Page 51 of Stolen By the Rogue
Back in the kitchen, while Jane sat at the table and relit the lamp, George paced the floor. No one suggested that they go back to bed; there was not a chance that either of them would get any sleep.
He forced himself to focus on the job at hand, not Jane’s earlier revelation. Her declaration of love, if it could be called one, had moved him more deeply than he could ever have imagined it would. A woman coming into his life and shaking up his whole world was something George Hawkins hadn’t thought possible.
And yet Jane Scott had done exactly that.
Think! Concern your thoughts with dealing with the dirt around the tree—then you can take the time to deal with Jane’s affections.
“We are never going to be able to keep our efforts to dig in the garden a secret, especially if we attempt them at night,” she said.
“Excavating during the day will also be problematic, but it might be easier. We just need a plausible reason to be messing about in the rear yard,” he replied.
“Plenty of people around here have plots of land with home gardens. If anyone comes to the house, we could tell them we are going to reestablish the garden along with the herb and vegetable beds,” replied Jane.
George nodded his agreement. “Good idea.”
The story Jane proposed was a clever one. George had lived a long enough life of subterfuge and falsehoods to know that simple lies were usually the best.
“But we need to do something about the side fence. There are holes aplenty in it. Anyone could easily put their face up to one of the gaps and see that we were digging around the base of the tree,” she said.
George stopped his incessant walking and dropped into the chair across the table from her. He raked his fingers through his tussled hair. The fence was a real problem. During the day there were plenty of people passing through the laneway which ran alongside the house. They didn’t need an audience.
He leaned against the back of the chair and met Jane’s gaze. While her face was full of concern, there was also a spark of excitement gleaming in her eyes. There were obstacles for them to overcome, but if they could succeed in finding the treasure, it would be all worthwhile.
What if we did go ahead with the charade of planting a garden?
“Jane, I like your lie; it suits our purposes perfectly. We should do everything we can to make it look real. That way, if anyone does poke their head through the fence, all they are going to see is a young couple working to establish a garden. I can bring some horse manure over from the RR Coaching Company stables. As I dig up the dirt, you can work the fresh droppings through it. That way people will think you are making compost.”
She nodded. “Could you also get some straw? I was thinking I could pull down the rotten calico curtains from upstairs and lay them over where we have been working at the end of each day, then toss the dry material on top so as to disguise any holes.”
He smiled at her. Trust Jane to be thinking one step ahead of their problems. She was finding ways to address issues before they even arose. “Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast,” he replied.
“I am pleased to see that your education was not entirely wasted, George Hawkins. I like a man who can quote Shakespeare.”
When this is all over, I am not letting you go.
“And you are a very clever young woman, Jane Scott. Have I told you that?”
“No. But thank you. While I do happen to have some belief in myself, it is still nice to hear it from another person,” she replied.
If she gave him a chance, George would happily spend the rest of his life offering her up such tender and real compliments.
Restless and in need of distraction, he held out his hand to her. “I don’t think either of us is getting any more sleep tonight. How about we go down to the River Thames and watch the sun rise? If you are a good girl, I will buy you some freshly baked rolls and a mug of hot chocolate.”
Jane grinned at him. “That sounds wonderful. You, the dawn, and hot chocolate.” Jane took his hand, and George was pleased when she eagerly accepted his kiss. When she finally drew back from his lips, their gazes met. A glint of mischief shone in her eyes. “I will have you know, George Hawkins, I am always a good girl, until I am not.”
His manhood twitched at her suggestive tone and his appetite moved to a different sort of hunger. He ached with the need to have Jane naked and beneath him, writhing with pleasure. “Change of plans. Forget about the dawn—it will be there tomorrow. You and I are going to back to bed. We can worry about food later.”
Her hand settled on his burgeoning erection, and all discussion was quickly at an end.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It didn’t take long for the neighbors to find the goings on in the backyard of number eleven Coal Yard Lane to be of great interest. But to the collected disappointment of many, there had not been a mysterious body secretly buried during the night, nor even a new chicken hutch built. Words of frustration were muttered by several local residents at hearing the news that it was all simply in aid of a vegetable patch.
George was nothing if not the master of a well-practiced sleight of hand. Dull and boring were his weapons of choice when it came to unwelcome attention.
As soon as he and Jane were done with breakfast, George had ventured over to the RR Coaching Company offices with the intention of not only getting some manure and straw, but to offer up his apologies for his extended absence.
But when he got there, only Bob, the lone stable hand, and an odd-looking three-legged dog were about the place. All the other members of the company were missing.
