Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances

by Kimberly Rae Jordan

  “Move back,” she whispered. “Out of here—to the kitchen—give a girl some privacy, will you?”

  The entrance hall emptied of all but herself. Maggie swallowed hard and placed a trembling hand on the doorknob just as a fresh round of knocking came. When it subsided, she opened the door, her sense of resolve fleeing at the sight of Davis.

  He stepped closer and leaned against the doorjamb, giving her one of those irresistibly charming smiles. “Maggie.”

  She lowered her gaze and focused on the trendy black boots blending into designer jeans. She raised her eyes slowly until she reached the crisp white shirt he’d tucked into his denims. A black leather belt, the silver DG buckle the designer’s signature, separated the shirt and pants. Davis had half hidden all this just-stepped-out-of-a-magazine look beneath the three-quarter length black overcoat he wore to keep out the crisp spring air.

  Maggie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Where had her voice disappeared? She tried again. “Hi.”

  “Can we talk?”

  She gave a slight nod. “I think we should.”

  “May I come inside then?”

  “Let’s rather go for a walk.” This was no matter to discuss with her sisters hiding within earshot.

  “I’m sorry. You have company? I could come back later if this is an inconvenient time.”

  No. They needed to get this fiasco sorted out. The sooner the better.

  “I–it’s no one, really.”

  “No one? Shame on you, Maggie Blume.” Poppy strode in from the kitchen to where Maggie and Davis stood at the front door. She was not alone. Maggie’s shadows had attached themselves to Poppy. She shoved her hand out to Davis. “Come inside.” She beckoned him in with her hand.

  Maggie glared at Poppy. Should’ve known she’d pull something like this. Behind her, Heather gave a slight curtsy, while Lily eased to the other side of their oldest sister, baby firmly planted on her slender hip.

  Davis took a step forward, taking care not to fall over all their shoes. Ugh, why hadn’t they stacked them in a neat row?

  “Call me Davis, please.”

  Little Connor gave a squeal and lunged for Davis. Poor little mite probably missed having a daddy—he seemed to relish male company.

  Panic flashed into Davis’s eyes as he caught Connor. “Well now, that’s a warm welcome.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Lily reached for Connor.

  “Don’t worry. He’s okay here with me. I think.” He smiled. His gaze fixed on Maggie as Connor’s chubby hand brushed his cheek. The baby giggled, and Davis let out a low chuckle. He turned his attention to Heather and Lily. “You must be Maggie’s sisters, too.”

  “Yes. I’m Lily, that’s Heather, and this little man is Connor, my son. If he becomes a handful, let me know.”

  Davis smiled and shooed away Lily’s concerns. “I like a challenge. It’s certainly a pleasure to meet more blossoms in the beautiful Blume bouquet.”

  Laughter slid from Poppy, Lily and Heather’s lips.

  Poppy leaned close to Maggie. “Oh, he is charming, just like you said.” Her intended whisper was anything but soft.

  Heat rushed to Maggie’s cheeks. Mercy. Could things get any worse?

  Davis stared at Maggie, his grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You find me charming? That’s a good start, I guess.”

  Warmth that had barely subsided, crept up Maggie’s neck once more. She took Connor from Davis and passed him back to his mother. The baby protested with a loud wail and held out his hands again. Maggie gripped Davis’s arm, nudging him toward the doorway as she slipped her feet into her shoes. It was time to leave this party, but would a walk outside offer them the privacy they needed? She glanced at his car. That would get them far enough away from her sisters in a hurry. “Why don’t we take a drive? Find a quieter place to talk?”

  *

  Davis plucked a daisy from the grass beside him and twirled it between his fingers. What a peaceful spot Maggie had brought him to. If he’d discovered this piece of heaven on earth before, he would’ve filled a dozen more books of poetry. It was the woman beside him, though, who fueled these feelings of inspiration more than the view over the still waters of Lake Derwentwater. This place was perfect to let Maggie know exactly how he felt about her.

