Page 46 of An Earl to Remember
She laughed, the sound so damn sweet he wanted to hoard it and make it a part of himself.
“You only used too much salt and herbs.”
Reaching over, he removed her plate and set it aside. “I do not care too much of what I used. You will not eat another bite.”
Setting her elbows on the table, his wife propped her chin on her open palms. “A chef must always taste as they cook.”
He lifted a brow. “I never tasted once.”
“I know,” she said tenderly, that enigmatic glow in her eyes.
Daniel lifted the bottle of wine. “At least I got the best wine in town, hmm? We shall drink until we are foxed.”
Her eyes widened. “The best wine in town? Nay, husb…” Her breath stuttered, and Georgianna lowered her lashes, hiding her expression from him. “Husband,” she continued softly, as if she savored the word. “You’ve not had the best wine until you’ve tasted mine.”
His wife rose and beckoned him to follow her. She ran ahead of him, looking like a woodland fairy whenever she glanced over her shoulder to ensure he followed. Daniel was curious and enchanted. He ran after her until they reached the orchard he’d never explored.
Dozens of orange and peach trees were in bloom, and as they walked deeper into the grove, the fallen leaves shuffled around their feet. A stone bench with a fountain was within the heart of the grove, and she motioned for him to sit. He obliged, watching as she took a small shovel, went under one of the peach trees, and started to dig. A few minutes later, she withdrew an earthen jug. Rising, she stared at it for a long time, a poignant expression on her face. She walked over, sat beside him, and held it out.
“I daresay this will be the best wine to drink today.”
“Indeed?”
“Mama and I made it,” she said softly. “Then we buried it out here. Mama always said the best wines are stored in mud jars, buried in soil for years. The wine is then sweeter and more flavorful and intoxicating.”
“How long has it been buried?”
“Almost six years. It was one of the last things my mother and I did before…before she died in the train accident.”
A memory pricked at him, that one of his good friends, an earl, lost his parents as well in a horrific train crash. Daniel tensed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He was good friends with an earl? The very idea was preposterous. Shaking the elusive memory away, he peered down at his wife. The sadness on her face cut into him like a knife. He wanted to wipe it away and replace that look only with contentment. Daniel lowered his head and kissed the corner of her mouth.
A soft shudder went through her. “Will you drink it with me?”
“I’d be honored, wife.”
She smiled, opened the lid of the jar, lifted it to her mouth, and drank. Georgianna handed the jar to him, and he took several healthy swallows, almost moaning at the rich, lush taste.
“What kind of wine is this?”
“Peach and orange wine. It’s Mama’s secret recipe.”
“You would make a bloody fortune selling this.” He took several more swallows before handing the jar to her, and they sat there in the grove, drinking wine, leaves falling around them like soft clouds to settle on the ground.
“I daresay this is one of my best birthdays,” she said, smiling, leaning over to rest the side of her head on his shoulder.
Yet the day has been so simple.
“It is only the beginning of many, wife,” he said gruffly, wanting to lay the world at her feet.
His wife lifted her head to stare at him, and the yearning he spied in the depths of her eyes stole his breath.
A sad smile touched her mouth. “Daniel…there is something I have to tell you. I…” She closed her eyes, biting into her lower lip with such force, it would surely bruise.
He cupped her cheeks, and she hugged the jar of wine to her chest, as if holding on to it anchored her against whatever tore at her.
“Look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered open slowly, her regard lowered to his mouth, and her cheeks pinkened prettily.
