The dining room was awash with golden lamplight, the long table gleaming beneath crystal and silver. Leighton rose as I entered, his smile warm enough. I'd even go so far as to say it was welcoming. Magnus merely inclined his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made my steps falter.
"Lisa," Leighton said as he drew out my chair. "You look lovely this evening."
The words should have steadied me, but instead they made my stomach twist tighter. His gentleness was almost unbearable after what I had done for them. I murmured my thanks, keeping my eyes trained on the plate before me.
Dinner began as though nothing scandalous had transpired between us. Polite conversation, weather, the vineyards, news from the Cape. Leighton told a funny story about one of his workers trying to train a stubborn mule, and I even laughed! For a moment, I might have convinced myself that the world was still as it had been before they'd told me what they wanted from me.
But then Magnus's hand brushed the stem of his glass in a way that was far too deliberate, his thumb circling slowly as though reminding me of the motion he had demanded from my own hand earlier. My cheeks heated, and I ducked my gaze.
Leighton brought my distracted attention back to him. "We'll begin crushing next week, if the weather holds. After that the must will go straight into the vats."
I frowned in earnest. "The... must? I didn't know grapes could be so bossy."
Leighton laughed softly, his gaze warm on me. "Oh, it's not an order, love. Must is what we call crushed grapes before we turn them into wine."
"Oh," I said, staring at him, my cheeks heating for a different reason that time.
"Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll teach you all there is to know."
"She learns quickly when guided," Magnus remarked idly. His tone was mild, but his eyes locked on mine across the table, and I knew he wasn't talking about grapes, wines or even horses.
My fork slipped against the plate, the scrape loud in the silence. Heat flared all the way from my ears to the tips of my toes. Leighton reached over, brushing his fingers against mine as if to steady me.
"I think she's done more than enough learning for one day," he said lightly, but there was something protective in the way his thumb lingered against my knuckles. "I won't have you making things more difficult than it need be, Mag. Give the girl a break."
My chest ached at Leighton's tenderness, his easy defense. How could I ever tell him that the warmth he offered only made my guilt sharper? That I wanted to curl into his kindness even as a darker, wilder part of me craved the way Magnus looked at me, as if I were a challenge he meant to conquer.
I forced a mouthful of food down, though it might as well have been ash. Every moment, every bite, was a battle, pretending I wasn't replaying the sound of their voices in my head as they guided me through my self-pleasure.
"I still haven't agreed to anything permanent."
Silence stretched. The scrape of my fork against the plate sounded indecently loud. My breath stuck in my chest, waiting for their anger, their disappointment.
Instead, the men exchanged a glance.
Leighton reached across the table, brushing his fingers over mine in reassurance. "No one's asking you to decide this instant, love. You've only just arrived."
Magnus's voice came next, smooth, dark and deadly. "But you'll find it harder and harder to pretend you don't want what we're offering."
My lips parted with a protest I never quite voiced.
Leighton leaned back, his smile just as easy as always. "How about we start small? Tomorrow, instead of hiding in your room, you come out with us."
My brows shot up as my heartbeat sped up. "What do you mean?"
"We'll take you into town," he said, his tone casual. "Get some new clothes ordered for you. Perhaps take a stroll down Main street."
Magnus tipped his glass toward me, eyes glittering. "And little filly? Before we leave these walls... We'll make sure you're well reminded of who you belong to. Even if you don't believe it yet."
The air seemed to thicken, making it harder to breathe.
Belong.
The word lodged itself in my heart like a brand, hot and undeniable.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning light poured through the curtains like it had no mercy. I squinted, groaned, and buried my face deeper in the pillow. Of course, the day I was meant to face the town, was the day my eyes felt like sandpaper after I was up fretting all night.