  They hadn’t spoken much in the car. Maggie had asked him to let the top down before they left—wanted to feel the wind in her hair, she’d said. Her sisters begged to see the Ferrari topless, too. Davis was happy to oblige them. Consequently, the drone of the engine filling the open car made any conversation difficult. He suspected Maggie had planned it that way. She seemed to need the time to gather her thoughts, perhaps in preparation for speaking them in the tranquility of this place.

  He hadn’t missed the movement of her fingers over the ring on the short journey to the lake. He was surprised that she was still wearing it, but was she planning to give it back? If so, it did not look like the idea pleased her.

  Seated close to the water’s edge, they watched in silence as two ducks gathered their chicks closer to the water, weaving through the daffodils lining the lake. With the slightest of splashes, the feathered family set sail.

  The momentary distraction over, Davis turned to Maggie. “Did I tell you how beautiful you looked last night?”

  She pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. “Several times.” A smile eased onto her lips.

  Davis resisted the urge to lean over and kiss them.

  Maggie drew the ring from her finger, and Davis’s heart did a freefall to the pit of his stomach. There was nothing he could do to stop the frown forming on his brow as she released her legs, and extended her palm to him. The diamonds glistened in the midmorning sun against her skin.

  She focused her gaze on him. “I–I can’t keep this. I’m not sure what last night was all about, but whatever it was, I cannot agree to marry you.”

  Davis swallowed hard as he lifted the ring from her open hand and balled it into his fist. The feel of it in his closed palm nauseated him. He shoved it into his jacket pocket.

  Her gaze fell again, this time to her empty finger, and she rubbed the spot that moments before had sparkled with a garden of love. Did she miss it already? Could he hope to win her heart?

  Maggie’s breathing accelerated. “Plus I’ve heard things about you. I will not be another name on your list of conquests.”

  “Maggie, it’s not like that. Not anymore. Not since the day I turned my life around. God rules those emotions now, and He’s doing a pretty good job of it. You’re the first woman I’ve allowed myself to be drawn to since my conversion three years ago. I promise you’ll be the last.” He reached for her hands and folded them in his. “I have fallen in love with you, Magnolia Blume. Won’t you say you feel the same, too? You can’t deny the attraction between us.”

  “I—” Maggie pulled her hands back and rose. “I can’t. I don’t know you.”

  *

  How could breaking up with someone you barely knew be so hard? Maggie turned away, unable to look at Davis. If only this could be different. If only they stood a chance. If only they could start again. Could that even be an option for them? Or was this it—crazy fast engagement, or nothing?

  Lord, this whole thing is so bizarre, but I trust You. If this is the man You’ve chosen for me, I know You’ll work it out.

  Maggie stared across the lake. Now what? Should she turn around and walk home? If she did, she’d have to face Davis, and she didn’t want to look at the anguish in his eyes again. Did her rebuff of him and his proposal hurt because he was used to getting any woman he wanted, or did he really care for her? What if his silence said what she didn’t want to hear, that he was not used to losing?

  Guess she’d never know. She should probably start walking home.

  She pivoted around, right into Davis’s arms. A gasp caught in her throat. How had she not heard him move from his seat of rejection to come and stand behind her? Maggie wille
d her body to move past him, to keep on walking, but those eyes that reminded her of a cloudless day held her captive.

  “Hi there.”

  Despite not wanting to make small talk, Maggie returned his smile with a hesitant “Hi” as she took a step back.

  He rubbed his chin, feigning thought. “Have we met somewhere before?”

  “I—”

  “Probably not. I would’ve remembered someone as beautiful as you.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Davis.”

  She’d play along, see where this was headed. “Maggie.” Her fingers wrapped around his, their touch lingering far longer than the intended handshake.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Not as often as I’d like to.”

  Davis gave a lopsided grin. “We could rectify that. I’d love to bring you here again, but I should tell you more about myself first, don’t you think?”

