It was half past three when Raffles finally returned. He had left without a word after lunch, and I had, though accustomed as I was to his secretive ways, grown somewhat worried—it was not in his habit these days to go out in daylight without reason, and especially not without me. But now there he was, walking up the garden path in his coat and cap, with a smile on his face, and with the winter sunshine casting silver in his white hair.
“Mr Ralph is back,” said I, trying to hide my relief.
“And just in time,” said our dear landlady, who had just put the kettle on the stove. “Well, I knew he would not keep us waiting—there is a gentleman if ever I saw one, there is.”
I smiled to myself, as I watched him through the kitchen window, thinking of one or two instances when one might have thought differently—but she was right, of course; and if he was not forgiven before, he certainly was the moment he stepped into the kitchen and met my eye with a brilliant smile, the sunshine seeming still to radiate from every part of him.
“I hope I’m not late,” he said, “but it was far too beautiful a day not to take the long way through the park. And then,” he continued, “I simply could not resist…”
And from behind his back, he presented a bouquet of white roses.
“For the Lady of the House,” he said, with a small bow, “and the prettiest lady in Richmond, if I may say so.”
“Oh, Mr Ralph!” she blushed.
And she put the flowers in a vase, and gushed over them for a few moments before getting back to the tea. I smiled, and was prepared to meet the same fond look from Raffles; but when I met his eye, there was something of anticipation in it.
“I’m going to wash up before we sit down,” he said, and gestured at me to follow him.
So I did, into the hallway, where he took my hand and dragged me into the sitting room. There he gently pressed me to the wall, putting a finger to his lips.
“Now this,” said he then in a low voice, sticking his hand into his coat, “is just for you.”
He took out a single deep-red rose, smooth and fine as velvet, and placed its thorny stem carefully in my hand. For a moment I could but stare, too surprised and moved by the simple gesture to speak; but there was no need for words when Raffles proceeded to place a gentle finger under my chin, and kiss me tenderly.
“Thank you,” I whispered as we parted.
He stroke my cheek, and looked at me for a moment with a sparkling light in his eye.
“There is nothing but love out there today, Bunny,” he smiled. “I must admit it made me homesick.”
“You could have asked me to come with you.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he teased, but put his arms around me, and leaned in to kiss my neck. I closed my eyes in pleasure, and a shiver went down my spine as he murmured against my skin, “I want you tonight.”
“You have me,” I breathed.
I felt his smile as his lips travelled up my neck, my jaw, to finally meet my lips again.
“Tea is ready!” was heard from the kitchen; and, unwillingly, we broke apart. Raffles smiled and stroked my hair; I gave his hand a press, with a promise for later; and then I carefully placed the rose among the books on my writing desk before we returned to the sunlit kitchen, and to our landlady’s motherly efforts.
