The Scandal You Started, page 12
His gaze snapped up, and the sleepy glaze that coated his irises had her fingers tightening around the small bouquet in her hand. “It is not simply your legs I cannot take my eyes off, sweetheart,” he muttered hoarsely. “You…”
He faded off as his throat bobbed slowly, and the heat under Rayna’s skin stroked down her midsection with more purpose. If it hadn’t been for the bowl of salad in his hands, she was entirely sure he would have pounced and pinned her to the grass so he could paw her all over. At least, that’s what his feverish eyes were telling her.
“I am at war with myself,” he admitted. “I cannot for the life of me decide if I ought to cover you up and scold you for your state of undress or allow myself to admire how delightful you look. I feel as though I am losing all sense of propriety around you.”
Rayna grunted automatically. “Losing? When did you ever have it?”
There wasn’t a day or damn freaking chance that he let pass without flirting with her or ogling her, and that was excluding all the unprovoked erections he tried to hide.
His mouth flourished in a lopsided grin. “I assure you, sweet Rayna, I was a very proper gentleman before meeting you.”
She looked away with a playfully disbelieving roll of her eyes just before the front door to the Griffins’ house flew open.
“Ah, there you two are,” Declan said with a cheerful grin with Boris circling behind him.
He greeted them individually and closed the door behind them. Then Rayna led the way, with Boris bounding ahead of her through the straight corridor to the back of the farmhouse.
It was almost structured the same as the one she and Dominic were staying in, with a living room on one side, stairs on the opposite, and a short corridor to the bathroom and utility tucked behind that. But the kitchen-diner was a much bigger L-shaped area with views that overlooked the river.
There was an old-school wood kitchen in the top right and a dining table in the bottom corner that could seat eight. It was tied together by the cozy sitting space on the left with two dark-brown leather sofas perpendicular to each other, a big TV screen attached to the wall, and a bunch of wooden and glass knick-knacks that embodied the stories of the Griffins’ lives.
“Winnie, my love,” Declan called. “Tear yourself away from the cooker for a second. They’re here.”
Winnie Griffin threw a quick glance over her shoulder from where she was stirring the contents of a big, orange pot on the stove. Her bright, blue eyes popped wide in delight as her low ponytail of curly, blonde hair swished against her back.
“Oh, Rayna dear,” she chirped. “One moment.”
With another stir, she set the wooden spatula down and popped a lid on the pot. Then sashayed her curvaceous figure over to them with the biggest of grins that epitomised who she was.
The sweet, elegant, vivacious woman and mother of three had endless amounts of love and attention to give in every detail of her life. Maybe that was why even at the age of fifty-three, her skin still glowed, and her freckled cheeks were always rosy. That didn’t, however, mean she didn’t have a fiery streak to fear when someone crossed her. But Declan Griffin never let a single bad word reach his beloved wife, so Winnie rarely ever had a reason to be angry.
“Sweetie, how are you?” Winnie said and engulfed Rayna in a squishing hug as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.
“I’m good,” Rayna sang and cuddled into the woman. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been wonderful, dear.”
Rayna held out the handpicked bouquet. “These are for you.”
The older woman placed a hand over her heart and cooed happily. “Oh, they’re absolutely gorgeous. Thank you, dearest.” She took them in her arm then snuck a teasing glance at her husband. “At least you brought me flowers this week.”
Declan’s brows hooked up at the obvious insinuation, and he prowled towards her with a playful smirk. “You know exactly why I didn’t, my love. So don’t you dare try to stir trouble and make me look like a bad husband.”
The woman chuckled as Declan planted a nipping kiss on her cheek. He swiped the flowers out of her hand and instructed Boris to sit as he moved away.
