Garden of Dragons (Dark Gardens Series Book 3)

by Meara Platt

  She would show him.

  This meek country mouse had not yet begun to fight.

  *

  Anabelle peered out of her bedroom window the following morning anxiously studying the gray clouds gathering overhead. It was early yet and there was a decided chill in the air. She wondered whether a snowstorm was brewing, though there had been little snow so far this March. No, more likely it would rain.

  Either way, the weather would interfere with her plans.

  She had resolved to act casually toward Saron when next they met, pretending yesterday’s incident had never happened. It would be for the best, she thought a little sadly, for it would spare her further embarrassment. Besides, to make a fuss over a simple kiss would only set herself up for further ridicule and she didn’t want that.

  She needed to gain his respect and be left the management of Harleigh. She wished to own Harleigh, but that would have to come later. Better to take matters one step at a time. To that end, she decided to show Saron the experimental gardens, then take him on a tour of the estate to view the fields, mill, barns, and perhaps to meet a few of her tenant farmers. She corrected herself, they were his tenant farmers for the moment. Afterward, she would show him her crowning glory, her laboratory.

  If he needed further convincing of her competence, she would take him to Keswick to meet some of the local merchants who regularly purchased Harleigh wool, corn, meat, and dairy products.

  She groaned as a raindrop hit her nose. The weather was not cooperating. How would she fit in a drive along Derwentwater, the prettiest lake in all of England? That was an important part of her plan, for she didn’t want Saron leaving here thinking Harleigh was as common a place as the London docks.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated with all her might. “Please stop raining. Please, please stop.”

  More drops of rain hit her nose. Vexed, she leaned out further hoping to spot a clearing in the distance. There was none. The distant sky appeared even darker, and judging by the wind, the worst of the storm was headed this way, like a black dragon swooping toward her on silent wings.

  That’s when she noticed Saron emerging from the mist that swirled across the bluebell garden. No, it couldn’t be him. He was dressed so oddly, wearing black leather pants that hugged his powerful legs and a black leather vest that hid nothing of his muscled arms.

  And what was he doing carrying an ax?

  He looked up to meet her gaze.

  Her heart shot into her throat, for his eyes were dark and soulless.

  “Move along, girl,” Dolly said, startling her as she tramped into the room. “The handsome duke will be here soon and look at ye, hangin’ out the window in yer skimpies like nothin’ more than a common London doxy. How can he miss ye with that blaring hair of yours?”

  “I think he’s already here.” Anabelle turned back to the garden, but the man she’d seen a moment ago was gone.

  Had she imagined him?

  She must have.

  Saron was a duke of the realm, not a barbarian from another time. He would never dress so oddly.

  She ducked her head back in, shivering as she closed the window. “I thought I saw him in the garden wading through the beds of bluebells, but I must have been mistaken. He wouldn’t be lurking out there. So you see, I’m quite safe.”

  “Hah! You ain’t safe from the likes o’ that one.”

  “That makes us even then, for he isn’t safe from the likes of me.” She stuck her hands on her hips and smiled impudently at Dolly. However, her thoughts were still in turmoil. Had she just seen Saron outside her window? “If he tries to take me away from Harleigh, I’ll lay him low.”

  “Brave talk from such a little girl.” She playfully swatted Anabelle’s behind. “Now come on with ye, it’s time to get dressed. How about wearin’ that pretty blue gown yer father got ye last year. I imagine it’s still fashionable, at least in these parts.”

  “I’ll wear black, as always,” she countered, a little annoyed. Only yesterday, Dolly had warned her to dress plainly so as not to tempt the duke. “I won’t change my ways simply because Saron is paying a call.”

  “Oh, Saron is it now? Aren’t we chummy with his high and mightiness?”

  Anabelle laughed. “He insisted that I call him by his name. He preferred it to my other forms of address, though I can’t imagine why Devil or Dragon would offend him.”

  “Naughty girl.” She held out Anabelle’s dress while Anabelle stepped into it. “He went easy on ye yesterday, but I doubt he’ll take much more of your antics today.”

