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“I suppose I’ve never cared for surprises, either,” he admitted in the dark carriage.
“Our first meeting was a surprise, and you’re right, a welcome one. Otherwise, surprises…have not been favorable to me. I’ll considerthisnot a surprise but a spur-of-the-moment plan.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, and he chuckled, pulling her close. He pressed a featherlight kiss behind her ear, stopping only because the horses did.
She was unusually quiet as he unlatched the gate at the entrance of the dark gardens. The sun was only a memory now, and once they stepped past the wrought-iron enclosure, James’s lantern was the sole light in the lush but dormant garden. Winter was making one last clutch at their throats before dying; their breath puffed into small clouds in the evening air.
As soon as they turned down the path leading to the center of the garden, Clara gasped and clutched his arm. “Oh, James!”
He paused as long as she wanted, his attention on her. Her eyes shone, reflecting the dozen ornate lanterns leading to the conservatory building. He reveled in her expression, cloaked no longer; she was enchanted, and in turn, enchanting.
Suddenly, her feet propelled her down the path, and he strode to keep up with her eager pace. She stopped outside the impressive structure, built using the height of modern techniques and materials, iron and plate glass.
It glowed from within with light and warmth. Moisture coated the interior of the glass, allowing a sense of the greenery within but obscuring their visit from any prying eyes in the mansions around the square.
The greenhouse door opened, and the keeper slipped out into the shadows.
“He’ll return in two hours’ time to lock up,” said James, holding the door open for her.
“Oh,” Clara breathed as she stepped in.
The humid air was perfumed with the citrus scent of blossoms and rich earth.
“Oh!” She pressed her hands to her cheeks as she looked up at the glazed roof.
She didn’t know where to look. The perimeter was lined with potted tropical plants of various sizes; orange trees filled the center, illuminated by lanterns all along the circular path.
“Come!” She pulled his arm toward the closest tree, housed within a square masonry planter. “Oh!” she exclaimed yet again, leaning in to examine a cluster of fruit surrounded by white blossoms and waxy green leaves.
James slid her warm cape from her and draped it over his arm; it wasn’t needed, and he wanted to feel her body as she made the sounds of wonderment and pleasure in her throat.
After some time, she turned and gripped his upper arms. “Isn’t it splendid?”
Yes, you are.
“It is,” he allowed. “And in the interest of avoiding surprise, I’ll tell you now that a spur-of-the-moment picnic awaits.”
“Picnic?” Her eyebrow raised. “You simplycannotstay away from picnics, can you?”
He gave a low laugh. “Not when you’re in attendance.”
He kept his hand on the small of her back and followed her around the path as she walked slowly, gazing up and down at the plants and trees, sometimes gracing their leaves with a caress.
Lanterns followed the curved path to the back of the conservatory. She exhaled audibly when she caught sight of the picnic, nestled among the lushest section of trees. Several layers of blankets created a cushion, atop which a hamper awaited.
Settling on the blankets next to her, James felt the last of his tension ease away. It had built over the course of the week as he planned the excursion, along with nagging thoughts of Clara rejecting the visit.
It was one thing to share stolen moments in his bedchamber—even laughter and refreshmentafterthey thoroughly mussed his bed—and quite another to embark on an outing together.
If her initial reaction to the foray confirmed his doubts, her enthusiasm now fueled his damned foolish daydreams.
“Oranges,” she catalogued as she emptied the basket. She lifted a fruit to her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled.
“Orange cake.” Her voice was sultry as she unwrapped the delight.
“French pastries with orange marmalade!” She set them down carefully on a corner of the blanket, then lifted out a bottle for inspection.
“Cognac à l’orange!”She laughed her delight, then squinted at the label. “Recette traditionelle à base d’écorces d’orange.”