Winnie then turned to Dominic, who’d been quietly observing by Rayna’s side. “I do apologise, Lord Norland, I haven’t yet introduced myself, have I? I’m Winnie Griffin, and it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
Dominic hugged the covered bowl of salad in one arm and bowed over Winnie’s outstretched hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Griffin.” He planted a soft kiss against her knuckles and rose, his eyes sparkling with a princely smile. “And please, call me Dominic.”
“Then do call me Aunt Win. Mrs Griffin sounds far too formal.”
He gave her an acquiescing nod. “Then, Aunt Win, please accept my gratitude for the delicious meal you provided us on my first day here. I do believe that was the best stew I have ever had the privilege of tasting.”
The pink under the older woman’s cheeks heightened as she waved a hand around. “It needed five more minutes in the pot, but I’m delighted to hear you enjoyed it.” She gestured to the bowl in his arms while looking at Rayna. “What did you go and make, dear?”
“Just some salad.”
“Oh, Rayna,” her aunt cooed. “You didn’t have to. But that was lovely of you.” Dominic set the bowl in Winnie’s outstretched hands. “Well, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready, so I hope you’re hungry.”
“Do you need—” Rayna started.
“Oh, no.” Winnie waved her off as she headed towards the kitchen. Boris plodded after her. “Your uncle is going to lay the table, so you and Dominic just relax. He’ll pour you drinks too.”
“Are V and George on their way?” Rayna asked, taking two steps to drop her small handbag down on the round coffee table tucked in the corner of the two sofas.
“Yes, George messaged that they were ten minutes away about five minutes ago,” her uncle said, pulling several glasses out of one wall cupboard.
“What about Benedict? Is he working a late shift today?”
Just as the question left her mouth, a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and rattled her like a pair of dice. She tore around to face a younger version of Declan Griffin, but with the bright blue eyes of his mother.
“Benedict,” she snapped, and he flinched back, cackling proudly.
Once upon a time, Benedict Griffin had been the scrawny boy with his nose stuck in books about the human body and dinosaurs, who Rayna and George had protected from bullies in school. But somewhere between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, the world took tweezers to his head and feet and stretched him until he stood nearly half a head taller than his dad.
Now at the age of twenty-six, regular rugby sessions with George had helped bulk out his frame. But with barely a hair on his chin, he still had that nerdy, boyish look to him with a twinkling smile, pale golden skin, and floppy brown hair that he tended to keep on the shorter side.
Throw in the fact he’d recently graduated as a doctor, and it was easy to see why he attracted men and women alike. Thankfully, his parents’ upbringing had kept his ego from inflating as a result. And when he needed to be brought back down, Rayna and George never failed to remind him of the sobbing, snot bubbles he’d blown all those years ago.
“You freaking cracked my neck, you idiot,” Rayna said, raising her hand to whack him.
He put his palms up to protect himself, still giggling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You were standing with your back to me. I just had to.”
His blue irises danced as he stood there grinning, while Rayna reasoned with her annoyance.
“Hello,” he said with the quiet cheekiness of a brother who knew he was safe from harm now that he had the advantage of height and size.
Rayna’s lips edged into a smile as she sighed and shook her head. “Hello to you too, you dumbass.”
Benedict chuckled, then trapped her in a quick bear hug, nearly squeezing her up off the floor. “How are you? How was your holiday? I haven’t seen you since you came back, have I?”
“I’m good, it was great, and no, you haven’t. You were working the day we moved in. How have you been?”
“Yeah, good. Hospital shifts are still tough, but uh…” With an awkward scratch at his temple, Benedict bent towards Rayna. “Why’s he, uh…glaring at me?”
“Who?” Rayna said as she searched for the “he” in question and stilled when she found him.
Dominic.
And well…he was glaring. Holding a glass of juice in each hand as Boris dropped his favourite chew toy at Dominic’s feet, hoping he’d play with him.
But Dominic didn’t look like he was in any mood to play with that dark scowl, his permanently shadowed jaw rocking from side to side as his eyes flicked between her and Benedict.
