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Chapter 19
Theadora
Withthosecold,undressing eyes that felt like greasy fingers, Reynard Crisp seemed to have taken a shine to me. He cornered me by asking questions about where I was from and so on. Thank goodness Declan rescued me from him.
At least Declan’s eyes didn’t creep all over my body as though he’d pounce on me any moment. Even though in my fantasies that’s exactly what I wanted him to do: rip my clothes off and grope me.
“I think I should go back and help with the dishes,” I said.
Declan stared down at his watch. “When are you meant to finish?”
“In an hour.”
Looking lost in thought, he nodded.
“Thanks for intervening. He seemed to really want to know me, and by the looks of it, he’s close to your mother.”
“Don’t worry about Reynard Crisp. I can handle that,” he said as we walked up the steps through the columns. He stopped and turned to face me again. His face in the moonlight looked older yet even more handsome than ever. I couldn’t believe this man showed so much interest in me. “Can we talk? After you finish?”
“I don’t finish until ten o’clock.”
A sweet smile touched his lips. “That’s not too late, is it?”
I shook my head, ignoring that assignment I’d planned to finish.
“I’ll meet you in the rose garden.” He pointed in the direction of the pond. “Have you seen it?”
I nodded. “I love smelling the roses.”
“It is fragrant, especially on a warm night.”
His gaze trapped mine again and then we separated: me back to work, and him back into a party of husband-hungry, designer-clad society girls.
I couldn’t blame them going all ga-ga over him, looking the way he did in that pale-blue jacket that accented his eyes, a fitted white shirt, and slacks that showed hints of his muscular thighs.
I worked in the kitchen, which gave me a chance to breathe properly, despite the butterflies in my stomach.
What does Declan want to say to me?
After I finished my shift, I changed into a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved cotton top and replaced my pumps with sneakers.
I unravelled my bun and let my hair fall down my back, running my fingers through it and massaging my head. I tied a little bun at the back so that my hair didn’t fall over my face.
Leaning into the mirror, I dabbed some lip gloss on my lips and a spray of perfume, hoping all that earlier tension hadn’t produced smelly armpits.
I headed out into the night, clutching my arms. Despite a bite in the air, the salty breeze had an awakening effect.
From a distance, and with the light of the moon, I could see a tall figure standing inside the filigree iron rotunda with clinging roses.
A pleasant perfume intensified the closer I got, making me feel slightly lightheaded. Or was that me bathing in Declan Lovechilde’s heart-pumping masculinity?
I stepped inside and found him there waiting for me.
After losing myself in his eyes, I finally found my voice. “It’s so stunning here,”
“It’s special.” His mouth curved. “Made even more so by you being here. It’s a painting I’d pay a fortune to own. You under the moonlight amongst the roses.”
How romantic.
