by Daisy Banks
He bent his head and kissed her.
When they parted, she stood with her arms about his neck. “I think we should go and have tea before we become too involved here.”
He smiled as he caressed a warm palm over her rear.
“Please, Magnus. I am suffering for you.”
“I know. You’re not alone in your need. Tea before, as you say, we are tempted beyond all constraints.”
They moved in unison, steps matched as they walked out the door and down the corridor to the drawing room. The synchronization between them that Sian had found when they’d made love or in the moments after seemed to have become part of her, its powerful force as natural as breathing.
The love of the wolf, for the wolf, bound by a ceaseless energy from the life force in each of them, moved like a slow stirring in her core. His love, her love, his pain, hers, too, and everything else in the wide world of their existence would be shared.
A tea tray sat ready on the table in the drawing room. She sat and poured, then offered him a cup with the lemon he enjoyed and stirred a lump of sugar in hers. “Magnus, I want to concentrate on the full moon for the next few days rather than our wedding. Do you think it’s right I should?”
“Yes. The wedding will be a celebration of our union. I’m glad you feel that way. The forming of our dynasty is very important.”
“Dynasty?”
“Eventually.” He sipped his tea. “However, I have every intention of purchasing an engagement ring for you next week. What would you like?”
She clutched the wrought gold amulet with her crystal inside. “This is all I need.”
“So I am at liberty to select anything I think appropriate?”
“I know you are teasing, but yes, you are. Please, don’t buy anything big or ostentatious. I’d like something suitable to wear all the time.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” He set his teacup down. “Would you care for a short walk?”
She smiled. She’d entertained the idea of looking again at the walled garden before tomorrow, and he’d picked up on it. “Yes. I think we’ll need Wellingtons, but I’d like a walk.”
“We’ll go look at the walled garden. I am sure we can think of some ideas to discuss tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect.” She set her cup down and they headed out to put on boots and coats.
Outside, she inhaled the rich fragrant air, the scent of pine strong from the woods, the combination from animals on the estate, too. Magnus put his arm around her shoulder, and together they strolled down the cinder pathway to the rear of the house, past the damaged section of the music room, farther along and up to where they could look down on the walled garden.
She took his hand in hers as she gazed at the small potting shed standing by one wall. The first time he showed her the garden, they’d made love in there. She sighed.
“Dearest, please stop thinking of sex.”
Her cheeks tingled with heat. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but remember the shed.”
He gave a low laugh. “I agree, but please, try to think of something else.”
“Right, I’ll think about the fruit trees.”
“Hmm, peaches. Soft, smooth, and juicy, with curves a perfect fit for my palm.”
“Magnus!”
His laughter echoed as he hugged her. “Soon. You’re right about the fruit trees, too.”
“Glass house,” she murmured. “We need to talk to them about maintenance, irrigation, pest control. You’d have to have at least two gardeners. Maybe more.”
He leaned his chin on her shoulder and tightened his embrace, pulling her back against him. “Rather like an age gone by.”
“Not really. A lot of estates make money from their gardens. You could, too.”
“We could, but it’s not necessary you know.”
She turned her head to brush her cheek against his. “But if the garden produces fruits and vegetables, then there would be far more than we could use. You couldn’t allow all of it go to waste.”
“Hmm. Perhaps, as you suggested, we could find a ready market for produce. That’s something else to discuss tomorrow.”
“Agreed. Oh, rain.” She blinked at the spatter of raindrops. “Back to the house. We’ll end up soaked if we stay here.”
Magnus caught her hand and they turned together. She broke into a run, and though she was certain he slowed his paces to match hers, they raced back to the house and dived into the portico, dripping wet.
“I hope it’s not like this the night of the full moon.” She shook her hair.
“It won’t matter if it is. I promise you.” His smile met her gaze, and his eyes shone with the light of desire. “We will love together. Nothing could stop me wanting you.”
“Soon.”
Chapter 27
Magnus glanced to the clock. They’d half an hour before Ms. Raynalds should arrive.
Sian had tapped her coffee cup with her nails for the last few minutes as she stared out the window.
“Would you rather I met with this lady alone?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “I am intrigued.”
He ran his hand over the length of her curls. Loose today, her hair hung past her shoulders, a silky temptation to his touch.
Sian glanced up. “Am I so very obvious?”
“I know you’re disturbed. I can see and feel you’re concerned about today.”
She smiled. “Along with a few other things.”
“Yes. Is there anything I can say or do to help?”
She shook her head. “No, I know what’s to come.” Her gaze met his and claimed his heart anew. “Mostly.”
“You know how important you are to me.” He bent and brushed a kiss against her lips. “Later today we’ll meditate together and find each other when we do.”
Her cheeks rounded as she puffed out a breath. “Dreaming is easier. The meditation is so hard.”
“You need to still your mind of other concerns.”