  Maggie nodded. Perhaps she’d been wrong. It seemed he was trying to do this the right way.

  “In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m thirty-three years old—thirty-four, actually, in July. I was born and raised at Levens Hall, the eldest of two sons, and titled Baron Rathbone, my father not yet wishing to bestow on me the title of Viscount that he’s entitled to. I can’t blame him, though.

  “I was married for nearly four years and have been divorced almost as long. Not surprising—I was a terrible husband, caring little about faithfulness. Perhaps things would have been different had the choice of a wife been mine. I would have chosen for love, not duty. At least now, having grown up and found my maturity in Christ, I would.” Davis’s gaze drifted across the lake. “Still, immaturity and lack of choice are no excuse for my behavior, for the way I treated my former wife. But, that’s water under the bridge.” He exhaled. “I think my brother and I have both been such disappointments to my mother and father.”

  Maggie touched his hand. It was all she could do for now, although her heart wanted to wrap him in her arms like a blanket and shelter him from the cold reality of his past mistakes. “I don’t think you’re a disappointment to your parents. I saw the way they looked at you yesterday, the way they interacted with you, and I can tell that they are proud of who you are.” She held his gaze. “But your brother—”

  “He ran away. Took his inheritance a year ago and hightailed it to Europe with not a word since the day he left.”

  That explained the sadness in his mother’s eyes.

  “I’m so sorry. Did he have a bad relationship with your parents? With you?”

  Davis shook his head. “No. At least not with my parents. I’m the big brother, so of course Paxton and I had our differences, but that’s not the reason he left. He just wanted to experience the world and do life on his own.”

  “But no contact? That’s a bit harsh.”

  “Yes, it is. However, I’m not standing here to talk about my long lost brother. So, moving along…contrary to popular belief, I do not lounge around all day at garden parties. When I’m not down in London attending to matters of Parliament at the House of Lords, I run my own company—Rathbone Investments.

  “I don’t spend my days cruising the Cumbrian countryside in my Ferrari, either, or my nights in a different woman’s bed. Whatever you may have heard about me, Maggie, it’s all old news. Very old. Unfortunately, I cannot change my past.” He shook his head. “I wish I could, but I can’t. However, there are some things I can change. I can change today. I can change tomorrow. And if you’ll allow me, I’d like you to be a part of your every today. I want you in my future, Magnolia Blume. I’m not talking about anything as drastic as I pulled last night—” He grinned. “Yet. But I would like to court you and see where that leads.”

  Maggie lowered her gaze briefly before focusing on Davis once more.

  His eyes searched hers for an answer.

  With such a beautiful, old fashioned proposition, how could she say no?

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re really holding me ransom on this?” Maggie pouted as Davis nodded and pushed open the door to her jewelry store. The bell tinkled. Most days, music to her ears as it announced incoming customers. But today, as in the past three weeks, it heralded the end of her lunch date with Davis. Every day at noon he’d appear at the store to take her for lunch, after which the afternoon would drag on until she heard the roar of his Ferrari in her driveway that evening. Sometimes she would cook a meal at home for them, other nights he’d take her out for dinner. The past two weekends they had spent at Levens Hall. How she’d enjoyed getting to know Davis. And his parents. She’d learnt so much about him, except the one thing that tormented her curiosity—for whom he’d actually commissioned the ‘Garden of Love’.

  Hand on the door he waited while she brushed past him. “My answer’s the same as it was the very first time you asked me, dear Maggie—I will tell you the day you agree to marry me.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that if you haven’t asked me again.” Looking over her shoulder, she grinned and stepped across the threshold just as a reporter rushed up beside Davis. The attractive thirty-something woman, smartly dressed in navy slacks and jacket, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, shoved a microphone in his face.

  “Lord Rathbone, our readers are dying to know about the progression of your relationship with Miss Blume. Are your days as England’s most eligible bachelor numbered?”

