Page 46 of Four Promises to Love

“Then if you do not mind a detour, come with me.”

He led her off the combed path toward a towering hedge of yew. The green wall was over ten feet tall and several feet thick. It seemed quite impenetrable, until he led the way to a patch of foxgloves. She saw with growing curiosity that the bright spires concealed a narrow gap in the hedge. Owen lifted a bough of yew that dipped over the entrance, giving her a clear view of the passageway.

“What is on the other side?” she asked.

He smiled. “Go through and you shall see.”

With a shiver of anticipation, Finn entered the cool, covered passage. She felt a strange sensation of familiarity…as if it was not the first time she’d traversed this tunnel. She touched the dense wall of vegetation and remembered the feathery brush of the yew needles against her fingertips. The muffled dimness teased at her memory as well, and when she came out on the other side, the rose garden that greeted her was dazzling—but not entirely a surprise.

The fragrance of the weighty blooms felt like…like…

Coming home. It feels as if I’ve come home.

“What do you think?” Owen asked.

Slowly, she turned to look at him, and for a dizzying instant, his handsomeness belonged to a different face. A different time. Her heart galloped.

“Are you all right?”

She blinked—and realized that Owen was studying her, his brows pinched.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Perfectly fine for someone who belongs in Bedlam.

She told herself that the sudden blaze of light after the tunnel must have disoriented her senses. Just like the lack of sleep and hazy dawn had led her to imagine the woman in the woods. Or maybe she was going mad. That explanation was less disturbing than the alternative.

Don’t be ridiculous: there is no such thing as ghosts.

“Let me show you the roses,” he said.

“Yes, please.”

Taking his arm and a calming breath, she strolled over stones carpeted by moss. Enclosed by the yew, the rose garden was a world unto itself. The sky seemed bluer, and the birds and insects that had found this sanctuary formed a vibrant choir. Even the air felt different against Finn’s skin, sultry and humid. Floral fragrance saturated the space, and she could almost taste the roses: honeyed and fruity, like jam.

“Did you, um, plant the roses?” she asked.

“Most of them. The garden suffered from years of neglect, and despite my efforts to salvage what I could, most of the bushes had to be torn out. Except for these.”

They arrived at a majestic arch of tangled grey canes. She realized that they were the ancient, thickened branches of the roses. The arbor itself had long ago disintegrated, but the thorny, twisting stalks had formed a dome, from which huge blooms were suspended…almost as if they were floating in space. Tilting her head back, Finn studied the gloriously untidy roses. Unlike the tamed blooms she’d seen earlier, these each had their own unique shape. Made up of layers upon layers of ruffled petals, in shades ranging from deep cerise to light silvery pink, the flowers were profusions of scent and color—a heady experience that enveloped the senses.

“How extraordinary,” she breathed.

“Yes.”

Owen was looking at her, not the roses, and the pulse in her throat leapt. When he came near, she knew she should retreat. Instead, she swayed toward him, drawn by the intensity of his regard and the rightness of this moment. She felt as if she belonged here…with him. He cupped her jaw, and she angled her mouth for his kiss. She tasted him and the roses, and the flavor was one of not only hunger but possession.

His and hers.

She kissed him with a craving that went deeper than lust. The need that simmered in her blood had the resonance of memory. Her wanting of him was a bottomless well, as if she’d been waiting an eternity to be with him again. As if she couldn’t wait another instant to be flesh to flesh, heart to heart, joined in the way they were meant to be. Wild with desire, she pressed herself against him, feeling his rigid arousal prodding her skirts.

“Bloody hell, Finn.”

He was the one who broke the kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, he took several serrated breaths. She knew he was barely holding himself in check because she felt the same way. Shivering, she traced the bulging outline of his erection and heard him suck in a breath.

“I promised you discretion,” he said in a thick voice. “Otherwise…”

His words broke her sensual reverie.