At eleven o’clock the following Friday night, Reese knocked on the door of the old tailor’s shop, feeling more like himself than he had in months.
Sophie’s advice had helped. He’d forced himself to drink the bitter herb potion. He’d ridden his horse and spent time napping outdoors. But mostly, he’d thought about her.
He’d thought about her as he spent hours every day completing the list of gardening chores she’d provided. It had taken him two whole mornings of poking around in the moat with a fishing net to strain out all the algae and debris. He’d sanded and painted the footbridge; he’d weeded and trimmed the vegetation along the walkways and in front of Rex.
If he was uncertain whether he should remove a stalk or leave it, he always erred on the side of leaving it—because he knew that’s what Sophie would want.
When an appalled groundskeeper discovered Reese working in the garden, he’d tried to take over, but Reese wouldn’t allow it.
He wanted this project. Needed this work. Craved this connection to Sophie.
Every sore muscle and aching joint reminded him of her, and somehow, that made it easier for him to sleep a few hours each night.
Now that Friday had arrived, he wanted time to slow to a crawl. The hackney cab waited one block over, ready to take Sophie and him back to Warshire Manor.
When at last she smiled and waved at him through the window of the tailor’s shop, his chest squeezed. The next twelve hours were all theirs.
He’d known she’d be eager to see the garden again, so as soon as they alighted from the cab, he set her bag inside the front door, grabbed a lantern, and led the way through the house and out the back door.
The night was warm and overcast, making it difficult to see beyond the light of the lantern, but Sophie seemed to notice everything.
“The footbridge,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Reese, the black finish is perfect—such a stark but beautiful contrast to the white stone of Cerberus. I love that he’s in full view now, too, taking up his post as our loyal guard dog.”
He tried not to grin at her use of the pronoun our, but felt his face crack anyway. “You can have a better look at everything in the morning. All the tasks on the original list are completed, so you’ll need to let me know what you’d like to see accomplished next.”
“Yes,” she mused. “I’m sure there’s more that could be done to restore this place, but I’ll need to think on it … after I’ve spent some more time here.”
He stroked his jaw to hide the smile that resurfaced at the thought of her spending more time at Warshire Manor. “Are you tired?” he asked.
“Not really.” She slowly circled the large stone pavilion at the center of the garden till she met back up with Reese. “Are you?”
“No,” he said. “I was thinking that if you don’t mind walking a little farther, I could show you the lake.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said, wistful. “But I fear it’s too dark for us to see anything properly.”
“Why don’t we give it a try?” he suggested. “If it’s too dark, we’ll head back to the house.”
“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Sophie said, shrugging her slender shoulders. “And an evening walk might be just the thing to induce sleepiness.”
“If you say so.” He shot her a smile. Wished he could take her hand and hold it all the way to the lake.
It would have been completely natural for him to do so, and lately it was becoming more difficult to stop himself from reaching for her. Somehow, he knew that her skin would be soft and warm and that the pressure of her palm against his would be just right.
The more he’d come to know Sophie, the more he craved her touch. Thought about it day and night—while he worked in the garden and while he lay in his bed.
And he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than hold her hand.
Sometimes Sophie looked at him as if she wanted to touch him too. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but every so often, her gorgeous blue eyes seemed to glow with affection … and simmer with desire.
Even so, Reese resolved that he wouldn’t be the one to cross the clear boundary she’d set. It was a matter of trust, and he suspected that the only reason she occasionally let down her guard with him was because she felt safe.
In some ways, their whole relationship depended on that trust, and he couldn’t jeopardize it, no matter how much he might wish to hold her hand.
So he settled for picking up the lantern and holding it between them as they ambled across the lawn, down the hill, and past the copse of trees where they’d spent the night last week. He led her through a wooded area, then paused just before they reached the clearing.
Sophie turned to him, expectant. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” he said, grinning as he held the lantern aloft. “Follow the path, right between those two trees—and then you’ll see the lake.”
Sophie looked down at the dirt path, taking care to step over sticks and small rocks. She thought it very sweet that Reese wanted to show her the lake, but she couldn’t imagine there would be much to see, especially since there was no moonlight to speak of.
In fact, it was so dark she rather hoped that she didn’t walk directly into the lake before she’d spotted it. But it did seem that they were almost to a clearing. The brush ahead wasn’t so thick, and a breeze tickled the curls at her nape.
“There,” Reese purred in her ear. “Look up, Sophie.”
She did, and her breath caught in her throat.
At the bottom of a gently sloping hill, dozens of colorful lanterns bobbed from the boughs of a huge, ancient oak along the lakeshore. Like a swarm of glowworms celebrating the arrival of summer, the lights danced above, painting the water red, blue, yellow, and green.
Beyond the tree, a wooden pier extended several yards into the lake, and dozens of small lanterns placed at the edge glittered above the water like chandeliers at a mermaid ball. At the end of the pier, a collection of jewel-toned pillows and plush quilts beckoned.
The entire effect was dazzling.
“Reese,” Sophie whispered. “How did you do this?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “Do you like it?”
“Yes.” Her voice cracked on that one little word. “I love it.” Her heart was so full of joy that her chest actually hurt. She hadn’t known, till then, that joy could do that to a person. She rubbed the spot on her chest just above her heart, trying to ease the ache away.
“Go have a look,” Reese urged. “It’s all for you.”
“It’s for us,” she said. “Let’s go.” With that, she picked up her skirts and ran down the hill toward the lake as fast as she dared, Reese on her heels. When she reached the oak, she was laughing and breathless and dizzy with delight. She leaned against the thick tree trunk, tipped her head back, and gazed up at the lanterns above. “You must see the view from here,” she said to Reese. “It’s like standing under a parasol made of rainbows.”
