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Owen remained silent until they came around to the front of the manor. He dismounted, then went to assist her down. His strong hands held her firmly until her feet touched the ground.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t let go. Instead, his hold tightened. “I want you to have your greenhouse, Selena.”
“Truly?” She put her hands on his arms for support. Suddenly, her legs felt weak.
Owen pulled her closer. “I want you to have everything you desire. My only wish is to make you happy.”
There was nothing malicious in his expression. Nothing to hint that what he said was untrue. Their faces were so close, she could smell his cologne, a woodsy, masculine scent that made her chest ache with a deep longing.
The horse stomped the ground, breaking the spell. Owen dropped his hands, and Selena stepped away. A groom came up and took the horses to the stables.
“I’m serious,” Owen said. “If you want the greenhouse, then we can hire an architect to design it.”
“I would like that very much.” She walked up the stairs, into the house, and straight to her bedchamber.
Katie came in a few minutes later to help her undress.
“I would like a bath drawn, please.”
The maid bobbed and went to do as ordered. Selena soaked in the warm waters, replaying the afternoon in her mind. They had met a handful of tenants. Each had acted the same, hesitant at first, but eventually, they’d all warmed toward Owen. She had watched his interactions. He’d spoken easily with everyone, no matter sex or age. He had listened to the farmers’ concerns and genuinely seemed to care. She was cautiously optimistic about a future with Owen.
Dinner that night was quiet. Later, they retired to the drawing room. Instead of chess, Owen read the newspaper while Selena worked on her needlepoint. The monotony of the sewing made Selena drowsy. Evidently, the day had been more tiring than she had realized.
“May I ask you a question?” Owen’s baritone broke through the fog of grogginess.
Selena peered up at him.
He grinned sheepishly. “I know I have said that far too many times for your liking, but I suddenly remembered something.”
“No, continue.” She laid her needlework in her lap.
“Did I have an acquaintance named Longfellow?”
“I have never heard you mention the name. Why?”
“Last night I went through the belongings that came home with me, and I found a piece of paper with his name on it.”
“Did it say anything else?”
“It said ‘Contact Longfellow, London.’”
“That is odd.” Selena wanted to help, but she knew no one with that name.
Owen rubbed his temples, like he was trying to summon the memories to come forth. The longer he was home, the more questions mounted up. Hopefully, Bran would be of some assistance. Owen needed friends like the Hughes, not the scoundrels he had associated with in the past who had come to Stonegate over the years.
“I’m sorry I cannot be more helpful.”
Owen looked at her. “But you have been helpful, as well as patient and understanding.”
Selena didn’t think she deserved such praise, considering what she had asked her brother to do for her. She was two-faced. On one hand, she appeared to be welcoming of her husband, but on the other, she was protecting her interests in case the worst happened and Owen’s memories returned.
“It’s getting late. I think I will retire.”
As he had the previous night, Owen escorted her to her bedchamber, then kissed her hand before leaving. Each caress made a tiny crack in her resolve not to care for the man.
* * *
