Page 36 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Her gaze followed his hand.

‘Tell me now . . . are those actually lilies?’ She asked, waving at the opposite wall.

‘Last of them.’ The lilies were holding on longer than they should, the cooler shade slowing the fade. Waist height, petals wide open, and starting to turn. Another few days, at best.

‘They’re huge,’ she said.

He didn’t consider it worth explaining that size depended on soil conditions and care.

She lowered herself beside him, careful of the plants. ‘Which ones do I take?’

‘Not those,’ he said, as her hand went to a snapdragon.

Her fingers stalled on the stem. ‘Good to know.’

He inched closer, reaching past her to demonstrate. ‘You want flowers that are beginning to open. Not blown and not tight.’ Her grip was wrong – too high. Without thinking, he guided her hand lower along the stem. She went still. So did he. He withdrew first, more abruptly than he needed to. ‘Look out for balance,’ he said. ‘Not too much, not too little.’

‘Something like that one?’ she asked.

He passed her the secateurs. She made the cut cleanly.

‘I’ve been here two weeks now,’ she said. ‘You could start calling me Sammy, you know.’ Two weeks, thought Sammy; the Swansea rent would empty her bank account next week.

‘Miss Jenkins,’ he said. It was simpler that way.

‘Magnus wouldn’t like it,’ she added.

‘No.’

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the house – despite it being hidden behind the wall – as if checking for him.

‘He’s very . . . anti-emotion,’ she said.

‘He’s dedicated.’

‘That’s one word for it. I think he’d combust if he saw people flirting in the flower beds.’

Nate scooted sideways. ‘We’re not,’ he said.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Of course not. Definitely not.’

She cut another stem.

He tracked what she chose, noting the change – more deliberate now, less guesswork.

‘You can take those,’ he said, indicating the support cane. ‘Sweet peas. They’ll work inside.’

He cut a few himself, gathering them into a loose posy. ‘You want a mix,’ he said. ‘Height. Shape. Texture. Colour.’

Her attention settled on the bundle in his hands.

‘You should teach me properly,’ she said. ‘About all this.’

He thought about that. ‘If you like.’

She took the flowers. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’