  Maggie hadn’t enjoyed this part of dating Davis, although the media attention had eased a little in the past few days. The photographer beside the microphone-wielding-woman doused them with flashes.

  Ignoring her question, Davis raised a hand, shielding his face from the camera as he urged Maggie forward with the other.

  What would this circus be like the day she did walk down the aisle with him? Assuming of course he got around to asking her again, and assuming of course that she said yes, although Maggie had thought of little else during the time they’d been seeing each other. That, and their first kiss, of course—which had yet to happen. Did he really have to be this cautious? She longed to feel the hunger on her lips that at times she glimpsed in his eyes.

  The journalist pressed on with her questions. “Are you any closer to getting that gorgeous ring back on Maggie’s finger? Will the country hear the sound of wedding bells this summer?”

  Stopping in the doorway, Davis turned. “I promise to give a full statement to the press the day that happens. But until such time, please, will you leave us alone?” Without another word he shut the door, giving him and Maggie their privacy. Except for Jayne behind the counter.

  Jayne paused running the yellow polishing cloth over the glass counter. Soft ripples lined her brow. She stared at Davis. “They’re still hounding you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. One would think they had nobody else to bother.”

  He seemed annoyed. Maggie placed her hands against his chest, her gaze focusing on his as she smiled. “At least it’s not as bad as it was in the beginning.”

  Davis offered a weak smile in return. “At least.”

  She stretched onto her toes and gave him a light kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you later?”

  His smile strengthened. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  As she watched him walk out the door, Maggie touched her cheek where his stubble had brushed against her skin. She wouldn’t want him to be anywhere else either. Hopefully tonight would be the night she finally tasted his kisses.

  She turned to Jayne. “I’ll be in my workshop. I’ve a ton of designing to get through. If things carry on like this, I will need to hire more staff. Fast.” At least the publicity had been good for something.

  Barely an hour had passed when Jayne opened the workshop door. She stuck her head inside. “There’s someone to see you, Maggie.” She kept her voice low.

  “Oh.” Maggie pushed her chair back and started to loosen her apron. “Who?”

  “Mrs. Rathbone.”

  “Davis’s mother is here? In my shop? I w
onder what she wants.”

  Jayne shook her head. “No. This woman is far too young to be his mother.” She lowered her voice further. “I think it’s his ex-wife.”

  Ex-wife? Seriously? She didn’t need any trouble. What could the woman possibly want with her?

  Stopping at the door beside Jayne, Maggie whispered. “Would you mind giving us some privacy? I think we may need it.”

  Jayne nodded.

  “There’s a new coffee shop just opened on the corner of Blencathra and Southey. Go have a cup or three on me.”

  Her smile walking a tightrope with her concern, Jayne turned to go.

  Maggie grasped her arm. “Flip the door sign to closed on your way out, please. Once I’m done, I’ll switch it back.”

  She followed Jayne out into the showroom where an elegant woman perused the showcases, engrossed in their contents. Her hair, dark like Davis’s, cascaded down her back in a silky stream.

  Maggie placed a finger on her lips, and Jayne slipped past unnoticed.

  The doorbell’s tinkle drew the woman’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder toward the closing door, and then her head spun the other way to Maggie. She turned.

  Maggie caught her breath and swallowed hard. Arranged marriage or not, why on God’s green earth would Davis want to be unfaithful to someone like that? If this woman couldn’t keep Davis’s eye from wandering, what chance did she stand?

  A row of perfect white emerged from behind full red lips. “Magnolia Blume?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “Victoria Rathbone.” She stepped closer, extended her French-manicured nails and wrapped her hand around Maggie’s. Her perfume held Maggie’s sense of smell captive. Would it be inappropriate to ask for the name of the fragrance?

  Victoria motioned toward the display cases. “Are these all your designs?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d heard you were talented, but I never thought you’d be this good.”