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“You’re not joining us?” Seraphina asked, turning to her with a look of disappointment. She was beginning to enjoy time with her new sister, and didn’t want her to leave yet.

“I will come back soon,” Leah promised, “But I told Aunt Rita that I would only be gone for the day. The Sanderbys are having their ball next week, I shall stay here a little longer then so that I may attend it with you.”

“What do you say, Your Grace?” Seraphina asked, turning to Hugo. “Join me for a picnic?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Have you been—well, settling into your new role?” Hugo asked.

Guilt still ate at him for how he’d reacted to Seraphina’s touch, but his land was important, and when duty called to him, he refused to shun it. Even if he had left his marriage in an awkward place.

Other women he’d been with had stayed far away from his scars; most likely from fear or revulsion. They’d focused solely on that main part of him of which could derive pleasure. Their touch wasn’t light, wasn’t seductive. It was direct and to the point.

Seraphina’s touch had been the complete opposite. Her touch had been slow, seductive, making his muscles relax and the tension in his head dissolve- until she’d touched his scars. It had sent a shot of fear through him so intense that he’d lost himself to not just anger and surprise, but to the memories of how they’d been created.

It had taken a long,longtime to get those memories and feelings back into check, and he’d needed to stay away for the duration of it.

Seraphina pulled more packages from the picnic basket, smiling.

“It was a rough adjustment at first,” she told him, “But I believe I am getting a better hand on it now. Your sister was a great help.”

Hugo grunted, still not overly comfortable with his sister’s appearance. He missed her, but had been relieved when she said she was not staying. She’d seen so much, too much, of his true nature.

“She showed me the differences between here and London,” Seraphina went on, “And I must admit, I am starting to prefer this place to the city.”

Hugo’s brow rose as he lit the oil lamps and placed them around their blanket.

“You believe so?”

Seraphina nodded.

“Yes, in London there is always someone watching you, but here, unless we are entertaining dignitaries, I am able to take more liberties. Like our riding today. It was the freest I have felt in- well, ever. I’d never ridden a regular saddle before, I understand now why men prefer it.”

Hugo chuckled at this, growing more comfortable. He thought she did indeed look more beautiful in the understated riding outfit, with her hair flowing and her cheeks flushed, than she did in the gossamer fabrics of the more sophisticated gowns.

“I am glad to hear it,” he told her, reaching for one of the plates.

Seraphina stopped him, placing a hand over his own.

“No,” she said softly, going to her knees, “Allow me, please.”

Pleasure trickled into his veins as he watched Seraphina prepare his plate, then bow her head slightly as she offered it to him. So graceful, elegant but subtly primal, calling to the part of him that craved submission.

“How was Leah’s visit?” He asked, accepting the plate. As he reached for it, his hands slid over hers, and he felt the gentle hum of her pulse seeping into him. They locked eyes for a moment, and a pink blush bloomed in Seraphina’s cheeks before she slowly slid her hands away.

“She reminded me of something today,” Seraphina replied as she started to fix her own plate.

“Oh?”

“Yes. All families have their problems. I believe I was so focused on mine I forgot how others could feel or react to their own,” shereplied. She then sat down with a sigh, her blue eyes growing distant as if she returned to her own bad memories.

Hugo thought back to the moment he walked in on her crying in her home; to the moment on the terrace where he found her cheek red from her mother’s slap, and he felt rage begin to build.

“What was it like for you?” He asked, his tone gentle. “Growing up in a house such as yours. It could not have been easy.”

Seraphina sighed, looked up at the darkening sky, as if searching for something, he began to nibble on a grape as she seemed to contemplate her answer.

“My mother did the best she could, I suppose, given her situation,” she replied at last.