They had spent the past three days dancing around each other and the desire that was as potent and raw between them as ever. All his good intentions were turning to ash, the flames of his need fast turning into a conflagration. But he was firm in his resolve that she would be the one to make the next move in this chess game of theirs, regardless of how much he wanted her.
Tamping down a furious rush of longing—perpetual whenever he was in her presence—he looked to the sky as well. “There is Lacerta,” he pointed out, “just to the right of Cassiopeia. And Cepheus above them.” His finger traced the points in the sky.
“Do you know, I have not looked into the sky to admire the stars since…”
Her words trailed off. She did not need to finish them, for he knew.
“Oxfordshire,” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Sinceyou.”
There was a wealth of feeling in that lone word. Remembrance washed over him. He hoped she felt what he did, the stirring deep within, inexplicable and yet blossoming, like a flower with petals unfurling. It was the same feeling that inevitably came after a sickness, almost as if the body had forgotten how wondrous it felt to be healthy and whole again. A deep-seated sea change.
Roland wanted to say as much, but the proper words seemed elusive.
“My mother taught me that we should always take the time to appreciate the gift of our world,” he offered instead.
“She must have been a wise woman.”
“She was.” And there it was, a well of emotion. The grip of grief was never far. No matter how many years that passed, he would forever miss the woman who had given him life and shown him how to care for others.
Unlike his father.
Roland blinked away the sudden rush to his eyes.
Pippa’s hand covered his, taking him by surprise as their fingers tangled together. “I was never close to my mother, for she died when I was quite young. I often wish I had firmer memories of her, especially for Charlotte’s sake. You are fortunate you have so much wisdom to recall your mother by.”
“I am,” he agreed. “And I am also fortunate to be here tonight, gazing up at the stars with my wife.”
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
Draco and Ursa Minor glittered in the sky above them.
“Do you truly mean that?”
Pippa’s question cut the stillness of the night. A small breeze ruffled through the grasses and trees, bringing her scent to him. He chanced a glance in her direction to find her watching him instead of the stars. How he wished for more light, that he might read her hazel eyes, see the full expression on her lovely face.
“Of course I mean it, Pippa. I have not forgotten the time we spent together that long-ago summer.” Nor had he forgotten what had come after.
The letter she had written him, telling him she had found happiness with another had long since been crumpled and burned. He had been on his previously planned visit to his mother’s sister in New York when the news of Pippa’s betrothal had reached him. The letter had gone to his London address, then to Yorkshire, back to London, and finally forwarded on to New York. So much wasted time. He had ended his visit early, but by the time he had reached London, she had already been Mrs. George Shaw, and there had been no point in paying her a call.
He did not dally with married women, nor with ladies who threw him over for scoundrels.
But he knew now the reasons why.
“I should have waited until you returned from your trip abroad,” she said quietly, a mournful tone coming into her voice. “No, what am I saying? If I had, I would not have Charlotte.”
“Everything happens as it ought,” he reassured her, “as my mother was fond of saying. Your Charlotte is a joy.”
“She was so proud that you wore her flower for three days straight.”
He had stuffed the sad, wilting yellow bloom into his buttonhole each time he changed. It had been worth it just to watch Char-char’s face brighten, the delighted grin she bestowed upon him. He would wear the damned thing every day for the rest of his life just for that reaction.
“I am proud she thought enough of me to offer me a flower.” He caressed her thumb with his. A subtle gesture, all he dared. Though they were lying on their backs beneath the night sky, no one within hearing distance, he had not brought her to this place to make love to her.
Not unless she asked him to.
“She admires you greatly.” Tentatively, Pippa’s thumb moved against his. “As do I.”
