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thirty-seven

I sabella couldn’t stop giggling as she and Anthony made their way to the house.

After their dip into the pool, they were both drenched. Her clothes were soaked and wrinkled by the seawater, and her hair was a mess, but she’d never been happier.

He pulled her to a dark corner from which one of the French windows to the ground-floor sitting room could be seen.

“If we get in through one of the secondary entrances, we’ll avoid being seen and questioned.”

They waited until the maid sweeping the terrace left. They stole across the path to the window. He peered inside before pushing the window open. The smell of beeswax and lemon polish made her giggle again for some reason.

“Shush,” he said, smiling. “We’ll get caught.”

They crossed the sunroom, leaving wet footprints on the terracotta tiles. He paused again before stepping into the corridor. Then they went up a secondary flight of stairs.

“Could you imagine my grandmama’s face if she saw us now?”

“You don’t need to imagine anything. You have only to turn around.” The Dowager’s voice came from the other side of the hallway.

Isabella gasped, and Anthony shoved her behind him as if his grandmother were an assassin.

The Dowager stood with her arms folded over her chest and her eyes narrowed to slits. She raked a slow, assessing glance over them. The lower the gaze went, the more her lips thinned.

“What is the meaning of…this?” She waved at them and the wet patches on the floor.

“We fell into the pool,” Isabella said at the same time as Anthony said, “We took a bath.”

“Which one of the two versions is true? For heaven’s sake, you didn’t even agree on telling the same story.” She pressed two fingers to her temples. “What if the servants see you like that? Wet, dishevelled, sneaking into the house like thieves!”

“Exactly,” he said. “We must change. I’ll see you later.”

“I agree.” The Dowager waved him away. “Go to your room. Now. I’ll help Isabella.”

“But—”

“Now, Anthony.”

Before leaving, he kissed Isabella on the lips, tearing an outraged gasp from the Dowager.

“Go. Shoo.” The Dowager hurried to Isabella’s bedroom and opened the door. Before letting her in, she peered inside. “No maid. In you go.”

“I can change alone.”

“I know.” The Dowager tossed her another glance. “What happened?”

“We were working in the garden, and it was so hot we decided to take a swim.” She peeled her drenched clothes off her body.

“Is that all?”

“What do you think happened?”

“I just want to make sure he didn’t do anything to upset you.” The Dowager helped her remove the skirt, twitching her nose. “There’s mud on the fabric.”

She towelled herself dry and put on a fresh chemise and her dressing gown.

“Sit, I’ll brush your hair.” The Dowager patiently untangled Isabella’s long tresses with expert moves. “Was he kind to you?”

“Very. Anthony is gentle and caring.”

“I’m still upset with him for what he did to you.”

She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. The fact the Dowager blamed Anthony hurt, but he’d told her not to say anything.

“We did it together. Please don’t blame him. I was happy to be with him.”

“Are you happy now?” The Dowager’s tone became suddenly low. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes. Anthony is the best man I’ve ever met.”

The Dowager ran the brush down Isabella’s long hair with gentle strokes. “I love him dearly. He was a shy boy while Patrick was the cheeky one. But Anthony was always ready to protect his brother from every danger or a well-earned scold. He wants to protect those he loves.”

“He protects me, too. From myself as well. I’m happy with him.”

“I was happy with my husband as well. Our marriage was an arranged one, but we liked each other from the beginning. That was until our son died, and he sold Maiden Hill. I haven’t forgiven him, either.”

“Are you sorry we’re restoring the secret garden? It was your husband’s project.”

The Dowager smiled. “How can I be sorry when the garden is bringing so much joy to you and Anthony? No, don’t worry about me. Instead, you should be worried about Patrick.”

“Patrick?” She did her best not to gasp.

“That boy.” The Dowager released a long breath. “He wants to court Lady Sophia von Gruner, marry her. He has lost his mind.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? If he marries Sophia, there are good chances Maiden Hill will return to you.”

“You don’t know Patrick. He has a good heart, but I’ve heard him declaring his undying love for a lady more times than I care to count. He’ll seduce Sophia and leave her.”

No, she knew Patrick a little.

* * *

The night sky was clear and with no moon when Anthony got ready to watch the stars.

He was eager to show Isabella the beauty of the night on an island where there weren’t lights. Holding her hand and a lantern, he led her down the stairs to the secret garden.

The fragrance of jasmine rose from the bushes, and the rocks cooling down in the night released a salty-metallic fragrance he found intoxicating. They stretched on a picnic blanket next to the pool, in a spot where the tree branches didn’t cover the starlight.

“It’s so beautiful.” She laced her fingers through his, watching the dark velvet of the sky, and his pulse gave a kick.

“A shooting star.” He pointed at the flash of silver crossing the sky.

“I missed it.”

The crickets replaced the cicadas at night and sang their soft tune, but his heart beat louder.

“I saw one,” she said.

“Have you expressed your wish?”

“I have.” She pouted. “But it’s not coming true.”

“What did you wish for?”

“For a kiss from my husband.”

He propped himself up on his elbow and dipped his head.

She tasted of summer and roses, of hope and good dreams. He moved his lips slowly as she tangled her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer.

Only the stars witnessed their kiss in the secret garden.

He slipped his tongue past her lips and deepened the kiss. The gown she wore was thinner than the others, and the warmth of her body easily reached his skin. He caressed her breast. She drew in a deep breath as he teased her nipple with his thumb.

Her legs spread wide, allowing him to nestle between them. He held himself up not to crush her, but he had to feel her skin. A battle started as they fought to unbutton, untie, and strip each other’s clothes. The sound of a piece of fabric being ripped came, but he had no idea if it was his shirt or her skirt.

Garments were pushed aside none too gently by impatient hands. Sighs and moans mingled with heat and breath. The more he got undressed, the more his temperature rose. Then the bliss of feeling her smooth, naked skin against him stopped time.

He stilled to savour the sensation of her breasts against his chest, her leg around his hip, and her black eyes filled with awe and starlight.

They stroked each other slowly without necessarily meaning a tumble. It was a slow exploration to simply enjoy touching. He kissed her neck, and she reclined her head. A shiver pebbled her skin when he closed his mouth around her nipple and sucked gently.

He slid a hand between them to find her wet. Her hips rocked and ground against him. He drew circles, rubbing her while scattering kisses on her skin.

He pushed her legs further apart. The slit of her drawers parted and showed him all her beauty. She gasped when he ran his tongue over her. Incoherent words came out of her as he kissed her deeply, tasting her wetness. She writhed under his tongue, and he had to hold her hips still to deepen the kiss. Her release came with one of her shouts. He loved it when she shouted.

He loved hearing her wild and unrestrained, and he loved that he was the reason for her pleasure. When she sagged on the blanket, he made his way up her body. She was stunning in the soft light from the lantern and the starlight kissing her skin. She gripped him and urged him inside her.

He undid the falls of his trousers. Then it was sheer bliss. She was silk and velvet all around him. He started moving in and out of her, watching her biting her bottom lip. He felt that bite on his skin. They found their release together and held each other, sharing their breath. He lay next to her.

“It was perfect,” she whispered.

Right then, a bright, large shooting star crossed the sky, and he had only one wish—that she was happy.