Page 65 of One Night with an Earl

At the mention of his family, the fingers of her free hand clenched her skirts. “Oh?” she asked, attempting to keep her voice light.

“I like to think of myself as more vested in the people than the luxuries of the estate.”

“Careful. You sound selfless.”

“I’m not entirely selfless. I kept you up late last night.”

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, and her lips curled in a genuine smile. “I told you it was a lovely evening. I’ll be sad when I return to town and the coal smoke mars the night sky. I shall miss the stars.”

“Dare I hope that the stars are not all that you will miss?”

Her heart stalled in her chest. The truth echoed in her head, her heart. She would miss him…miss him terribly. “No, that is not all. I shall miss you, my lord.”

His eyes were deep and turbulent, filled with unmistakable satisfaction. “You should know that I anxiously look forward to returning to London. And to you.”

Sweet heaven. The raw need in his gaze made her senses spin. Her lips parted to tell him that she felt the same, but they had arrived at the entrance to the iron-and-glass building.

“Here we are,” he said.

She faced the door, and her image reflected in the glass panel. For a heart-pounding moment, the image shimmered, then altered, and she saw her mother’s face staring back at her. A sliver of wariness returned.

“I’m curious. Why choose to visit here before you have to leave?” he asked.

She blinked, and the vision disappeared. What could she say without further drawing his curiosity? “I have yet to tour this part of the estate during my visit.” The truth.

“Are you interested in horticulture or gardening?”

She recalled the humid air and scent of the flowering plants as much as she recalled her mother’s perfume, a light lemongrass. How could she explain?

For a frightening moment, she was tempted to tell him the truth, to tell him about her family’s tragic past and what Rosedown meant to her. Her tongue felt heavy and thick in her throat. She’d grown more comfortable around him, even enjoyed spending time with him, and that could be the most dangerous of all. No good could come from the full truth, no matter her growing feelings for him.

She was aware of him watching her, of his probing dark eyes that could reach into her soul.

She met his gaze and shrugged a shoulder. “I simply like flowers, and I enjoyed the vases of exotic blooms in the manor’s vestibule each morning. I assumed they came from this conservatory?”

“They do.” He watched her quizzically but did not prod or inquire further. Then he reached past her to open the handle. “Allow me to show you everything.”

…

She was lying.

Oliver knew Ana was withholding a secret, but why? Why would she conceal something so trivial as her interest in gardening? It made no sense. After their romantic evening stargazing, when they had connected, he knew she was holding back. He hadn’t questioned her about her past when they were looking at the night sky. He’d only wanted to share his enjoyment of astrology with her and to please her.

At least she’d told him she’d miss him. That was enough to last the long days he’d have to remain in the country.

He still wanted to know all her secrets, to peel away her layers until she was physically and emotionally bared. Never had he cared that much about a woman before.

He’d had a prior affair with a widow who’d claimed she longed to share his bed. When she’d wanted more, he’d ended the liaison. She’d cried and shrieked in outrage, but her tears had not affected him. He’d never lied; rather, she’d grown attached. He’d walked away and had never looked back.

But with Ana, he wanted more. He ached to know her fears, her triumphs, her past. She’d rarely spoken of her family and had only confessed her Middle Eastern roots after a good amount of spirits. It had only served to inflame his interest, his fascination with her.

He opened the door, and she stepped inside. Humid warmth enveloped them, and the scent of flowers teased his senses. Rows of tables holding variously sized pots of flowering plants and gardening tools crowded the conservatory space.

Ana gazed at everything with wide-eyed wonder, and he knew he’d been right about her interest. She walked slowly between each of the rows and studied the tables. Stopping at certain pots, she lowered her head to inhale the sweet-smelling flowers, her lids fluttering in pleasure. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Entranced, he watched as wisps of dark hair curled around her face from the humidity and her hazel eyes shimmered with delight. How had he ever thought her plain in her companion’s garb? She was stunning.

“You look like a lovely bloom yourself,” he said.

Her brilliant smile caught him off guard. His gut tightened, and he couldn’t tear his gaze from her.