Page 62 of In Want of a Wife
Afraid because she knew, once she stepped on Rafe's sailboat, it would not be only a kiss between them or several. Knew it was not a flirtation or some innocent exploration of her desires.
“Terrified.” His voice was low and hungry.
His hand wrapped around hers and pulled her up into the sailboat.The world tilted, and she stretched out her arms to balance herself, only falling instead against Rafe.
“Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
She swatted him away, smiling when she turned.
“I am, actually. Sorry, that is. I believe I was a cad again last… well, all of yesterday.”
Lily crossed her arms and nodded. “The telescope helps.”
“Every now and again, I am surprisingly decent.”
“Rafe, you are always decent. It’s only that you don’t believe that you are, which is the trouble.”
He shrugged. “Don’t make this about me, love. Come here, and help me for a moment, and I’ll take you to see the Welsh coast before the sun sets.”
“I enjoyed watching you sail today,”his mother said, strolling into the kitchen later that night.
He glanced back over his shoulder from the open doorway. “I was surprised when I walked into the boathouse.”
His mother put on the kettle and then picked up the cat crying at her feet. She nuzzled him, and he bumped his forehead against her cheek with a happy purr.
“I knew you needed to be away for a bit. I knew you would come back.”
He twisted, resting his back against the door jamb. He loved this cottage by the sea. He loved the memories of running along the cliffside as a small boy waiting for his father. When his father died, he remembered watching the horizon each night when his little heart couldn’t wrap itself up in its grief. But his father never returned, in spite of his wishes, and soon he was at sea himself, forever away from home.
“I am starting to believe I have had enough, Ma.”
She nodded. “Our hearts have a habit of taking as much time asthey need. Wishing them better makes no difference.”
Thirteen years might as well have been an eternity. He had fled and left his mother and Mari, and he had sailed away and pushed his body well past exhaustion for years before he started drinking. Thirteen years was far too long a time to spend thoroughly hating yourself.
He was exhausted. And he was ready to return home, to them both.
“I am so sorry about that afternoon,” he said, his voice cracking. “I truly am.”
With a soft whoosh, Rafe exhaled, releasing the knot that had been lodged in his chest since that day. He had written his apology time and again, but somehow saying it to his mother here in her kitchen felt more real than it ever had.
“I know that. And in her own way, so does Mari.”
“I did some foolish things in London before Henry was informed of father’s cousin passing. I thought traveling with him would help, but there is nothing on that island for me.”
“My boy.” She walked up and placed her hand on his cheek, tears in her eyes. “You were not made for islands or for being tied to a city that has no care for you. You are something much more special. Your heart has always been tied to exploring that horizon there.”
“You are saying that because you are my mother.”
“Perhaps. And I am also saying as your mother that you do not belong in Henry’s love life.”
“I thought it would be funny to place a marriage advertisement. We were in another pointless tiff, and I thought he needed a wife to occupy his time instead of always fussing over me.”
“That is for him to decide.”
“So, he told me.”
