“Are you finished, Fiona?”
Her lips and tongue were ruby red from the ice syrup. “All done.”
His had been a lemon ice, which perhaps had left his lips and tongue yellow. Well, they would both look ridiculous as they strolled along the shops. He asked for a cup of boiled water from a passing maid. “At once, Your Grace.”
Fiona tipped her head in question. “I thought we were done. What do you want with the water?”
“To clear our mouths. We shall look like clowns otherwise.”
“Oh, that would be fun.” She burst into merry laughter. “We should paint bright red spots on our cheeks and noses, too, and then walk into the fanciest establishments. Do you think anyone will pass a remark when they learn you are the Duke of Durham and I am Countess Shoreham?”
She would look beautiful even with bright red spots painted all over her face. This was because Fiona was naturally pretty and nothing she did could make her look less than spectacular.
“Do not get ideas, Fiona. I am not going to walk around Brighton looking like a victim of the pox.”
“Ugh, Rob! We are talking clowns, not diseases.”
“Answer is still no.” Once it was delivered, he waited a minute for the water to cool down, then dipped his handkerchief into the cup. After wringing it out, he dabbed the moist cloth across Fiona’s supple mouth to wipe off the red syrup, and then did the same with his to wipe away the yellow.
She cast him an impish smile. “Your tongue is still yellow, Rob.”
“I’ll try not to stick it out. Yours is still red. Do not talk or stick yours out, either.”