  “Nonsense. He’ll take whatever I dish out because he knows it will go worse for him if he doesn’t.”

  Dolly finished fastening her gown, then turned her around so that they faced each other. “The man’s had a hard life, missie. Ye see it in his eyes. He goes gently with ye because you’re a pretty thing and little more than a child, but he’s not a man to cross. I fancy his patience will run out quick and I wouldn’t want to be in his path when it does.”

  Shrugging, Anabelle flicked her hair off her shoulders and glanced into the mirror. Her hair, she noted with dismay, was in a tumble down her back and in desperate need of brushing. “I can handle men,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

  Indeed, she felt no confidence when it came to dealing with Saron.

  Dolly sniffed. “Ye’ve handled boys up to now.” She grabbed the hairbrush off the dressing table, then nudged Anabelle onto its matching stool. With firm but careful strokes, she began to put some order to her unruly tresses. “Yer foolin’ yerself if ye think he’s like the others.”

  “Ouch! You’re pulling too hard.”

  “My apologies, missie. You spoke so brazenly, I forgot ye were such a delicate little thing.”

  “Your point is made.” Anabelle turned to the woman she considered more friend than housekeeper. “Dolly, the duke does have an air of danger about him, doesn’t he?”

  “Aye,” she answered, pausing a moment in her brushing.

  “And a certain mystery, too. I saw something in his eyes when I threatened to shoot him, or rather, it was a lack of something.” She stayed the brush in Dolly’s hands another moment when she attempted to resume. “He had no fear. In truth, he might have known I wouldn’t shoot him, but it wasn’t just that. It was as though he didn’t care whether or not the rifle was loaded. I think he’s faced death more than once before,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “Aye, I noticed it, too. But have a care, lass. Fear and death haven’t dulled his interest in the fairer sex.”

  Anabelle frowned. Lord and Lady Chalmers regularly filled her in on London gossip, but little of it was about his sexual exploits. He was discreet, she’d grant him that.

  “Och, he’d be a hard man to resist if he took a mind to seduce ye.”

  She glanced away to hide her blush. Regaining her composure, she casually leaned an elbow against the dressing table and gazed impertinently at Dolly. “Rakehells do not interest me in the least. Can you imagine me marrying a man like that? Why within a month of the wedding, he’d be on the prowl for a new woman to warm his bed. Ugh!” She gave a mock shudder, then realized she had inadvertently spoken the truth. “Can you imagine me putting up with a husband’s philandering ways?” she asked quietly.

  “You? No, lass.” But she paused in thought a moment. “Yet, they do say rakehells often make the best husbands. They get the wildness out of their system before taking their vows. I’m suddenly wonderin’ if he’s lost his wildness.”

  Anabelle shook her head. “I doubt anyone can take the wildness out of him. He’s seen too much evil ever to be completely civilized. He told me so himself, though he wouldn’t tell me exactly what evil he’d seen. I think it was terrible though.” She stood up as Dolly finished pinning her hair, her mind wandering to the pain she’d noted in Saron’s eyes a time or two yesterday. But it seemed an unforgivable trespass on his privacy to discuss it now with Dolly so she quickly changed the topic. “He
also told me I looked awful in black.”

  “Did he now? Then better that you do wear that hideous color to keep him from gettin’ too interested in ye, if you know what I mean.”

  “You have no cause to worry on that score.” She tried not to sound too dejected. “He thinks of me as a child.”

  Dolly cocked an eyebrow. “I may be daft, but I ain’t blind. The man has taken notice of you, missie.”

  Anabelle stopped her with an impatient wave of her hand. “He’s my guardian on Lord Markby’s orders, and as my guardian must protect me from the likes of men such as he. Besides, I’ve already told him all about the loving, steadfast man I will marry. If nothing else, that should dissuade him from pursuing me.”

  “What call did ye have to speak of marriage with him?”

  Moving to her bed, Anabelle sat on it and reached down for her sturdy black boots.

