Page 18 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The bell above the bakery door chimed a welcoming note as Owen stepped inside, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries enveloping him. His gaze swept the cozy space, searching for the one person who could set his heart into an erratic gallop.
“Good day, Mrs. Arbuckle,” he greeted with a nod.
“Owen,” replied the matronly figure from behind the counter, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “Xenia’s in the kitchen.” She gestured with a flour-dusted hand toward the back, where trays of pastries awaited their turn in the oven. “Go on back.”
With a grateful smile, Owen made his way past the shelves laden with loaves of bread and sweet buns. As he pushed through the door into the warm kitchen, he called out, “Zee?”
She turned from her task of drying a bowl, a few stray locks of black hair escaping her bun to frame her flushed face. Blue eyes, bright as a summer sky, locked onto his, and she straightened up, wiping her hands on her apron. “Owen! What brings you here?”
“I thought you might fancy a walk,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual so she wouldn’t know it was primal urges that brought him looking for her.
A playful glint sparked in her eyes, and she tossed aside the cloth. “I’m just finishing here. Let me ask Mama.” She left him alone, but returned quickly. “Shall we go?”
As they left the kitchen together, Mrs. Arbuckle looked up from her work, a knowing grin spreading across her features. Her gaze followed them as they exited the bakery. “Have a lovely walk.”
Owen glanced back, acknowledging her well-wishes with a brief nod before turning his attention to the woman by his side, ready to spend some time with her alone.
He steered Zee down the lane that led away from Kinnerton Manor, improving the chances they could spend the afternoon without the company of Simon. His gut clenched at the thought of having him join their outing. While he enjoyed the trysts the three of them shared, Owen needed this time to show Zee who he really was as a man, as a lover. To show her how he felt about her.
“Remember when we used to race up to Old Miller’s bridge?” Zee’s laughter floated on the breeze, pulling Owen back to a simpler time when love was a game children whispered about.
“I could never beat you,” he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. “You always knew the shortcuts.”
“I still do,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “Though I imagine you’ve gained other strengths since.”
“Perhaps. But some things haven’t changed. Like how the Harvest Festival is coming up. I hear your parents are planning something special for the baking competition this year.”
“My lips are sealed as to what Mama’s planning. She’s sworn me to secrecy. Though I can say it’ll be a treat for the senses.”
“Everything that comes out of the Arbuckle’s bakery is,” Owen said earnestly, his words laced with an admiration that encompassed more than just the baked goods. “Just like the woman standing before me.”
Zee blushed, the rosy hue matching the vibrancy of the poppies scattered along the roadside. Their conversation meandered as the road did, touching upon memories of shared summers and village lore. As much as he loved talking with her, her nearness was driving his cock mad.
“Would you... would you come to my house? I want—no, I need to be alone with you. Not in the shadows or on the side of the road near the river, but properly, in my bed.” His cheeks blazed with a heat that mirrored the fire of his forge, but his gaze remained locked on hers, unwavering.
A moment passed, thick with tension. Then she stepped closer, her eyes alight with a daring spirit that had always drawn him to her. “I’d enjoy that.”
They turned around, and Owen had difficulty keeping his pace as casual as a few moments before. As they approached his home, the afternoon sun cast shadows across the walls of the buildings on the lane. His hand trembled slightly as he led Zee to the entrance. He glanced over his shoulder up the lane, which was empty. “I should bring you in the back way, shouldn’t I, to keep the neighbors from seeing you.”
“Good thought, scandalous talk might ruin me,” Xenia replied with mock severity, playing along.
“Why, if anyone says anything, I might have to marry you to save face.” He paused at the door and met her gaze. “I’d do so in a minute, even without the gossip.”
He realized how close that sounded to a proposal and wondered what Zee thought. She said nothing. He ushered her into the dimly lit main room, where the windows offered some sun still, casting a warm glow over the simple furnishings. He paused for a moment, the air between them charged with anticipation, and asked, “Would you care for a drink? I have lemonade, or I could make tea.”
Her eyes met his, sparkling with either laughter or happiness, he wasn’t sure. “No, thank you.”
Acknowledging her response with a nod, he took her hand, leading her to the narrow staircase at the back of the room. Reaching the sanctuary of his bedchamber, he closed the door behind them, sealing away the rest of the world even though he lived alone, so no one would interrupt them. He turned to face Zee, drinking in the sight of her—the woman whose body he planned to worship.
With deliberate care, he brushed a loose strand of black hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers trailed down, tracing the line of her jaw, before coming to rest at the nape of her neck.
He untied the ribbon that held her bonnet in place and set it aside. Pulling the pins from her hair, he let the dark tresses cascade around her shoulders in a silky waterfall. He ran his fingers through it, stroking the silky strands. “So soft, just like your skin.”
Loosening her gown, he helped her take it off, followed by her chemise. He ran his fingertips across her bare shoulders, then down her arms, marveling at her beauty. She was exquisite, and she was all his, at least at the moment. “If you were my wife, I’d have you dress like this always.”
She laughed, but she didn’t try to cover her nudity, which pleased him. “And what of the customers who call here when they don’t find you at the forge?”