He was more to her than a barrister or lover.
Was lover even an appropriate moniker? Aside from the day she’d been suffering through her courses, he had not touched her, had hardly spoken to her in the bustle of preparing for her trial.
And she wanted him to touch her again, to do all the things he’d promised that night at the farmhouse. To strip her bare and taste her, then stretch his long body over hers—
“Oy, focus!” Archie called, and Marigold startled from her thoughts. Had he somehow known what she was thinking?
Oh. Matthew was chasing a red squirrel across the lawn.
When he’d gathered the boys again, Archie backed up several paces. “You run and try to get past me,” he shouted, “and I’ll try to tackle you.”
“No!” Marigold was on her feet and marching over the grass before she realized what she was doing. “No, it’s not safe.”
Archie turned, wiped perspiration from his brow, and squinted at her. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“I’ve seen your games.” She was close enough now to see how his hair had darkened at the roots. A rogue curl stuck to his temple. “They’re smaller than you, and—”
He lowered his voice and cupped his upper arm with his wide palm. “I won’t hit them like I do in a game. I wouldn’t hurt them, Marigold. You know that.”
“They can still b-b-be hurt, and I—I—” She cut off with a full-body tremble, and Archie stepped further into her space, flooding her senses with his musky scent, the size of his body.Protect me, her instincts screamed, and she wanted to fall against his chest and let him surround her, alleviate any fear over the safety of her children.
Protect us.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the strength of that desire, fisted her hands at her side to avoid reaching for him, pulling him in.
“Marigold, please, love,” he whispered, lower than the boys could hear, his breath stirring the loose hair against her temple. “Trust me. I’ll take care of them.”
A vision filled her mind, of Archie playing with her children, making a home with her. A place where she was secure in herself, where she needn’t live in fear. That the security she felt at the party, which seemed like a lifetime ago, could be real. Forever.
She opened her eyes and stepped back, putting space between them. A daydream, perhaps, but a future with Archie wasimpossible. She was leaving England, and he’d never leave his family, the firm he had worked so hard to build. She would have to be strong enough for the three of them on her own.
“B-b-be careful, will you?” she stammered.
Was she imagining the disappointment on his face?
“I told you I would be.” He retreated, as though expecting her to object again, but she bit her cheek to restrain herself.
She remained in a state of agitation, even after the boys had run at Archie multiple times. Most attempts they passed or dodged him without incident. Once, Archie caught Matthew and swung him into the air with a performative growl.
Marigold’s heart nearly stopped, but Matthew’s unabashed laughter stilled her, and when Archie set him down at last, her child was red-faced and sweaty, putting on his best fearsome expression while trying not to giggle.
Before long, both boys were running straight at Archie, having abandoned the pretense of dodging him. He lifted Matthew up and spun him around, but was careful to follow Reggie’s lead, waiting until the boy initiated contact before catching him around the waist or below the arms, then coached him on a more effective maneuver. By the time the sun began to set, Matthew and Reggie were stumbling, exhausted, and at long last retreated to their mother’s side.
“Thank you, Mum,” Matthew said, his head lolling against her shoulder. He smelled like sunshine and grass, and her heart squeezed until she thought it may burst.
“Thank Mr. Grant for p-playing with you.” She glanced at Archie and immediately wished she hadn’t.
From this distance, she could see how perspiration made his shirt stick to his chest, the muscular lines of his shoulders and arms distinct beneath the thin fabric. His cheeks carried a high color, his eyes bright as he grinned down at the boys with pride.
“It was my pleasure,” he said, and something about the way he said the last word sent electricity sparking in her core.
She shifted on her feet to relieve the ache.
Reggie panted by her side, a flush up his neck and cheeks. “Thank you, Mum,” he echoed. “I love you.”
“Me too,” Matthew echoed, his words slurred as his head lolled. Archie put a steadying hand on the boy’s back.
Her throat burned, and a tear snuck free as she glanced at Archie. His eyes were similarly damp as he glanced between Reggie and her.
