Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances

by Kimberly Rae Jordan

  Her sister reached for her hand. “I’m only concerned for you. Why else would you be going to this event, if not that this man has already gotten under your skin?”

  “I may be innocent for my age, but I’m far from naïve. I have never been duped by a man, and the only reason I’m going is because this is an incredible opportunity for my business. Think of the clients I could land by going to the Rathbone Spring Ball.”

  “Ah, now the Levens Hall Spring Ball I know about. It’s a historical event, one the family has upheld annually for over three centuries. Are you sure he said it was to be an engagement party too?”

  “Well, he didn’t exactly say the word, but when I told him I’d named the design ‘Garden of Love’, he said it was fitting, epitomizing the reason he’d commissioned the piece. If that isn’t letting slip about an engagement, then I don’t know what is.”

  “Sounds like it could be, but still…”

  Enough talk about Davis and his love life. Maggie stood. “Why don’t you get some clothes on and you can take my car for a drive? I’ll treat you to breakfast at Strawberry Teas. There’s a good reason Clover introduced us to the place.” Their youngest sister knew food. Strawberry Teas was no exception to her remarkable taste.

  Poppy licked her lips as she bounded from the couch. “Two tempting offers that I can’t refuse. Don’t move. I’ll be back in five minutes tops.”

  Maggie clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. Talking about tempting offers, would Davis Rathbone be one she could refuse? By the sound of things, for her sake he’d better be.

  *

  Roses are red, violets are blue. I love magnolias, since I met you.

  A smile played on Davis’s face as he set his pen and diary down beside him on the soft green grass then leaned back against the oak tree and closed his eyes. He breathed deep of the freshness of spring. Flowers bursting into bloom filled the air with their aroma. The rippling of the River Kent flowing past filled his ears with its gentle music. What would Sir Edmund Spenser think of Lord Davis Rathbone’s rendition of his poem, a century older than Levens Hall itself?

  Not exactly original. Nevertheless playful. He hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time, and it showed in his writing. The mere thought of Magnolia Blume was inspiration itself to write sonnet upon sonnet, and give Shakespeare and Keats a run for their rhymes. He’d certainly penned some masterpieces about the Keswick jeweler the past fortnight. He had been cool and standoffish with her in the beginning to dissuade his feelings, but it didn’t help. The more he tried not to think about her, the more the poems came. Until he had no choice but to empty himself of his words.

  Picking up a small stone he’d dislodged from the grass, Davis threw it toward the river. The stone drifted carefree through the air before gravity beckoned. It plopped into the water. Eager to pass the time until midday and anxious to revel in every memory of Maggie, he opened his diary and flipped through the pages. His thoughts turned to the feel of her skin against his as he pushed the ring back on her finger two days ago. Lord, dare I let my mind wander down this path?

  He should write another poem.

  Taking up his pen, Davis pressed the nib onto the paper and allowed the ink, and his feelings, to flow.

  Breathe deep O my soul of this fragrant bloom

  As fingers dare brush against the softest of skin

  My heart soars with love until there’s no room

  Reach out to pluck, then stop ’fore I sin

  For you belong on the branches where the season’s turn

  Morphs the bud and the blossom to the daintiest flower

  Passions long time buried, inflamed they now burn

  Fragile floret, how canst thou wield such great power?

  Like a blossom that loses its grip on the tree

  I’m falling so deeply in love with you

  Could you give me your heart, could you love one like me?

  My sweetest Magnolia in differing pink hue

  Weave your heart into mine on life’s intricate loom

  And say you’ll be mine, my Magnolia Blume

  Davis set down the pen and glanced at his wristwatch. Almost noon. He scrambled to his feet, let out a low whistle, and then waited.

  On the opposite side of the River Kent, a soft rustle slithered out from the forest floor, followed by a snort.

  “Excalibur!” Davis whistled again, louder this time. The black stallion emerged from the woodlands of Levens Park. “C’mon, boy, or we’ll be late. Why on God’s beautiful green earth would you think the grass is greener on the other side?” But hadn’t he made that same mistake? Many times.