He didn’t seem angry exactly, not in the way he’d looked at Victor at least, but the deep twist between his brows seemed to crinkle between confusion, irritation, accusation, and betrayal as if she’d broken a sacred promise.
Which made no utter sense, unless...unless…
Was he fucking jealous? Again? Of Benedict? Seriously?
Chapter 14
Dominic
Dominic couldn’t explain why a swarm of restless, green wasps was crashing around inside him as he watched a young, pleasant-looking Benedict Griffin hug his fiery little Rayna.
Actually…it had a lot to do with the man being young and pleasant-looking in the refined way all the unmarried ladies of the ton would have swooned over. And Dominic wasn’t daft to think he could compete in that department, even if they were of a similar height. Very little about his roughened face and bullish size was refined.
But Benedict was family to Rayna from what Dominic understood, so it shouldn’t have mattered the way he looked, nor the way he touched her with such ease and familiarity.
Maybe it was just the foreignness of it all, the open affection, the little clothing Rayna had on, but every second they touched twisted at the perverse possessiveness Dominic held for her.
He had no real reason to be jealous. Except…
I wish to hold her thus. I want her to welcome me in her arms too.
It was pathetic of him. But the whimpered voice echoed through his bones, making them near ache with yearning.
It was witchcraft. It had to be. She’d trapped him in her most powerful spell.
Did he want to break free? Neves, no. Not at all.
Thankfully, as the night went on, through dinner and post-dinner board games, Dominic’s jealousy lost all the wind behind its sails.
It became increasingly obvious that the dynamic between Rayna, Benedict, and George was that of troublesome siblings just like his own. They competitively argued over the property game they played, threatened each other with knives and fists, and then snickered and grumbled as they were scolded by Winnie, Declan, and Victor alike.
The exact relationship between Rayna and Victor, though, in fact, Rayna, Victor, and George, was still unclear. But asking directly didn’t seem possible when every time Dominic hovered in Rayna’s vicinity, Victor’s hands closed around the closest sharp object with a bitter scowl.
It meant that at some point in the evening, while Declan, Victor, Winnie, and Rayna chatted around the dining table, Dominic found himself sitting between Benedict and George on a sofa.
“There,” Benedict said, handing Dominic back his smart mobile phone. “Now you can watch endless videos of mindless modern entertainment. You just scroll like this.” Benedict swiped up on the screen, and a video of a ginger cat chasing its tail started playing.
“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to put him on social media yet,” George said, taking a sip from the aluminium can in his hand.
Benedict waved him off. “He needs exposure to modern culture to fit in, and this is the best way he’s going to get it.”
“He’s going to see something inappropriate and be traumatised.”
“No, he won’t,” Benedict said. “Dominic, you’ve had your internet safety talk, right?”
Dominic nodded. “Yes. After River showed me how to use the phone, he spoke of passwords, internet scams, and…” He faded off as his eyes darted to the two women in the room. He lowered his voice, a faint heat touching his cheeks. “And porn.”
Dominic had seen his fair share of inappropriate drawings as an adolescent that he and his friends lusted over once women became objects of desire. He’d even attended a clandestine ball once as an adult, held by a duke who enjoyed tupping multiple prostitutes in front of an audience, where Dominic discovered he didn’t at all like watching.
But none of that could have prepared him for the flood of shocked embarrassment he felt when River explained to him what porn was. Not even his usual curiosity could have convinced him to search up such scandalous websites, let alone actually watch it.
A massive grin burst onto Benedict’s face. “See, he knows already. He’ll be fine.”
George shook his head in disapproval. “Rayna’s gonna be pissed. And I’m gonna blame you.”
“That’s why Dominic isn’t going to tell her until they’re back in their own house.” Benedict nudged Dominic’s arm with his elbow. “Right?”
