The Royal Conquest(24)
He leaned forward, resting his muscular forearms on his thighs. “I think of what it would be like to dance with you, to feel your passion in movement and sounds, to taste you.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “You think of kissing me?” She pushed the words out, determined to sound worldly and unaffected.
“The image has dominated my thoughts since we met.” He sounded disgruntled.
Desire brushed against her senses. I have imagined kissing you as well. Never would she confess such a scandalous thought, but from the smile curving his lips, it was as if he knew her most intimate musings.
“Come, let us eat.”
“Eat?” she parroted inanely. It was then she saw the small basket tied securely behind him. “I do not think, after our vigorous race, the food will be edible. You had intended to picnic alone?”
His mouth twitched. “No.”
“So sure of me were you?”
“More like desperately hopeful.”
She laughed lightly, loving his utterance. Desperately hopeful. “I see, and what is our fare?”
“I coaxed Calydon’s cook to make us something special.”
“You have a unique relationship with the duke. You have an entire wing of Sherring Cross at your disposal and now his cook,” she teased.
“I have known him for years.” He dismounted and assisted her to the ground, careful to leave space between their bodies.
“He seems a generous employer if he allows you to coax his cook. Though I can imagine with just a smile you would have Mrs. Beaton willing to make anything for you.”
“Ah…is this your way of telling me that with a smile I can have you at my whim?”
“Absolutely not, it would take more beguilement than a mere smile to charm me. I am made of sterner stuff.”
His soft laugh brushed against her skin like temptation itself, and he was so darkly seductive he took Payton’s breath.
In silence they walked farther into the clearing, approaching a small brook. Gray clouds hovered above the sky, and a distant thunder rumbled. The day was so beautiful she prayed rain did not interrupt. In the center there was a stone table and chair. Mikhail unpacked the food on the table. A wine and some sort of confectionary.
“What is that?”
“It’s halva, made with almond. Try it,” he invited as they sat.
She took a delicate bite. Her eyes widened at the delicious flavors exploding along her taste buds. “This is wonderful.”
He had a bottle and two small glasses which he filled with a golden liquid. “This is Medovukha. I am fortunate to have an assistant who knows how to make it.”
She accepted the proffered glass and took a tentative sip. It was impossible to hold back the moan of pleasure. “That really is wonderful.”
“Now you’ll understand why Vladimir, though grouchy, is invaluable to me.”
They drank and ate in companionable silence, and Payton wondered when she had ever felt such peace. Endless days of attending balls and picnics had only ever filled her with anxiety, as she’d constantly fretted if she was doing the right thing. Had she walked gracefully enough? Giggled like a lady enough, wielded her fan the proper way? Had she waited until someone was introduced before speaking? Those days had been painful…yet there had also been the thrill of just being there amongst such nobility.
“Do you live in England?” Mikhail asked. “Or are you only visiting?”
Payton swallowed her last piece of halva. “I may eventually return to Boston, but for now I am firmly rooted here.”
“You do not sound too happy.”
She considered her words carefully. “There are wonderful things in England. I have been much exposed to arts and books, which I adore, more so than when I lived in America. I simply do not feel like I fit, and there are times I despise attending society functions.”
“Then why do you attend?”
“It is very difficult to refuse my mother or aunt or even my father. Not that I think I will be banished as my mother threatens, but I am subjected to their whims by law until I reach my majority.”
With a sigh she rose to her feet and walked along the edge of the small brook. “I do understand they wish for me to make an advantageous match and to be comfortably situated. But I believe there is more to life than being the wife of a lord.”
He stood and moved to stand beside her. He was close, the warmth of him reaching out and gliding against her skin. But she did not move away, in fact, she subtly swayed closer. “What about you, Mikhail? Will you return to Russia?”
“I will visit my family yearly, but my home is now in England.”
She heard the wistfulness in his tone, and she understood. A day had not passed that she did not reminisce on Boston, the life and friends she had left there. “And will you settle here in Norfolk?”