  Excalibur raised himself up on his hind legs and whinnied before bounding onto the narrow riverbank. He splashed through the knee-deep water toward Davis.

  After shoving his pen and diary into the inside pocket of his jacket, Davis grabbed Excalibur’s reins, placed his foot in the stirrup, and swung up into the saddle.

  Sensing Davis’s urgency to return, the stallion galloped along the river’s edge, weaving through the mile-long avenue of oak trees as he headed toward Levens Hall. And Magnolia Blume. Hopefully.

  Would she come, as she’d said? Would she be punctual? If Excalibur didn’t speed up, Davis wouldn’t be. Digging his heels into the horse’s side, he spurred the animal to move faster.

  As Excalibur cantered up the drive toward Levens Hall, Davis spotted a black and gray BMW pulling to a stop. Must be her.

  Eyes on the prize, he waited for the car door to open as the gap between them narrowed.

  Chapter Three

  Blowing out a breath, Maggie cut the engine. Now what? She peered through the windshield, her eyes travelling up the high gray walls of Levens Hall, and swallowed hard. She’d no sooner cleared the lump in her throat and the pounding in her chest bounced it right back up there again. Why had she come? She was way out of her depth here.

  She closed her eyes and turned her thoughts to the gardens she’d admired as she drove up the driveway. They were certainly something. Hopefully she’d have time to wander through them later. Touring them alone would be reason enough to have made this trip. Wouldn’t Dad love to be here? He’d do anything to see all this. No doubt Maggie would need to give him a flower by flower account of the experience next time she visited. She should’ve stopped in this morning—she’d practically driven past her parents’ doorstep. But if she had, she would never have gotten away—not between Heather and Lily, and especially little Connor. She loved that nephew of hers.

  Of course, gardens hadn’t featured in her decision to attend today. Maggie pushed the image of the true reason she’d taken the hour’s drive this morning from her mind. She was here to network, that’s all. Not to see a certain baron who was getting engaged tonight. And if she continued to tell herself that was the reason she was here, she’d soon believe it. Why couldn’t he have been as prickly to her on Thursday as he’d been in his emails and phone conversations the past few weeks? Why did he have to suddenly be so charming? It was like a different person had come to collect the ring.

  Pulling the sun visor down, Maggie examined her lipstick. All fine. As it should be. Poppy’s house was a mere half-hour away, and she’d touched up just before leaving. She checked her teeth. Perfect. She’d hate to be smiling all afternoon only to later find some remnant of breakfast lurking between her pearly whites.

  She flipped the sun visor back into place then reached across to the floor of the passenger seat and grabbed her handbag. As she turned to open the door, she started. An enormous black shadow filled her window. Abandoning her bag on the handbrake, her hands flew to her chest. Catching her breath, she eased the door open, and the blackness retreated. A little.

  With a laugh, she emerged from the car. “Goodness, you gave me such a fright.”

  “Afternoon, Maggie.”

  Davis Rathbone’s voice was as smooth and deep as she remembered. How could she forget? It had played over in her mind the past two days like a broken recor
d.

  “Hello.” She returned his smile.

  “Nice car. Great color.”

  “Certainly not as impressive as your ride. Or as black.” Her smile widened. Stop it. He’s engaged. Almost. And even if he weren’t, Poppy said not to go there. He’s a womanizer. And men like that cannot be trusted.

  “Excalibur? He is a beauty, but definitely not as much horsepower as your BMW—” He pulled on the reins and walked the stallion around to the back of the car. “i3. Electric? How does it drive?”

  Maggie shut the car door and followed his lead. “Great. Which reminds me—can I plug her in somewhere to charge? My sister took her for a drive this morning, for far too long, which means I may not make it back home.”

  “Her?”

  “My car.”

  “Your car has a gender?”

  Maggie narrowed her brows for a second before remembering who the host was. She forced her face to soften. “Yes. Doesn’t yours?”

