Page 20 of Lover
She appeared enchanted, and I was glad I could still charm her.
“It must be beautiful here during the warm months.”
“Most beautiful.”
I wasn’t looking at the world around us, because the world I wanted was looking at me.
We smiled simultaneously.
“Actually,” I said, “I was searching you out. Not just to apologize, but to ask a favor of you.”
“Oh?” A new wariness.
I told her about the plans for the dinner, and she accepted the invitation with interest. We continued our pleasant walk, with me exulting in being her guide again, describing the flora that would bloom and turn Willowfield into a wonderland. A weight lifted, and though I didn’t want to leave, I had honest requirements to be in town to oversee the plans for the hothouse.
“I have business in town this evening, but I will see you in the morning, and we’ll set back to work on the mess I’ve made.”
“I’m sure we can make it right,” she replied, offering me undeserved forgiveness.
“I very much look forward to trying.”
Seeing her safely to the house, I left Millie at the door, feeling as though we were courting again.
When she was out of sight, I began my trek to the garage, the timing unfortunate as Rodney had only just arrived there as well, preparing the truck to take to town for the mulch. Animosity, inspired by his flirtations with my vulnerable wife, flared like an oil fire. If there was any time to set the boundary, to warn him of the consequences of his tomfoolery, it was now.
I approached him, less in control of my temper than I wanted to be. I would need to tread carefully. When I spoke it was with the cool authority belonging to the master of Willowfield.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Rodney, but keep Millie out of it. I’ve never given any thought to your private life—it’s your own—but you’re coming dangerously close to involving me, which is something you don’t want.”
My warning visibly ruffled him, his eyes narrowing, smile tight-lipped—it was the sort of look men adopted when they considered stepping out of their respectability and into a brawl.A baser part of me hoped he’d give me any reason to loosen his teeth. We’d never come to blows, though right before his father was fired, many years ago, I’d been forced to drag him off a local boy who’d given Felicity an apple and a chaste peck on the cheek during a harvest festival.
“Are you threatening me?” he asked.
“Do I need to?”
We glared at each other for a breath, then with a shake of his head he went back to loading the truck with empty crates.
“I’m just treating Millie to some carefree friendship. With you skulking and stalking around that godforsaken house, Felicity so spooked she jumps at every peep, and Ms. Dillard rarely able to even say a word to her—it’s made the woman edgy. All I was doing was trying to help.”
His twisting of the circumstances to his favor further disgusted me. I wondered what sort of darkness had been left to grow so long undisturbed beneath that golden façade.
“Help from afar,” I said, “and don’t involve a vulnerable woman in your amusements.”
He stopped his work again, his smile broadening into a gleaming snarl full of all the contempt I was mutually experiencing.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing, Callum? Keeping all those secrets from your own wife? I expect before long she’ll come clamoring back to your bed. Will you tell her then?”
I stepped forward, rage scorching away reservations, and took the collar of his shirt in my hands, leveraging my height to unbalance him though he was a stout bounder.
“Keep your mind clear of whatever Millie has done or will ever do with me in bed,” I growled. To his luck, and likely mine, he didn’t rise to the occasion. Instead, he raised his hands in surrender.
“Sure, sure. We’ve known each other a long time, I should be able to point out the flaws in your methods.” He grabbed my fists and yanked down to disengaged himself, and I let him go, grudgingly allowing him to step away without a fist in his eye.
“Wehaveknown each other for a long time, which is why I’m giving you the privilege of one last warning—stay away from Millie until she comes back into herself or I’ll have you scooping your own guts off the grass.”
“Loud and clear,Mr. Hughes,” he sneered, leaning down to grab up one last crate, tossing it in the truck bed with an angry grunt, then stalking away.
Rodney had always enjoyed an incredible amount of autonomy as the master gardener, especially since the house had been closed. He was practically king of Willowfield’s outdoor domain, but it was clearly time to reevaluate his reign.
