Page 22 of The Earl's Secret
She ran her hands over the statues she came across, trying to find crevices or hiding places within them or any of the pieces that would have been permanent. Obviously, all of the flower beds and hedges couldn’t have held anything – they were too often reviewed by the gardener, and nothing would have lasted overly long when out in the elements.
She had her elbows resting on the edge of the fountain, as she bent over and peered within, trying to determine whether there could be anything hiding behind the stones beneath the depths, when a figure appeared beside her, causing her to shriek in surprise and nearly topple over, until a warm hand reached out and caught her.
“Devon, you scared me!” she exclaimed, bringing a hand to her breast. “Why would you sneak up on me like that?”
“Perhaps the better question is why would you sneak away from me when we were to search together?” he asked, slowly sliding his hand away from her and crossing his arms over his chest. “Was this not to be a joint search?”
“I thought perhaps it best that I do it alone today,” she said with a shrug as though it didn’t mean anything, but he narrowed his eyes at her as a bird’s call sliced through the silence.
“You’re scared,” he said, and she leaned back away from him at that, trying not to notice how handsome he looked, as he lifted a hand to hold onto his hat when the breeze began to pick up.
“Pardon me?”
“I said that you are scared,” he repeated, fixing his tall, straight hat more securely to his head. “After what happened in the long gallery, you are afraid of being close to me, of what could happen if we are alone together once more.”
“Nothing happened in the long gallery,” she said, holding her chin high, reminding herself that it was the truth – nothinghadhappened, although only because Devon hadn’t allowed it to. She would have done whatever he would have liked in the moment. Which was exactly the problem. She was currently in the predicament of having to trust Devon more than herself, which was not exactly the most ideal situation.
“Right,” he said with a grin. “If that is what you would like to believe.”
She would havelikedto have told him exactly what she thought of that comment, but at the moment, she thought perhaps it was best to continue on her current conviction and ignore that there had been any moment between them – it would give him too much satisfaction if she were to admit it.
Although she couldn’t help but wonder just why he had denied her. Did he not feelanythingtoward her? Yes, she hated that she wanted him with as fierce of a passion as she had the night they had come together, but want him she did. Did he have no desire for her? Had it all fled over the years and did his affection now rest with another – or, perhaps, anyonebuther?
For that would hurt far worse than she would have liked.
Sometimes she wondered about other women he had been with – who had come before, who had come after, how they compared to her. But she knew that she should have no say in it, no opinion. She had been the one who had chosen not to speak with him again.
But all that was in the past, she reminded herself. She was here now, present. And she needed to accept what was and not what could have been.
“How long have you been searching?” he asked her now, apparently moving on himself, back to the present moment and matters beyond the two of them.
“Perhaps an hour,” she said before finally deciding that, at this point, she should welcome any ideas he had. “The truth is, I’m not entirely sure where to search. I tried looking through all of the garden statues, all of the small edifices and any permanent fixtures, but I cannot find anything. I wish I better understood the clue.”
“Don’t we all,” he said dryly, before reaching out a hand toward her. “Come, let’s take a walk around as we think this through.”
“But—”
He bent his outstretched fingers a couple of times in invitation, and she sighed as she reached out and accepted it. “Very well,” she said, although she didn’t place her hand on his offered arm, instead keeping it to herself.
For she couldn’t risk getting too close once more.
CHAPTER9
Devon could both sense and understand Cassandra’s hesitancy. But even so, he wished that she would trust him slightly more.
He had arrived for breakfast, surprised to find that she had already eaten, for he hadn’t known her to be an early riser in the past. But he had shrugged it off – until he had glimpsed her through the window in the hall, touring the gardens by herself.
Here he thought that they had come to an understanding, at least when it came to solving the riddle and finding the treasure.
But when he had discovered her staring into the fountain, he had felt both her despair as well as her wish for something more, and he had waited a moment before disturbing her. He could purport it was to give her time, but the truth was, he had been appreciating her beauty, so at home here in the green splendour of the garden, until he had made his presence known.
“So what is your grand idea?” she asked now, and he looked down at her profile, longing to reach out and tuck the one errant curl the wind had swept loose back behind her ear.
“You say you have searched throughout the garden.”
“I have.”
“I suggest that we look once more, and then broaden our quest.”
