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Each flower had five pointed outer petals, purple at the outer edges fading to almost white in the center. A darker amethyst ‘trumpet’ grew in the middle, the lower surface of which pouted like a lip. A trail of white, yellow, and orange led inside the flower’s throat; an invitation for pollinating insects to come inside.
“I am certain this a new species,” she said happily. “Part of the genusoncidium, except I’ve never heard of one with lavender petals like this, nor this frilled edge to the trumpet. I found them in northern Brazil, near Pernambuco, a thousand miles north of Rio de Janeiro.”
Kit raised his brows. “I hope you’re right. I’ve never been to South America, myself.”
She slid him a sideways glance. “Have you never considered going?”
“It would be a great adventure. To be honest, after my imprisonment I never thought I’d want to go anywhere ever again, but you’ve reminded me that there’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored. If only one has the courage.”
Her heart swelled at the compliment. “Good. I’m glad.” She sent him a cheeky smile. “You know, I’m always on the lookout for burly deckhands. Plus you know how to handle a weapon. Maybe you should consider a new career as an adventurer? Or as a personal bodyguard?”
Her heart pounded as he gazed down at her. Now that she’d voiced the idea aloud, she realized how much she liked it. How she would love to have Kit’s company on one of her adventures. He was strong and surly, gruff and sweet, and despite his size and fierce demeanor he had an amazing ability to make her feel safe.
The intensity of his regard heated her cheeks and she looked away, suddenly self-conscious.
“I’ll give it serious consideration,” he said.
Flustered, Emma leaned over and sniffed at the nearest flower, then drew back in surprise. “Oh, it has a scent! I had no idea! Now I’msureit’s a new species. Orchids rarely have a perfume, but this one smells like roses.”
Kit bent and inhaled near the second flower. “You’re right.”
“See, this is why I love orchids,” Emma laughed happily. “They’re like people. No two are exactly alike.”
Kit glancedat the plant in front of him and then back over at Emma. The image of her, naked and rosy from the pool, overlaid his vision and he found himself transfixed by her eyes, her mouth. Her full lower lip had the same hint of a pout as that orchid of hers.
He grew hard.
She, however, was blithely unaware of his lascivious thoughts and sent him a friendly, open smile.
“Did you know that each type of orchid attracts its own particular pollinator? Some attract bees, while others need other types of insects. It means there’s an enormous variety inappearance between different kinds.”
Kit barely managed to grunt, and she carried on.
“I like to think that’s true of people too. That everyone has some aspect of their character or appearance that will attract a specific person to them. That there’s someone out there for everybody. An ideal match so to speak. We just have to find the right one.”
She was looking up at him with such shining optimism that Kit felt a little dizzy. He had no idea where she was going with this conversation, but his heart was pounding. Was she suggesting that the two ofthemmight be the perfect match for one another?
No, surely he was misinterpreting her words. Hearing things he wanted to hear.
He straightened up and bowed awkwardly, keeping his hands strategically in front of his crotch to hide the evidence of her nearness. “I’m going to see Mrs. Bennington about Christmas dinner. Excuse me.”
Chapter 8
Despite the fact it was just the two of them for Christmas dinner, Emma had the most wonderful time. Fitzwilliam, the lone footman who’d helped unload her plants the day she’d arrived, seemed to be the only servant in attendance, but he kept her wineglass topped up and presented a dizzying array of courses prepared by Mrs. Bennington.
Perhaps it was the excellent burgundy loosening her tongue, but conversation flowed easily between herself and Kit as they shared tales of their adventures. He described some amusing incidents he’d had in Spain before he and Andrew had been captured, while Emma made him smile by recounting the time a monkey had invaded her cabin, opened her clothes chest, and stolen one of her favorite hats.
By the time a flaming Christmas pudding was placed on the table between them, with the warmed brandy flames flickering blue and orange, she decided it was time to reveal her final problem. Kit gave her the perfect opening.
“So, now that you’ve successfully managed to coax flowers from your plants, I assume you’re ready to return to London and present them to the gentlemen of the Botanical Society?”
Emma toyed with her glass, suddenly nervous. “Well, as to that, there is onesmallmatter in which I still need your help.”
His brows rose.
“The Society is expecting one D. Townsend to present to them.”
“And?”
