Page 19 of A Virgin for the Duke of Depravity
He walked to Theresa first and took her hand, placing a brief kiss on the back of it. Theresa drew her hand back and watched carefully as he walked back to the center of the room and did the same to Margaret.
As his lips brushed the back of her hand, Margaret suddenly had a vivid recollection of one of the images she had seen in the books that the couples were reading at his book club. She thought about what it would feel like for a man’s lips to be not just on the back of her hand but also on other parts of her body.
She blushed at the thought, but tried to hide the color in her cheeks.
Get over it. He is cold and annoying. Good-looking, too. But you are almost a nun! You just need to hide here for the week.
She had not hidden away in a convent for all this time only to fail at the last minute. Her vows were the only thing standingbetween her and her grandfather. They promised her safety—the one thing she was able to appreciate about the convent.
With Theresa gone, the convent was lonelier than it used to be, but she could get used to that. What she could not get used to was knowing that she would sin if given the first opportunity.
The nuns had warned her, and she had not listened.
When she finished berating herself inwardly for the impure thoughts that seemed to be taking over her mind, she looked up to find that Leo’s eyes had never left her face. He raised his eyebrows at her, a question on his lips that he did not voice.
Another flush crept into her cheeks and spread down her neck.
“Where are the girls now?” Aaron asked, sparing her from having to explain why the color rose in her face. If he noticed, he chose not to say anything, but Theresa watched her friend carefully.
“The young ladies are still getting ready, I’m afraid. Would you like to take a walk around the orangery until your rooms are prepared?” Leo said smoothly, easing the tension in Margaret’s chest.
“The weather is lovely,” Theresa said. She rubbed her swollen belly. “I should enjoy such a walk while I still can. I fear that I may soon be too large to comfortably walk anywhere.”
“Shall we go then, dear wife?” Aaron asked, offering her his arm.
Theresa accepted it, and they stepped out of the room. Aaron seemed to know the path to the orangery already, which left Leo and Margaret in the room alone together.
“It would not do for us to abandon our friends to the gardens,” Leo said, coming to stand beside her.
He offered his arm to her. Margaret hesitated to place her hand on his arm, but resolved that it was deemed appropriate by the ton. She was in no danger of sinning simply for walking with a man among the trees.
If she was being honest with herself, she liked the way his strong body felt at her side. She pictured what it would be like to lean into him and allow him to support her weight. To feel his lips on hers, on her neck, on the most sensitive parts of her.
The pictures in that book were getting to her. She sent up a quick prayer for forgiveness for her impure thoughts, hoping that the very act of praying would act as a talisman.
“You are quiet this morning, My Lady,” Leo said as they stepped into the gardens. “Does this mean you have reconsidered our deal?”
Theresa looked back at them, but she and Aaron were engrossed in conversation. Margaret was grateful that they were once againin view of their friends, where she did not have to worry about untoward behavior.
“I will not reconsider it,” she said with resolve. “You offered your protection while I am here in London, and that is a commodity I am very much in need of at the moment.”
Leo seemed to mull over her words as they ducked into the first row of orange trees. The trees were smaller than the oaks and pines that surrounded the forest beyond the nunnery. Their leaves were a deep green, almost the same color as the dress Margaret was wearing.
But what drew her attention was the fruit on the branches. The plump oranges stood out against the foliage.
The fruit reminded her that the Lord also wanted his saints to bear good fruit, to have self-control. Margaret wondered if this was an answered prayer, a reminder to control her thoughts.
She deeply inhaled the fresh air, hoping that it would soothe her nerves. To her surprise, she did not catch the bright scent of citrus as she would have expected. Instead, she smelled something lightly floral.
“The trees do not smell of citrus,” she noted, surprised.
“Have you never been in an orangery, My Lady?”
She shook her head and paused to take another deep breath. The result was the same: she could not smell the fruit itself, but only the blooms on the trees. Each one was small and white, tiny stars among the dark leaves.
Leo reached up and plucked an orange off the tree. He handed it to her, and she pressed it to her nose. This was the citrus scent she had been anticipating, but the floral scent was just as lovely in its own way.
“If you ask nicely, the cook will make fresh juice for you.”
