“You impressed me,” he added. “You lasted nearly three days before succumbing to your curiosity.”
“Last night, you called her a ghost. Why does she haunt you?”
No. No more talk of Katharine. Whatever nonsense he had spouted, whatever his past failings, none of it belonged here in the sunlight, with this woman who was so vibrantly alive.
“So you don’t believe in witchcraft but you do believe in ghosts?” he parried lightly.
“The past can haunt any of us.” She lifted a hand as though to touch him. He swayed toward her but she dropped her arm. “Your eyes are tired. I thought it was because you had seen everything, but maybe it’s because they’re haunted.”
“Maybe it’s from the effort of trying to follow your thoughts.”
“But they’re the color of brandy in the sunlight.”
“Hmm?”
“Your eyes.” She smiled, playful and warm. “Has no one ever told you? That in the sunlight, your eyes are the color of brandy.”
He was as silly as a girl at her first ball, to let such flattery affect him. Yet his chest swelled with undeserved pride, as though the color of his eyes was the greatest achievement of his life.
“It is a source of continual amazement that not once has anyone told me that my eyes look like brandy in the sunlight.”
She laughed, and oh, how Rafe wanted to capture that laughter with his mouth, taste her joy upon his tongue. Now he should say something about her eyes. Tell her they were as blue as the sky, like the wings of tropical butterflies.
But he felt enough of a fool as it was.
“You’re smiling,” she said accusingly.
“I am not.”
“Ha ha! Now I know the true reason why you rarely smile. You have a dimple.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Right there. When you smile. Smile and then—”
She poked at his cheek. He caught her hand and held onto it.
“You are determined to rob me of my dignity, aren’t you?” he said.
Her attempt to appear innocent meant fighting her smile, but that only made her look more mischievous, as she dipped her head to peer at him from under her lashes, and there, beside her mouth—
“You have dimples,” he said.
“No, you do.”
“No, you do. Right here and here.”
His thumb brushed the little indents. How delightful they were, these dimples that appeared only when she sought to hide her smile.
It would be a small matter, in the circumstances, to cradle her face as he had done the night before, but this time press his lips to hers, caress her mouth and coax it open, that he might taste her fully, kiss her hungrily, experience the miracle of having her kiss him. He had dreamed of such kisses last night, dreams so vivid they were almost real, but he was glad they were not real, for they had passed too quickly. It would be something to savor and anticipate, the first time Rafe kissed Thea properly.
He dropped her hand and stepped back. The devil take him, one might think a kiss was inevitable, but if he kissed Thea’s mouth, it would seem a small matter to kiss her everywhere, and if he took such liberties, honor would demand he marry her, and what would someone as lively and sociable as Thea do then, living in an isolated country house with a surly, solitary husband who cared only for his plants?
The glasshouse, the laboratory: These were his purpose. He was not a family man. That was Christopher, with his beloved wife Mary and their seventy-six children. Rafe was not made for keeping a wife happy. He was made for this.
And he did mean to tell her to return to the house, but her inquisitive expression melted the words on his lips.
He had been upset, yet she had changed his mood, with her simple, undemanding friendliness. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, lifting one’s spirit. What about her spirit? Did it become tiring for her, being cheerful all the time, finding the will to play when she had lost so much? This lively woman who hated to disappoint others, even though the world continually disappointed her?
He called himself weak, but surely it was not a weakness to want to make another person happy.
So instead of sending her away, he said, “Would you like me to show you around? The glasshouse, I mean.”
Her expression brightened, and he thought, It is wrong for anyone to take that from her. Then she schooled her face: She tried to hide her delight and failed utterly. Rafe had never been so glad to see anyone fail.
“I should like that very much,” she said.
Chapter 15
Inside the greenhouse, Thea looked at the plants, and Rafe looked at Thea.
“Yes, yes.” She nodded knowledgeably, in that way she had when she didn’t know a thing. “Yes, I see.”