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thirty-six

I sabella couldn’t believe how beautiful the secret garden was.

After the gardeners had cleared the path and the statues of weeds, she had an idea of how wide the garden was. Green moss still covered the statues and the marble steps, and catchweed vines choked some beautiful flowers. But aside from that, the corner of the Mediterranean Sea promised to be a spectacular paradise.

“There’s so much to do,” she said as Anthony walked next to her, surveying the garden. “The ornamental plants need to be freed from the choking vines and brambles. Then we can plant everything we want.” She turned around. He was staring at her, smiling. “Did I say something funny?”

His smile widened. “No. It’s wonderful to see you happy.” He took her face and kissed her lips.

She kissed him back. Kissing him had become a normal occurrence in a short time. Not just an occurrence, but she needed his kisses, caresses, and smiles. More than the physical contact, she craved his kindness.

“I’m so glad you forgave me.” She took his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek. “I can’t believe you were so generous to me, and I’m happy you gave me the opportunity to stay here with you.”

“How could I not?”

“You didn’t ask questions…”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Patrick and ruin the beautiful relationship they’d built. But on the other hand, he had to know the truth. Or maybe she should wait to talk to Patrick in person since she hadn’t had the heart to send him that letter. She rubbed her forehead, confused.

“We’ll talk, but not now. Not here.” Pain cracked his voice, and she felt his pain in her chest. “This is our corner of only happiness.”

She hugged him, promising to do her best to repay him for his kindness.

* * *

After hours of work, during which a few more special flowers had been uncovered and freed from the weeds, Isabella sat on a picnic blanket next to Anthony. Cook had prepared a basket for them filled with fresh Mediterranean fruits, sandwiches, and cold drinks.

The shadow of a large cluster pine tree offered shelter from the sun, and the rhythmic song of the cicadas made her sleepy, especially after having pulled weeds and potted plants in the sun.

Anthony had dispensed with his jacket and waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, showing muscular arms. His hair was pulled back and held by a string because he’d complained about his curls ending up in front of his eyes while he worked.

The result was that the scar was fully exposed, and while she shivered as a phantom pain stung her, thinking of the agony he must have experienced, she liked it. The scar suited him. It gave him a wild look she found charming.

She removed her boots and stockings and wiggled her toes in the sun.

He drank from a flask of water. “It’s so different from London here. So peaceful.”

“I love this place. And we have our own private beach.”

“It’s spectacular at night. Tonight is Saint Lawrence’s night. It’s the night when the Perseids, the meteors of the Swift-Tuttle comet, come close to the earth and light the sky with shooting stars. Let’s watch the stars together tonight.”

“Yes.” She fanned herself. “It’ll surely be cooler than it is now. I wish I could take a bath.”

“In our private beach? By all means. Go ahead.”

“Anyone might come here.”

“Not if I lock the door. Your wish is my command.”

She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced at the inviting pool of water. “Yes.”

As he went to lock the door to the secret garden, she studied the pool. It didn’t have a visible opening to the sea. The mysterious underground connection with the sea worried her.

“Is it safe?” she asked Anthony. “I won’t be sucked into a rocky pipe that will spit me out into the sea and splatter me over the rocks, will I?”

He frowned. “You have a rather morbid imagination. The pool is not dangerous, not when the sea is calm, anyway. But I’ll go first.” He started to unbutton his shirt.

She didn’t turn around. After last night, her curiosity for his body had increased, and he didn’t seem to mind she watched. His body could rival those of the Greek statues so well-defined it was. One sharp ridge after the other, the muscles contracted under his tanned skin. The sun had sprinkled freckles over his face, arms, and neck.

Her face warmed when he slid into the pool.

He was immersed up to his shoulders, and what was visible warranted a lot of appreciation. Drops of water trickled down his neck. His auburn hair had acquired a red-golden hue since he spent so much time in the sunlight, and the colour suited him. Even the freckles dotting his nose were perfect.

“See? Perfectly safe.” He folded his arms over the ridge of the pool. “There’s a crack through which the water comes in. I can feel the light current with my foot, but the opening is too narrow for a person—” He shouted before sinking and disappearing from view.

“Anthony!” She rushed to the pool and dived into the water without thinking. “Anthony!”

Perhaps the crack had sucked him in, and his leg was stuck. He would drown!

She was about to dip when he emerged in front of her, sending sprays of water everywhere.

“And here I am,” he said, laughing. “Did you fall for it?”