  “To be honest, I really hadn’t given it much thought.”

  Probably owns too many cars to give them all names.

  Maggie pushed the judgmental thought aside. She shouldn’t make assumptions. She didn’t know him. Matter of fact, could she make the assumptions she had about his character based on what Poppy had told her? Glossy tabloids were all about sensationalism, whatever would empty magazine racks and put pounds into the pockets of the publishers. Who knew whether or not the truth was reported?

  “So, may I charge my car somewhere?”

  “Of course.”

  Squinting, Maggie shielded her eyes with one hand. If only he’d come down off his high horse so she could speak with him face to face, instead of making her stare up into the glaring sun haloed behind his head. “Should I park somewhere else?” She had stopped practically at his front door. She glanced back. Was that last portion even part of the drive, or was it a walkway? She feared the latter.

  “No. Leave your keys in the car, Jeeves will park it—” he grinned, “I mean her, and put her on charge.”

  He was making fun of her? She couldn’t very well challenge him, though. She was a guest.

  “Is it safe to leave the keys?”

  “Yes. The estate is secure.” Excalibur gave a few steps sideways. Pulling on the reins, Davis brought him back in front of Maggie. “But, if you’re nervous, you can lock the car. I’ll leave the key and instructions with our butler.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll just grab my handbag, though.” Maggie walked back to the driver’s door as Davis pulled out his cellphone. She opened the door and leaned inside, listening to Davis as she slipped the key back into the ignition.

  “It’s me. Please get Jeeves to pull the BMW that’s parked out front around to the side of the house, and put it on charge. It’s electric. The keys are in the ignition. Oh, and have the staff set an extra place at the lunch table—I have a guest.”

  Her fingers clasped around the handles of her leather handbag, the pink a shade darker than her jersey. Sliding the handles to her elbow, she shut the car door and turned to Davis.

  “I must get Excalibur back to the stables,” he said.

  Hard as she tried not to allow it, his voice sent quivers to the corners of her being. Her head swam, and inside her knee-high boots, her toes curled. She’d have to take care she didn’t fall flat on her face the moment she took a step.

  And her heart? If she wasn’t careful it could very well bounce right out of that angora sweater like a rabbit in a race.

  This is crazy.

  “Would you care to join me?”

  Join him? The alternative frightened her almost as much. She certainly had no desire to stand around alone on the front steps of the manor house with a hoard of hoity-toity strangers arriving at any minute.

  “Sure. Is it far?”

  “Not far enough.” He held out his hand, his mouth tipping up at the corners.

  “Y–you want me to get up there?”

  “It will make for easier conversing. One of us is bound to get a pain in the neck if you don’t.”

  “You could always come down to my level, Lord Rathbone.”

  “Davis. Remember?”

  “Yes, Davis, I do.”

  Maggie hitched the handbag’s handles up to her shoulder, tucking the accessory underneath her arm. She could see he had no intention of dismounting. She’d probably be the one to get a stiff neck. Well, no way. With the other arm, she reached up and grabbed hold of his outstretched hand. His grip tightened as she placed her foot in the stirrup he’d vacated for her benefit. Before she knew what had happened, he had her right up there behind him on Excalibur. Her fingers folded around the edge of the saddle. Tight.

  Davis glanced down at her hand and chuckled. “Best you hold on to me if you don’t want to fall off.”

  She shot a look to the ground far below, and her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands clasping each other like a buckle. Why had she agreed to ride instead of walk? Had she fallen prey to his seducing ways already?

  “I didn’t notice any other cars here. You did say the festivities commenced at noon, didn’t you?”

  “I did. And they have.” He spoke over his shoulder, his breath warm and minty. “You are having fun, aren’t you?”

  Maggie gave a nervous laugh. “I–I will as long as Excalibur keeps at this pace.”

  “You don’t like speed?”

  “Not on the back of a horse where I have no saddle, no stirrups, and no reins.” The most nerve-wracking of all, the need, and desire, to hold onto you.

