Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

R afe was endlessly fascinated by his wife. Last night, for the first time in his nine and twenty years, he had slept with a woman sprawled atop his chest—one who mumbled in her sleep, telling someone named Lizzy that it was her turn to feed the hens. He had been so astonished by her endearing sleep talk that he had chuckled, but she had remained deeply asleep, utterly unperturbed. When he woke this morning, it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to make love to her again. Julia was passionate and wild, a woman who stirred something deep within him.

His daughters had been disappointed to be sent off to their lessons instead of spending the day with Julia, but he assured them they had all the time in the world to enjoy her company. Now, as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the landscape, Rafe and Julia rode side by side into the village. She wore her gentleman's attire, her hair caught up in a loose chignon, giving her an effortlessly elegant yet slightly rebellious look that he found captivating.

Their journey to the village had started by chance. He had encountered her heading toward the stables, and to his surprise, she had smiled brightly, walked up to him, and kissed him on the mouth as if the stable master and his assistant weren't milling about. Her cheeks had been rosy with the flush of the morning air, and her eyes gleamed with sensual awareness and delight.

When she mentioned wanting to visit the village to make a few purchases while waiting for her trunks to arrive, Rafe had offered to accompany her. The way her entire face lit up with a smile had sent a tender warmth spreading through his chest, and he had nearly pulled her into his arms to kiss her again right then and there.

As they approached the village, Julia turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "How about a race, my lord?"

Rafe raised an eyebrow. "A race?"

"Yes," she said, grinning. "First one to the village square wins. I must be given a boon once I win."

"A boon?"

"Of course, if you will, I shall also grant you one."

He couldn't resist the competitive gleam in her eyes. "Very well, wife. Prepare to be left in the dust."

With that, they both spurred their horses into action, galloping side by side across the open fields. The wind whipped through Julia's hair, and Rafe found himself impressed by her skill as she handled her horse with ease and confidence. She matched him stride for stride, her laughter echoing in the air, full of pure joy and exhilaration. When they reached the village square, Rafe had to admit she had beaten him by a narrow margin.

As they slowed their horses, he noticed the curious stares of the villagers, particularly the ladies, who were clearly taken aback by Julia's men's clothes. His wife seemed unconcerned with their stares and whispers, riding with the grace and confidence of a woman who was utterly unconcerned by the opinions of others.

Rafe recalled that his wife had been willing to face the ton's wrath to live life on her own terms. Admiration welled inside his chest. She was unlike anyone he had ever known—fearless, independent, and utterly captivating.

Julia waved her hand toward a sign as they approached the local modiste's shop. They dismounted and tied the horses' reins to the hitching post before entering the quaint establishment. Inside, the dressmaker greeted them warmly and presented Julia with a few dresses and pelisses that had been ordered but never collected. Julia examined the options, selecting several pieces and arranging for alterations while they toured the other shops, purchasing small items and enjoying the leisurely pace of the afternoon.

As they exited a sweets shop, Julia turned to Rafe with a smile that held a hint of mischief. "I'm ready to discuss my boon," she said.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he slanted a curious look at her. He had almost forgotten about that boon. "I'm listening, wife."

"I would like to oversee Grace and Emma's lessons for two or three days out of the week. Also, they spend too much time in the schoolroom—six days per week is excessive."

His heart jolted, and he carefully considered her request. "Why do you feel this is necessary?"

"They are unhappy," she said simply.

A cold wave of anger surged through him. "My girls are not unhappy."

Julia lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I was their age once. I was never made to attend lessons from Monday to Saturday without any real break. After their lessons, they retreat to the library to read and practice their needlepoint, then have supper and retire to bed. They may not voice their dissatisfaction, but I've seen the longing in their eyes during the few times we've spoken. They hunger for something more, something different. They are now a part of my life, and they are wonderful girls who deserve to experience more."

Rafe's jaw tightened as he processed her words. "This routine was established by their mother long before they were even born, countess."

Julia's eyes widened slightly before she frowned thoughtfully. "I see. Of course, what their mother wanted is very important."

Rafe nodded. "Their grandmother also approved their curriculum and has added to it over the years."

"The Dowager Countess of Ashton?"

"Yes."

Julia held his gaze for a long moment, her expression contemplative. "What role do you envision I should play in Grace and Emma's lives, my lord?"

His heart squeezed at the careful, almost hesitant look in her eyes.

"You are … you are their new mother," he said gruffly, the words feeling both strange and right on his tongue.

A radiant smile spread across Julia's face, striking his heart with unexpected force.

"Good," she said softly. "As their mother, I will not take my role lightly. Family has always been precious and important to me, Rafe. I shall oversee their education for three days out of the week. I will always honor what their mother wanted. But I am now also responsible for their care and happiness. Do you understand, my husband?"

My husband .

A knot formed in Rafe's throat, and for a moment, he could only stare at her, a sense of wonder unfurling in his chest. He recalled his daughters' letters mentioning how they wished they could take lessons outside sometimes, but Mrs. Tilby strictly forbade it. Though his girls had never deeply complained or expressed their unhappiness, he now realized that they had simply accepted the rigid structure of their lives, much like his first countess, Anna, who had been a model of ladylike decorum. But Julia … Julia was different. Her cultured tones spoke of a fine education, her manners were exemplary, yet there was an undeniable hint of wildness about her that he found intoxicating.

"I will trust your judgment, countess," he said.

A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes, and she ducked her head to hide her expression. Rafe's gut tightened as he realized she had feared he would refuse her request, understanding now why she had challenged him to a race in exchange for this boon.

"Julia," he murmured.

She looked up at him, her eyes still bright with unshed tears.

Unable to resist, he stepped closer and cupped her cheeks, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. "Thank you for marrying me," he said gruffly. "Thank you for taking my girls' happiness into your care. And thank you for leaving everything you knew behind … to be with me."

Rafe leaned in and pressed a tender, light kiss to her lips. He knew gossip might spread through the countryside about his inability to keep his hands off his new countess, but in that moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was the woman in his arms.

When they finally returned to the dressmaker's shop, Julia's new dresses were ready. She thanked the seamstress with a gracious smile, her earlier apprehension replaced with contentment. As they rode back to their estate, thunder rumbled overhead, and the first drops of rain began to fall. Julia laughed, lifting her face to the sky as the droplets rolled down her forehead and neck, her joy infectious.

She felt Rafe's gaze on her and glanced at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Without a word, he dismounted from his horse, reached for her, and pulled her against his body. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, one that ignited the fire that always seemed to simmer between them. It took so little—a kiss, a touch—to bring their desire to full flame, like cinders catching in dry grass.

Rafe's fingers threaded through her hair, loosening the pins and letting the soft, fine strands tumble over his hands. He reveled in the sensation, in the sight of her hair cascading down her back, reaching almost to her waist. Her subtle, delicate scent surrounded him, and he inhaled deeply.

In that moment, as the rain poured down around them, Rafe knew he had found something precious—something he hadn't even realized he was missing. Another elusive sensation whispered through him, but it was warm and heady. The rain poured harder, and he broke their kiss, grabbing her hand and running into the thick copse of trees.