She didn’t crack a smile as she tasted the saltiness of the water on her lips. “I was scared to death.” Her voice broke. “I thought you were stuck underwater.”

“It was a joke.” He brushed his wet hair from his face.

“It wasn’t funny!” She swatted his shoulder and started crying for no reason other than the scare.

“I’m sorry.” He hugged her, and she rested her cheek on his chest. “I didn’t think you would take it seriously.”

“I did. My heart stopped for a moment.”

He caressed her head and back in slow circles until she stopped crying.

She sniffled. “I know I’m silly, but I was truly scared.”

“No need to apologise.” He kissed her temple.

She sagged against him, even though she didn’t shiver anymore. Being hugged and cuddled was too nice, and the water cooled down her hot skin through her gown.

The weather was too hot to wear her usual layers of petticoats, so her skirt didn’t weigh as much as it should. Still, she ought to remove it and let it dry in the sun before returning to the house. She fumbled with the ties until her skirt and petticoat were free.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I want a proper bath.”

Removing the wet skirt required some gymnastics, but she managed. She propped her wet clothes on the ridge of the pool. Much better. He stepped back and faced the rocks while she removed her shirt, likely because she’d reacted badly the other night.

She paused to ponder if she should remove even her chemise and drawers. The fabric was all soaked through anyway. When she peeled off the wet undergarments, a sense of freedom made her feel lighter. And the water was deliciously cool. She let out a sigh of relief, dipping her head.

He craned his neck to glance over his shoulder. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. Don’t leave. Please. You were right. I’ve had enough of hiding.”

He remained where he was, facing the rocks. His back was broader than she’d thought, and the water enhanced the shape of his body.

Maybe it was the beautiful garden and the lack of clothes, or the sudden sense of freedom she was experiencing, but she didn’t care about many things at the moment. Not about being a duchess, nor about her sense of guilt and the truth she had still to tell.

She slipped her hand into his, feeling his strong fingers, and gently tugged it until he turned around. She had to tilt her head back to stare up at him, at his beauty.

She wanted to say many things, too many, so she didn’t say anything.

His gaze slipped down for a moment before returning to her face. She ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder, neck, and cheek. Her strong, sweet husband. She caressed his broad chest and abdomen, and he let her explore.

When he put his hands on her waist, she gasped at the strong sensation of his hands on her naked skin. He lifted her to kiss her, his eyes darkening with hunger. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moved her hips against him. The feeling of him was ten times stronger than when she’d been with Patrick. She’d enjoyed herself with Patrick, but the safety Anthony radiated made everything stronger, more visceral.

“Am I going to hurt you?” His voice sounded strained as if he were in pain. “Is it safe?”

“Yes.” She kissed him hard, surprising herself. She was desperate to feel him, to feel his body against hers, to be with him. “Make me your wife.”

He matched her passion, devouring her mouth with dominating kisses. Heated flushes warmed her body. They fought to kiss and touch every inch of each other.

She panted, rocking her hips against him. His large hands took her waist and lifted her. Lowering her, he started to slip inside her. A moan escaped her as he stretched her slowly.

“Are you hurt?” He paused, stroking her buttocks.

“No. It’s wonderful.”

Still, he inched deeper gently, watching her face with awe.

Her body was tender and sensitive, or maybe she was simply nervous, but the tenderness became sheer pleasure. When he was sheathed in her, a low groan rumbled from his chest. He held her still for a long time before kissing her savagely. And she loved it.

She did her best to move her hips with him. Water splashed around as he thrust faster and deeper. She sank her fingernails into his back as a combination of maddening need and burning pleasure overwhelmed her. She rocked her hips faster.

He became more urgent until her body shook with a powerful release. She cried out and sagged against him. He roared his pleasure, quivering against her.

Just like the vines she kept weeding out, she clung to him as if her own existence depended on that. She felt that, if she let him go, she would never find him again. Or herself.

The water lapped at their bodies lazily in stark contrast to the frenzy that had taken them.

He kissed her neck and breasts without hurry, trailing his soft lips over her skin. Each gentle brush of his lips and tongue left her breathless and her skin tingling.

Where did all that pleasure come from? It must have been hidden inside her body, lingering, waiting for this perfect moment to come out like a torrent engorged by a summer storm.

“I love you, Anthony.” The words flowed naturally out of her because they were true.

He hugged her tightly, swallowing before answering. “I love you, wife of mine.”