Page 26
“Where are you going?” Rayne muttered aloud, hurrying after the insect.
She gasped in delight when she turned the bend in the pathway and beheld at least a dozen clouded yellows hovering around the arbor and nearby scarlet beebalm.
“Ah, did you know I’ve been in the doldrums, and you brought me here to cheer me?” she asked the butterfly.
The notion was preposterous, and with so many butterflies gliding about, she had no idea which one she’d followed. However, the spectacle before her was breathtaking—like something from a fairyland. Never before had she seen so many clouded yellow butterflies in one place.
“I hoped ye’d come,” a familiar burr resonated from within the arbor as a tall form emerged.
Oh, God.
At least this time, Rayne didn’t shriek like a banshee.
As he had that first day, Fletcher wore buckskins tucked into Hessians. Today, however, he wore a coat—a deep burgundy accented with gold braid and trim. If she’d thought he’d looked like a swashbuckler with his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows the other day, she’d been sorely mistaken.
This version of a roguish buccaneer was wholly mesmerizing.
A bicorn hat rested upon his head, his loose hair brushing his ridiculously broad shoulders. A dirk protruded from the top of his left boot, giving him a rakish, devil-may-care appearance.
He quite took her breath away. For several rapid heartbeats, all she could do was stare, taking in each magnificent contour and plane of him. As it always did, his masculine beauty stirred something primal and powerful deep within her. For the first time, Rayne felt herself wishing a man—thisman—might be hers for all time.
She’d finally found a man she wasn’t afraid of, a man she was attracted to, a man she had undefinable feelings for, and he belonged to another.
Wouldn’t you know it?
Whoever had said fate or destiny was a cruel mistress hadn’t been exaggerating.
Marshaling her thoughts and composure, she said, “Fletcher? I mean, Your Grace?”
It came out a question.
“Rayne.”
He addressed her by her given name, and her gullible heart took to wing over such a trivial, insignificant thing.
Holding her sketch pad to her chest and clutching her pencils, she eased forward. A smile tipped the corner of her mouth. Last time she’d used a basket as a shield.
“Whatever are you doing in the arbor?” She cut the enclosure a swift glance before focusing on him again.
“Waitin’ for ye.”
“Waiting…for me?”
At that moment, she fell a little bit in love with him.
And yet she knew full well that doing so was foolhardy. Not only did he belong to another, but he also couldn’t have known she’d venture out here today.
Peering up at him, noting the shadow of a beard forming on his chiseled jaw, Rayne said as much. “That was awfully silly of you. I don’t normally spend time in these gardens in the afternoon. It gets too warm, and Everleigh worries that I’ll freckle. You might’ve waited for hours, and I wouldn’t have come.”
Her aunt was blessed with extremely fair hair and creamy skin that she diligently protected from the sun. Whereas Rayne must’ve had a freckled ancestor with red hair perched in her family tree somewhere.
“I dinna mind the wait.” Fletcher lifted a broad shoulder, his keen blue-green gaze roaming over her. Almost…almost as if he hungered for the sight of her too. “I kent Sheffield was out this afternoon, and it was safe to venture here.”
Only if Fitzroy or one of the other gardeners didn’t come upon him and raise a hue and cry.
No doubt, Griffin had made an offhand remark about his plans for the afternoon during another of his meetings with Fletcher today. She could hardly ask him not to mention such things to the Duke of Kincade without raising questions as to why she didn’t want their neighbor and Griffin’s business associate to know.
Not only would Rayne sound like an illogical idiot, she would put Fletcher in danger of Griffin’s wrath if he learned what had transpired between her and Fletcher, no matter how innocent.