Rather than answering, Dominic’s gaze slid past the grinning man to Rayna as she laughed at what had been said along with Declan. Winnie threw her hands around in animated chatter, which made Rayna laugh delightfully louder, and she flopped into Victor’s side. The spectacled man smiled softly, then planted his lips to her hair in a quick, loving kiss.
Dominic immediately faced George, unable to hold the question in any longer. “What is your relation to Victor and Rayna?”
Caught off guard, George’s brows lifted as he lowered the can from his mouth. “What do you mean? Didn’t Rayna tell you? We’re family.”
“Yes. That is what she said. But how? You do not look anything alike.”
“Oh. We’re adopted. Victor’s our adoptive dad.”
“Adopted?” Dominic echoed.
“As in, in the eyes of the law, he’s their parent,” Benedict clarified. “Their guardian. Legally speaking.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes in consideration.
So Victor had created a legal document to make Rayna and George his children?
He stilled.
Wait. They were his children…Victor was Rayna’s father?
Oh…Oh.
Cold realisation trickled through Dominic’s blood.
He’s her father.
That realisation quickly solidified into dread as he dared to glance at the man.
Fuck. Shit.
Bloody woods, no wonder the man hated him.
Dominic scowled at Rayna as he lay atop her bedding later that night, back in their own farmhouse. She tapped on her mobile phone, oblivious to his foul mood.
With one final press of her thumb, Rayna stretched over and placed the device on the bedside cabinet. She returned to her position on her back with a rustling wriggle.
“What is it?” she said, her bottomless eyes illuminated by the lamplight to his back. “Why have you been staring at me like I kicked your puppy?”
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
Her eyes darted away before crinkling in confusion. “No? Is there something I was supposed to tell you?”
He untangled his crossed arms in a burst of outrage. “Victor Johnson,” he accused. “I have asked you on many occasions who he was to you, yet every time you brushed me off. I had to discover from George that he was your adoptive father. Your father. Why did you fail to inform me of this?”
Her brows eased up, casting a wary blankness over her features. “Why does it matter that I didn’t tell you?”
Why…does it matter? Why does it matter? Had this damned woman just asked him why it mattered? Was she bloody serious?
Had she forgotten how he’d strangled her then rutted like a shameless animal with the hopes of bedding her, while her father watched from the other side of a glass screen?
Her father!
To make matters worse, Dominic had then proceeded to insult Victor when he’d only been worried about his daughter, having assumed they were lovers. Then he’d cornered Rayna into being his Guardian against Victor’s wishes. Oh, and he’d insulted George—his son—too.
Had another man done to one of his sisters what he had done to Rayna, Dominic would have severed the man’s head from his body in the slowest, most painful way possible.
“Of course it matters,” he rumbled. “Have you forgotten how atrociously I behaved in that room? Had I known he was your father, I would never have offended him in nearly every way humanly possible, and then neglected to apologise profusely.”
“You shouldn’t have offended him anyway, whether you knew he was my father or not. You can’t treat someone better or worse based on what their relationship to someone else is.”
The line of frustration between his brows deepened. “You are being purposely obtuse to what I am saying, Rayna.” Her own frown pinched tighter, but he stormed on ahead. “Yes, my behaviour to him regardless was inexcusable. But no father ought to be forced to watch his daughter being harassed only to then himself battle with the same man. Had I known sooner who he was, I would have earnestly apologised for what I subjected you to.”
Rayna lifted her head higher on her pillow with an angry jerk. “Considering I’m the one who you actually harassed, Dominic, I don’t see why you think it’s more important to apologise to V just because he’s my dad. Apologise to him for how you treated him. But to apologise to him because of something you did to me makes no fucking sense.”
Guilt wormed its way through his stomach, causing him to fumble over his words. “That is not—I would not dare apologise to him without apologising to you. I have apologised to you. Neither am I saying he deserves an apology more than you, Rayna, but he is your father—”
“Dominic,” she interrupted, but her glare had waned. “I understand that to you insulting a woman is the same as insulting her male relatives—”
