Page 33 of One Wicked Secret
“Then you will hate me when you hear my next suggestion. I fear we may have to dig them up.”
Horrified, she shrank back. “Dig up my mother’s roses?That would be like taking a hammer and chisel to her epitaph.”
“How else will we know if your father hid the journal here?” He looked at the gorgeous blooms. “I can ask Albert to move them to new planters tomorrow.”
“Albert?”
“My gardener.”
Hearing the sudden crunch of gravel outside, he discarded the glove and pressed his finger to her lips. He quickly hauled them behind the towering Areca palms, their dense fronds and tall trunks offering the perfect cover.
The footsteps grew louder.
The light of a lantern shone softly through the glass panes.
Muffled voices seemed to echo all around them.
“Hush,” Daniel whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear as he held her tightly against his chest. “Don’t make a sound.”
Her breath quickened, though not from fear.
The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the strength in his embrace—it was too much. Everything about him was divine. Desire coiled low in her belly, its heat spreading into a deep, persistent ache.
“I reckon I saw a light in the house,” came a gruff voice in a mild West Country accent. “We’d best go inside and check no bugger’s about. Master’s orders.”
She tried to remain as quiet as a mouse when Daniel tightened his arms around her, but it took every effort not to whimper.
The harsh scrape of the iron latch preceded a creaking groan as the blackguard pushed open the metal-framed door.
“Happen I heard a noise in here.” His boot struck thestone floor with a hollow thud. The swinging lantern created moving shadows that danced like demons in the dimness.
The other fellow gave a husky chuckle. “Perhaps the plants come alive at night. Reckon you’ll blame them for eating my meat pasty.”
“I know one thing. It weren’t the roses what drunk my ale. You’ve been burping like a babe for an hour.” The voice was that bit closer now. “I can smell something sweet.” He sniffed the air, a bloodhound trying to catch the scent. “Like lavender soap, something pretty and fresh.”
Elsa hugged Daniel tightly, willing the men to leave. Had they been patrolling Edenberry for six months? Had they pilfered items from the house? Small sentimental things no one would notice?
“It’s the roses, you dolt. Perhaps you should take one for Irene to soften that stone heart of hers.”
“It ain’t the roses, that’s for certain.”
The slow pad of footsteps sent a ripple of fear to her toes, but the sudden arrival of another man saved the day.
“What the devil are you doing in here?” the Marquess of Rothley demanded, his tone threatening. “This is private property. My property. Who are you? Explain yourselves before I arrest you for trespassing.”
One miscreant gasped.
The other took a defensive stand. “Who the devil areyou? We’ve been paid by the owner of this here house to stop intruders while he’s away in town.”
Elsa raised her head, but Daniel mouthed, “Don’t move.”
“That’s a blatant lie. The agent would have mentioned your employment as part of the sale. Give me your employer’s name, or I’ll have you hauled to the nearest gaol.”
Lord Rothley could whip the skin off a man’s back withhis sharp tongue. He was born to command, his aristocratic tone carrying a quiet threat. Some said the marquess was as dangerous as he was refined.
“How do I know you ain’t here to rob the place?”
“Allow me to present my calling card.” The snap of metal said the lord had retrieved a card from his silver case. “I’m the new owner of Edenberry. I purchased the house and its entire contents.”