He chuckled as he strode toward the oak and leaned against the opposite side of the trunk. He was so near that she could feel the frisson of heat between them. Her palms were pressed against the rough bark; his were too. All she had to do was slide her hands toward his—just an inch—and their fingers would be touching.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice a caress. “It’s like a rainbow parasol.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, basking back-to-back in their private, colorful cocoon, listening to water lap against the shore. And though they never actually made contact, Sophie felt Reese all around her.
He was the rough, solid trunk pressing into her back. The long, fragrant grass tickling the tops of her feet. The warm evening air kissing her neck.
At last he said, “Would you like to walk out on the pier? There’s a basket of food there if you’re hungry.”
She pushed herself away from the tree and twirled around till she faced him. The light of the lanterns created shadows beneath his cheeks, nose, and jaw, making him look distinctly masculine—and dangerously handsome.
“You thought of everything,” she said, more than a little touched. “I’ll never want to leave.”
“Then don’t.” He stared back at her, his face impassive and intense. “You can stay as long as you want, Sophie.”
The ache in her chest flared again, but she managed a smile. “Why don’t we make the most of tonight?”
“Yes,” he said, shoving himself off the tree. “We’ll enjoy tonight.”
She took her time as she walked along the shore, reaching down to let the tall grass run between her fingers. Reese followed a short distance behind, as though he wanted to give her time and space to explore the lake as she wished.
When she reached the pier, she paused, taking a moment to savor the view. The planks stretched out before her, illuminated by lanterns on both sides. She glided down the pier with the same solemnity, the same wonder, as a bride marching down the aisle on her wedding day.
She hadn’t had much time to write in her journal of late, but she’d write about this. She needed to capture this feeling and preserve a little of the magic—to sustain her years from now, when her life would no doubt be tragically mundane.
Sophie walked to the very end of the pier, where she could almost imagine she floated in the middle of the lake. The quilts were spread there, side by side, with half a dozen pillows all around.
A nosegay of pink peonies tied with a white satin ribbon lay atop a sapphire silk cushion. She sank to her knees and lifted the bouquet to her face. “These are my favorites,” she said, looking up at Reese. “I don’t remember seeing a peony bush in the garden.”
He grinned at her as he sat on the other quilt. “They’re not from the Underworld. They’re from … someplace else. For you.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. She could already picture the blossoms pressed between the pages of her diary—along with the yellow rose and the flower crown she’d already tucked inside for safekeeping.
He gestured toward the basket. “Would you like something to eat? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“I’m not hungry, but please help yourself. And a glass of wine would be lovely.”
He poured a rich, purple-red claret into a pair of goblets and handed one to her. “Shall we have a toast?” he asked.
“I think we must,” she said, hoping he’d say something poignant and romantic … and also hoping he wouldn’t.
He frowned as he thought for a moment, then said, “To guard dogs named Rex, rainbow parasols, and you.” His eyes gazed deep into hers. “Your turn.”
“Let’s see,” she mused before raising her glass. “To bouquets of peonies, starless nights, and you.”
They clinked their glasses and sipped, thoughtful.
Reese stretched out his legs, leaned back on one palm, and looked out at the tranquil water. Sophie stared at his profile, trying to decipher the emotions that flickered over his face. “What are you thinking about right now?” she asked.
He swallowed and kept looking out at the lake. At first, she feared he wouldn’t answer, but at last, he said, “I was remembering all the days Edmund and I spent here. Swimming, fishing, paddling around in a leaky rowboat.”
“You must miss him,” she said.
“He was the sort of person who charmed everyone he met. At ease anywhere from a pub to a ballroom to the floor of Parliament. Everybody loved him.” Reese picked a pebble off the pier and flung it into the water. “He couldn’t have been more different from me … but he was my best friend.”
“I think that you are more like him than you realize,” Sophie reasoned. “You’ve charmed me.” That last part had slipped out before she could stop it, but she didn’t regret saying the words. Reese deserved to know he was good and kind too, and if she could hold up a mirror to help him realize that truth, then she was happy to do it.
“I’m nothing like Edmund,” Reese said flatly. “He was honorable and decent and good.”
“So are you.” She leaned forward and craned her neck, forcing him to look at her. “You are all those things.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Sophie,” he said, adamant. “You don’t know all that I’ve done. Trust me when I say that my brother’s the one that should be here now.”
“I’m so sorry that he’s gone, Reese. I’m so sorry that there’s a hole left in your heart. But I know this for certain—I’m very glad that you’re here now. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”
“Except maybe Singleton?” He shook his head as though disgusted with himself. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not sure why I did.”
“It’s all right,” she said softly.
“You’re still going to marry him?”
Her stomach clenched. “Yes. But I meant what I said just now. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you.”
He said nothing to that, but quickly drained his glass of wine and abruptly stood up.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“For a swim.” He tugged off one boot, then the other.
“Right now?”
“I need to cool off.” He’d already shrugged off his jacket and was tugging at his cravat.
Sophie endeavored not to stare as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and hauled it over his head. His torso was lean and muscular, with gorgeous planes and ridges and a smattering of scars over his chest and back. His skin, tanned and shimmering with perspiration, made her mouth water.
She parted her lips to speak but wasn’t sure what to say. Why should she care if he went for a swim? The night was warm, and he had energy to spare.
A vigorous swim might be just the thing to help him sleep.
But the sight of him shirtless might be just the thing that made her lie awake in her bed for many, many nights to come.