x_Elizabeth Hoyt The Raven Prince [Prince 01] (2006)

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that had been its outline at one point. A brick path, barely discernible beneath debris, ran
around the inside of the walls. It connected with a central walk in the shape of a cross that
divided the garden into four smaller rectangles. The far wall held another door, almost
hidden beneath the skeleton of a creeper. Perhaps a second garden or a series of gardens
lay beyond.
My grandmother laid out the original plans for these beds, the earl said from behind her.
Somehow they d gone through the doorway, although Anna didn t remember moving.
And my mother expanded and developed them.
It must have been very beautiful once. She stepped over a break in the walkway where
some of the bricks had heaved out of the ground. Was the tree in the corner a pear?
Not much left of all her work, is there? he replied. She could hear him kicking at
something. I suppose it would be best simply to have the walls torn down and the place
leveled.
Anna jerked her head around to him. Oh, no, my lord. You mustn t do that.
He frowned at her protest. Why not?
There s too much here that can be saved.
The earl assessed the overgrown garden and ruined walk with clear skepticism. I don t
see even one thing worth saving.
She shot him an exasperated glance. Why, look at the espaliered trees on the walls.
He swiveled to where she pointed.
Anna began picking her way to the wall. She stumbled over a rock hidden in the weeds
and righted herself only to catch her toe again. Strong arms caught her from behind and
lifted her easily. In two long strides, Lord Swartingham was by the wall.
He set her down. Is this what you want to see?
Yes. Anna, breathless, peeked at him sideways.
He stared rather grimly at the espaliered tree.
Thank you. She turned back to the pathetic tree against the wall and was immediately
distracted. I think it s an apple tree or perhaps a pear. You can see where they re planted
all around the garden walls. And this one here is in bud.
The earl dutifully examined the branch indicated. He grunted.
And really all they need is some good pruning, she chattered on. You could make
your own cider.
I ve never much liked cider.
She lowered her brows at him. Or you could have Cook make apple jelly.
He arched an eyebrow.
She almost defended the merits of apple jelly, but then she spied a flower hiding in the
weeds. Do you think that s a violet or maybe a periwinkle?
The flower was a couple of feet from the edge of a bed. Anna bent from the waist to get a
closer look, placing one hand on the ground to steady herself.
Or perhaps a forget-me-not, although usually they bloom in big groups. She carefully
plucked the flower. No, I m silly. Look at the leaves.
Lord Swartingham was very still behind her.
I think it may be a type of hyacinth. She straightened and turned to consult him.
Oh? The single word came out a baritone guttural.
She blinked at his voice. Yes, and of course where there s one, there s always more.
Of what?
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. You haven t been listening to me, have you?
He shook his head. No.
He was watching her intently, in such a way that Anna s breath quickened. She could feel
her face heat. In the quiet, the breeze playfully blew a thin lock of hair across her mouth.
He reached out very slowly and brushed it away with the tips of his fingers. The calluses
on his hand rasped against the sensitive skin of her lips, and she closed her eyes in
yearning. He carefully tucked the lock back into her coiffure, his hand lingering at her
temple.
She felt his breath caress her lips. Oh, please.
And then he dropped his hand.
Anna opened her eyes and met his obsidian gaze. She stretched out her own hand to
protest or perhaps touch his face, she wasn t sure, and it didn t matter anyway. He d
already whirled and paced a few steps away from her. She didn t think he had even
noticed her own aborted gesture.
He turned his head so that she could see only his face in profile. I beg your pardon.
Why? She tried to smile. I
He made a chopping motion with the blade of his hand. I will be traveling tomorrow to
London. I fear I have some business there that can no longer wait.
Anna squeezed her hands into fists.
You may continue admiring the garden if you wish. I need to return to my writing. He
strode rapidly away, his boots grinding against the broken bricks.
Anna opened her clenched fists and felt the crushed flower slip from her fingers.
She glanced around the ruined garden. It had so many possibilities. Some weeding by the
wall over there, some planting in the bed here. No garden was ever truly dead if a proper
gardener knew how to nurture it. Why, it only needed a bit of care, a bit of love. . . .
A veil of tears obscured her eyes. She wiped at them irritably with a trembling hand.
She d forgotten her handkerchief inside. The tears overflowed her eyes and rolled to her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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