A knock at the door silenced them both. Mrs. Tyson came in. “Ms. Raynalds is here, Mr. Johansson. I’ve shown her into the drawing room. I said you’d be with her in a moment or two.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tyson. We’ll be there directly.” He clasped Sian’s hand and tugged her up from her seat. “Are you ready?”
“I’m all right. Don’t worry about me.”
“Good.”
They strolled to the yellow drawing room. He turned to her, his hand on the door handle. “Last chance to do something different.”
“No, Magnus. I want to meet Ms. Raynalds with you.”
Her courage still took him by surprise at times. He hoped it always would. “Very well, we’ll go in.” He opened the door and walked through. Sian followed a footstep behind. One look and he understood. “Good morning, Ms. Raynalds. I’m Magnus Johansson. This is Sian.”
“Hello, Ms. Raynalds,” Sian said. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Johansson, Mr. Johansson. This is a wonderful estate.”
He took in her slate blue eyes, the fair hair a match of her grandmother’s in color. He didn’t correct her about Sian, time would make her statement true. “I’m pleased you have found it so. Would you like coffee or shall we go directly to the walled garden?”
“I’d prefer to look at the garden. I like to get my first hands on impression, that way I have ideas to give you to think about after I leave today. We can discuss other things later.”
“Very well. We’ll get coats on the way.” He took Sian’s hand, led her and Ms. Raynalds out and down the corridor. Sian gave him several curious glances as they put on their coats and headed out of the portico. They waited for Ms. Raynalds to get her Wellington boots from her van, and once she’d donned them, they all strode along the cinder path.
“The walled garde
n was at one time the powerhouse of food production for the house,” he said as they strolled to the garden. “It has sadly been untended for over half a century.”
“But if the foundations are still good, it can be resurrected, Mr. Johansson. I assure you. Our company has worked on two projects of a similar nature. After assessment, we may find some of the plants can be rescued or reseeded.”
“Oh, good,” Sian said. “There are several fruit trees I hope might be salvageable.”
“Specialty ones?” Ms. Raynalds asked.
“Yes, peach trees.”
“We might be lucky, Mrs. Johansson.”
Sian glanced to him, and he gave a slight shake of his head while he concentrated on the sheer wealth of energy from this young woman striding beside them. The quality he’d found attractive in her grandmother oozed from her also. This close to the full moon, with his senses prodded by the forthcoming change, and Sian, too, he discerned something more from Martha Raynalds. The call of blood kin. This woman carried a part of him in her genes.
“Here we are,” he said as they reached the top of the rise where they could overlook the whole of the walled garden spread below. “As you can see, there is a great deal that needs to be done.”
“Good heavens, it’s huge. I’ve not seen a plot this large in sixteen years in this business.”
“Is it too big to work on?” Sian asked.
“Oh, no, it will be a wonderful project to complete. The sheds are still useable?”
He heard Sian’s little cough and immediately said, “Yes, though they could all do with a little work.”
“This is excellent. The brickwork all looks good, too. The Victorians knew how to build to last.”
“Part of the garden dates from the late eighteenth century,” he explained. “There was a hothouse at the far end of the south wall. I have photographs of the garden before it fell into disuse. You could look at them if you wish.”
“Would you like us to do a complete reconstruction of the garden as it was, sir? Or would you like to put your own stamp on the garden?” Ms. Raynalds asked.
He looked to Sian. “I…we would like to have some input in the ideas for the planting, yes?”
“Yes,” Sian said. “I’ve a lot of questions I’d like to ask when we go back inside.”
“Of course, Mrs. Johansson.”
“Would you like to go down into the garden, Ms. Raynalds?” he asked.
“Please, I’d like a brief look around, and please do call me Martha, if you would.”
“Very well, Martha. This way.” He led her and Sian down the path and through one of the gateways into the garden. Sian squeezed his fingers tight.
“Look at this.” Martha tapped at one wall of the arched gateway. “Best bonded brickwork. This garden must have been a top example in its heyday. I’ll take a quick stroll down along the rows if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, we’ll wait here.”
The young woman strode down the path at a fast pace.
“Tell me?” Sian said.
“I believe my first inclination was correct.”
“But she doesn’t know?”
He shook his head, watching as Martha bent and then crouched to look at something in one of the beds. “No. Perhaps Dorothy didn’t tell her anything. I don’t think she knows about her heritage.”
“Do you think she’s like…us?”
“No, not quite, or not yet.”
“Yet?”
He linked Sian’s arm through his. “It may be she could be awakened by something to that part of her heritage. I’d need to research it to discover if it were possible.”
“Oh, she’s coming back. You’ll have to tell me more later.”
“This is a fine garden, simply begging to be put to rights, Mr. Johansson. I’ll be very happy to take on this project if you wish me to.”
“Then we’ll make our way back to the house where we can discuss some ideas, perhaps some rough figures, and a timescale for activities.” He turned with Sian back toward the house. “Sian has a list of questions prepared, I believe.”