  “I can at least oblige with one thing.” He tucked the leather straps under Maggie’s fingers. “And believe me, I fully intend to make this journey last as long as I can.”

  Clutching the reins higher up, Davis guided Excalibur forward, away from her car, leaving the manor house behind, as well.

  Maggie delighted in the tall trees they passed, trunks as wide as the length of her car. “Those must be really old.”

  Davis turned to her. “Three hundred years, most of them.”

  “Wow, that is old. This place must have so much history.”

  “You have no idea.”

  The way he answered, did he speak of Levens Hall’s history, or his own?

  After exiting the grounds of the estate through a gated entrance, they trailed the edge of what appeared to be a large car park. That would probably soon overflow with all kinds of fancy vehicles in a myriad of colors.

  Davis pulled the right-hand rein and the horse obeyed, changing direction. Large oaks to the right blocked their view. The stables probably sat nestled somewhere in the trees that lay straight ahead.

  When they got to the end of the sandy lane, Davis tugged the reins again. Excalibur veered to the right once more.

  Soon Maggie recognized the road she’d turned onto from the A6, and the gates leading back into Levens Hall up ahead. A third right turn brought them full circle.

  Excalibur clip-clopped through the open entrance and across the lawn, heading to the left and toward the stables.

  Maggie tapped Davis on the shoulder. “You could’ve just led him down the driveway.”

  His body vibrated with a chuckle. “I know. But I did warn you that I intended to make this journey last as long as I could.”

  “That you did.”

  When they got to the stables, a twinge of regret stabbed at Maggie’s heart that the journey had ended. Davis slid down off the stallion and handed the reins to the stableboy before stretching his arms up and helping Maggie to the ground. Trapped between Excalibur and Davis, she took a deep breath. Shouldn’t have done that. He smelled as good as he looked, and Maggie certainly didn’t need more reason for distraction. If his so-called reputation was anything to go by, she was in a precarious situation—the kind that would have his hand trailing up her arm until it found her hair and began to play with a strand, curling it around his fingers. That’s when he’d ease her head toward his while his lips sought hers.

  What should
she do? Maybe just put him to the test and be done with it. Prove that what she’d heard about him was true. She shouldn’t have come, and that would be a perfect excuse to leave. She didn’t really need the networking. Her business was doing all right, although it would be nice to land some of those high profile clients. But at what expense?

  Davis leaned forward.

  I knew it.

  He slapped Excalibur on the rump. “In you go, boy.” Taking a step back from Maggie, he addressed the stableboy. “Brush him down. And Aphrodite, as well. Then have them both ready and saddled in two hours.”

  Probably planning a sunset ride with his soon-to-be fiancée. Well, good for them. At least it’ll keep him out of my way. Not that she really wanted him out of her way.

  This wasn’t good—those strange butterfly-like feelings that kept fluttering in her stomach. Hopefully by the time they walked back to the manor house, he’d find his girlfriend and leave her alone.

  *

  What providence to have arrived back home at exactly the same time as Maggie. It had given him the perfect opportunity to ask her to ride with him. And now he could walk her back to the manor house, too. More time alone.

  Davis made no attempt to hide his fascination. Why should he? She was single. He was single. They were both consenting adults. No reason not to pursue a relationship with Magnolia Blume, something he looked forward to.

  He gave her elbow a light touch. “Would you care to stroll through the topiary garden on our way back? It’s listed in the Guinness Book of Records as being the oldest in the world. I think you will find the trees impressive.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Around three hundred years, too—like the trees we passed earlier.”

  “I’d love to see the topiary. My father would never forgive me if I didn’t wander through your gardens and give him an accurate account of each and every bush—its shape, its size, its color.”

  A smile tugged at Davis’s mouth. She hadn’t protested taking a walk with him. Good. “That will be a lengthy father-daughter conversation.”

  Maggie gazed up at him, her eyes mirroring the question that followed.