The morning breezetugged at Violet’s bonnet as she stepped through the gate and onto her rented plot just outside Brighton’s outskirts. At the moment, the patch was less garden and more bare earth with half-dug rows and stakes marking where beds would eventually be. Still, there were victories. The fence had already been erected, her friends had all helped with that, and her transplanted heather had taken beautifully. Also, the few foxgloves she’d planted along the fence hadn’t sulked at their environment.
Good girls.Take root and thrive!
The rest . . . well, the rest remained potential.
Dreaming ground.
Fields of lilac heather. Purple flowing into the horizon like a painted marvel. Her soul flower? Heather, unquestionably. Foxgloves held a respectable second. Truly, she was partial to anything purple.
Even her name hinted at that particular fondness. In fact, she’d considered Heather as her name for this new chapter of her life, but she’d settled on Violet instead, since violets had been her mother’s favorite flower. And the one her father brought her mother on the day he first called on her, and every day after that.
Violet stepped around a patch of wildflowers she hadn’t yet had the heart to tear out. They were cheerful little things, utterly unruly, but their wildness had its charm. Besides, they filled the emptiness in a way freshly turned earth could not.
However, where on earth was Mr. Greeley?
Had she mistaken the meeting time?
Well, he’d done a good job so far with the time spent on the land, given that some parts had been a bit stubborn.
A faint crunch drifted from the gate behind her.
“Miss Sharpe.”
Violet’s whole body froze at the sound of her name being uttered in that deep voice. The dark notes slid down her spine, leaving gooseflesh in its shocking wake.
The Fury from last night? Here? Now?
She turned slowly, eyes falling on the impossibly tall man leaning on the inside of her gate. His frame filled the entry fully, broad and unmoving, barring her only way out. Up until this very moment, she’d refused to think about the catastrophe that was last night. She was rather talented that way, blocking unpleasant things from her head. Though the talent did have its drawbacks at times. Like now, being caught unaware and unprepared.
“Mr. Fury,” she said slowly. “To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?”
His head tilted to the side, considering her with those eerily sharp eyes. “Is it really a surprise?”
What an impossible question. Her gaze traced the scar that started from the tip of his hairline, drawing over his eyebrow, jumping the eye socket, and continuing its path to stop at his jawline. It was the first time she’d seen the scar in full daylight, and mercy, it was quite the sight.
And another, glaring reminder.
This man came from a much more dangerous world than hers, and yet it also carried the same quiet, corrosive darkness that had once defined her life. The thought unsteadied her. Who had caused such a scar on this man? She could not imagine anyone with the gall. She certainly did not wish to imagine the circumstances of such a brawl. One thing, however, could not be denied: He lived in a world where pain was ordinary, where blood was as much a language as words. The sort of world she wished to avoid at all costs.
A futile hope? Why else would she be standing here, half-terrified and half-entranced, her heart thudding because the man exuded such care-free confidence despite the danger that clung to him? Given his identity, was it any surprise he had shown himself here before her today?
Yes! Most certainly, yes!
This is why you shouldn’t just ignore certain worries, Violet. You could have prepared a better reaction.Who knew how she looked to the man at the moment. The man didn’t even push her to answer, simply stared at her, waiting.
Unnerving.
“Quite frankly, yes,” she murmured, finding it extraordinarily difficult to hold his gaze, which seemed to look straight through her soul.
He broke eye contact first, sweeping a glance over the garden. “Seems to be coming along.”
Violet clenched her hands. “Can I help you, sir?”
His gaze returned to her. The expression on his face didn’t change. Only his eyes grew colder, but it was enough to serve as a warning to this man’s nature. This Fury had a long fuse to his temper, but once lit, it might set off fireworks.
“As a matter of fact, you can.”
Lord. What could she ever help a man such as him with? Nothing about last night. Flowers, certainly. But he had nothunted her down to her plot of land for flowers. Besides those two things...