“Of course.” Martha strode beside them. “A quick estimate, I’d say there is approximately a year’s work to get this back to planting readiness.”
“And the fruit trees?” Sian asked.
“There are some viable, but they’ll need a lot of pruning, feeding, and general babying to get them back to their best. You’ve one or two breeds I’ve only seen recorded in Victorian head gardeners notebooks. I’m going to enjoy this project.”
“How big a team will you need for the work?” he asked.
“I’d say five permanent gardeners from my team, and extra staff for the heavy work as it comes up. I’ll work section by section, you see, not try to do everything all at once.”
“Hmm, I think that’s a good idea,” Sian said. “The work would all be quicker if your team were local.”
His heart sank. He’d no way to warn Sian against what he simply knew she’d propose next.
“Of course there are staff quarters over the stables, aren’t there, Magnus?”
He nodded. “They haven’t been used for some time. I don’t know if they’d be suitable.”
“But we could look at them and see, couldn’t we? Would your team prefer to live on-site for the project, Martha?”
The tall fair-haired woman stood still. “I can certainly ask. We have used a similar arrangement in the past on one project with the team members on-site for the week and off to see family at the weekend.”
He blew out a deep breath and looked to Sian. “After Christmas though, Martha. Work begins then.”
“Yes, Mr. Johansson. Due to the size of the garden, it will take at least that long for me to draw up plans for your approval. I made my estimate of working in December before I’d seen the size of the plot. I’ll visit several times during the month I would think, with your approval.”
“Excellent. We’ll go back indoors and get coffee.”
The three of them headed toward the house, discarded muddy Wellingtons and their coats, and made their way to the drawing room. Sian rang for coffee.
He sat opposite Martha. “It’s obviously too early for a detailed costing, but I would like an estimate as soon as possible, and a list of staff numbers. Arrangements would have to bed only. I’ve a limited kitchen staff.”
“I understand. Provided there are cooking facilities in the accommodation, my team will be happy.”
“Good. As to the overall cost of the project, I’ll await your figures.”
“Do you want me to source period planting for the garden, sir? I’m afraid if I do, it can add to the price.”
“Sian, what do you think?”
A trace of color highlighted her cheeks. “You must forgive me, but I’ve no idea what kind of money we’re talking about to do this work. I think some original varieties of plants would be ideal. We also need to look at how we are going to utilize produce when the garden bears fruit.”
“Don’t worry about the money. If we are going to do this, then it must be paid for.”
“I would suggest contacting local restaurants in the area as they are often the ones who will take smaller quantities of top grade fruit and vegetables in season,” Martha said. “There’s no shortage of good restaurants in this locality. If you discuss the idea with several chefs and find out what they may need before we plant, we could base some of the planting according to what they may require.”
He glanced to Sian as Mrs. Tyson came in with a tray of coffee and biscuits.
“Thanks, Mrs. Tyson,” she said. “Would you tell Cook I’d like to have her ideas on fruit and vegetables for the walled garden if she’d share them with me?”
“Of course, madam. I’ll tell her you asked.”
Sian picked up the coffee pot and pour
ed. He stood to take a cup and pass it to Martha, then picked up one for himself. “I think the best thing regarding the planting will be to discuss it with Sian who will research the possibilities of retailing the produce.”
“I will?”
“Yes. I already have the orangery as a project to oversee.”
“Okay.” Sian turned to face Martha. “If you can get the details to me before the end of December, that would be great. Send me an e-mail regarding dates you might want to return to visit the garden. I’ll also make sure the accommodation block above the stables is made ready for you and your team. How many was it again?”
“Five permanent gardeners will make up the main team for the duration of the project, with a possible addition of up to ten for occasional periods, Mrs. Johansson. I’ll have a detailed schedule for you before Christmas.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing it.”
Martha nodded. The charming, broad smile reminded him so much of Dorothy, he looked away.
“One thing I should have said earlier… I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it, but my team and I tend to find our planting work produces its best results if we time it to moon rhythms. You won’t have any objection to us working in such a way will you?”
Sian glanced across, and he shook his head to still any response she might make to the request. He sipped from his coffee cup, gaining time to make sure his voice held no hint of his surprise. “No, Martha, we won’t mind. We quite understand the importance of moon rhythms.”
Chapter 28
Magnus opened his eyes at the bleep of the alarm from Sian’s phone. He roused from the deep meditative state he’d striven to find for the last two hours. Sian sat opposite, her eyes gleaming in the gloom. He’d not found a link to her as he’d meditated. She’d remained bundled in the here and now, a captive to her nervous fervor. He ached for her apprehensions, but tonight he understood each nuance of her fears. He could do nothing, it would seem, to give her peace.
He doused the scented candle on the small table between them. Her idea, and one he’d enjoyed. He offered her his hand. “I think we should go now.”
