Page 473 of From Rakes to Riches

“Here, let me get that for you,” she said, and before he could think to stop her, she was kneeling at his feet.

Gabriel stood stock still, trying not to allow his mind to wander. Against his better intentions, visions of her loving him from her knees assailed him, heating his blood and making him shudder anew with desire. He stared down at the pate of her head and lapped at lips gone suddenly dry.

“This one is a favorite,” she confessed sheepishly, leaving off with his pant leg and attending the wayward rose in her hand. She lifted the frail limb and clipped it. “It isLa Seduisante.Also known aslncamata, La Virginale, Cuisse de Nymphe,or?—”

“The Great Maiden’s Blush,” Gabriel supplied.

Her head popped up, and she tilted him a glance. “Oh? You know roses?” she asked, peering up at him, sounding surprised, although something about her demeanor made him think otherwise.

“Not much,” Gabriel admitted. “I know a little. I know this one.”

She turned her attention to the rose again. “I’m not certain what’s wrong with it,” she confessed. “No matter what I do, it does not wish to bloom. I thought perhaps a little pruning would do it good.” She snipped a poorly looking blossom and studied it closer, furrowing her lovely brow.

Gabriel thought perhaps it needed to be put out of its misery, yanked up by its roots and tossed into the dung heap.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, smiling down at her. His gaze focused on the pruning shears. “So… you’ve been tending this garden all by yourself?” he asked, with no small measure of surprise.

She sighed. “Alas. I’m afraid I have. I cannot seem to find anyone able to tend it well enough.”

His brows collided. God only knew, she hardly could find anyone who could tend it worse. But he refrained from saying so and came to his haunches beside her as she examined the rambling rose.

“This garden is special,” she said, and plucked the rose’s petals one by one, discarding the petals on the lawn at his feet…

A fluttering like doves wings launched in Gabriel’s belly as a memory surfaced... of the two of them seated before this very bush, plucking petals from its blossoms. His heart kicked against his ribs. “Why special?”

She seemed to lose herself in reverie for an instant, and he wondered... hoped... she might be remembering…

“She loathes me, loathes me not, loathes me, loathes me not...”

“That’s not the way it goes!”

“Love is stupid, so are roses. She loathes me, loathes me not, loathes me, loathes me not...”

“I do not loathe you, Gabriel.”she’d said, frowning, as he’d tossed his plucked petals into her lap.“I simply do not relish slimy toads on my head.”

“Sorry,”he’d said easily enough.“I’ll won’t do it again, Maggie.”

“Good.” she’d said. “Because if you do...”She’d held her skirt between her hands, lifting the hem so slightly, so that all the petals gathered into a small pile in the center.“I shall have to put snakes down your pants.”And she’d leapt up, snapping her skirts as she’d surged to her feet, tossing the fragrant petals straight into his face. He’d spat one out of his mouth as she ranaway, giving Gabriel his first tantalizing peek of lean stockinged legs... perfect ankles that vanished within the blink of an eye, leaving him to stare in open-mouthed wonder over his first glimpse at the glorious differences between boys and girls.

She’d already put a snake into his trousers. Didn’t she know? It sprang to life as he watched her go.

The vision set his heart to pounding and turned his brain to something close to mush…

Even now, all these years later, his reaction to her was much the same. As jaded as he’d become, he still found himself titillated over the sight of her stockinged legs peeking out from beneath her gown, and the adder in his trousers was equally enthralled.

Her hair was swept up today into an artful arrangement that displayed the back of her neck to particular advantage. God help him. It was all he could do not to bend and nibble at her neck. Gabriel sucked in a breath and recalled to mind his purpose in seeking her out this morn—not to seduce her here on the lawn, though visions of doing just that were creeping into his thoughts.

She continued to pluck petals, blissfully unaware that his eyes were crossing with lust, and he murmured softly, “Sheloathesme so,loathesme not...”

Her head popped up again, and she said, “What did you say?”

He smiled at her. “You’re plucking petals... it’s something I used to say as a child.”

She stared at him for the longest moment, and then returned her attention to the blossom in her hand. “I spent some of my happiest days in this garden,” she confessed, sounding wistful. But so had he... spent his finest hours right here... with her...

His gaze moved to the pruning shears she’d placed by her knee. She discarded the flower and lifted the frail vine between her fingers, inspecting it, petting it with a gentle finger, thorns and all, as though it were a cherished little pet. And he realized:She was tending this garden in memory of him, and he was moved beyond words.

“Margaret,” he said, standing again.

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