  “I’ll do that for ye.” Dolly knelt on the floor beside her and lifted Anabelle’s booted foot onto her beefy lap in order to tighten the laces. “Out with it girl. What call did ye have to speak of marriage?”

  Anabelle laughed as she perched her other foot on Dolly’s lap. “So that’s what has you so dutifully attending to your duties. You hope to pry a juicy tidbit.”

  Dolly cast her an impatient glance. “Well?”

  “He asked.”

  The old woman gasped. “He asked ye to marry him?”

  “Of course not. He only asked what I wanted in a husband and was most displeased by my response. I’m sure he hopes to toss me into the Marriage Mart and hand me off to some unsuspecting dolt as soon as possible. Once married, I would not only become my husband’s responsibility, but would be expected to reside at my husband’s estate, as well.”

  That brought a frown to Dolly’s face. “Dreadful man! I didn’t think him so heartless as to toss off his responsibilities by marrying you to another. But what other explanation can there be?”

  “None.” She swung her feet off Dolly’s lap, helped the stout woman up, and gleefully twirled her around. “But I don’t care. He won’t be so easily rid of me. If he tries to marry me off, he’ll soon regret it. I have a plan or two that will confound him.”

  “Hold, girl.” She placed a beefy arm around Anabelle’s waist to still her. “Though he be our master now, you can count on the whole staff to help ye out. We won’t permit him to foist ye off on anyone ye don’t have a mind to marry.”

  Anabelle gave her a quick hug. “You are a dear, but I wouldn’t dream of getting you into trouble. No, I’ll work things out my own way.”

  “Och, the Anabelle way, as your brother calls it. Very well, it shall be as ye wish, missie. But don’t forget, we’ll be there for ye should ye need us.” That said, Dolly prodded her out of the room and down the stairs into the parlor. “Ye can have yer spot o’ tea as soon as his high and mightiness arrives.”

  “I’ll have it now, but bring an extra cup for His Grace. He’ll be in need of a warm drink to ward off the chill.”

  “Seems to me the master will be warmed by the sight of you,” Dolly muttered within her hearing.

  “You’re wrong. He doesn’t like me.”

  “He does, but not in any gentlemanly way.” Dolly lumbered off to fetch the tea.

  A moment later, the duke’s carriage could be heard clattering up the cobblestones at the front entry.

  *

  “Good morning, Your Grace. I trust you spent a pleasant evening with Lord and Lady Chalmers.” Anabelle rose from her seat in the parlor and stepped forward to greet Saron, her gaze intent on his eyes.

  There was a brooding smolder about them, but they weren’t dark or soulless.

  Had she imagined him standing in the garden amid her bluebells?

  He threw off his coat and hat, handing them to a passing servant as he stalked past her into the room. “Damn it, girl. I’ve asked you to call me Saron.”

  She raised an eyebrow, noting his fashionable attire. Silk cravat and fine linens, and not a trace of black leather other than his knee-high boots. “Very well. Good morning, Saron. I trust you–”

  “You’ll be overjoyed to learn that my evening was a supreme disaster.”

  “It was?” Why hadn’t Dolly told her? Surely the gossip had reached the Harleigh servants by now. And Dolly always told her everything the moment she heard it. “What happened?”

  “When Lord Sissingham, his wife, and his two daughters heard I was to spend the week with Lord Chalmers, they decided to do the same.”

  He sounded pained. She couldn’t help but smile. This was better revenge than she could ever have planned. The Sissingham girls were insufferable ninnies, capable of irritating even the most patient of men. They must have driven Saron insane. “You exaggerate. I’m sure the evening was delightful. I’ve met his charming daughters on several occasions.”

  “Blast it, Anabelle. Wipe that gleeful look off your face.”

  “What gleeful look?” She bit the inside of her cheek to stem her laughter, but it had little effect.

  He glowered at her, but his eyes remained that same ensorcelling blue and his gaze felt like a warm caress even though she knew that he didn’t like her. “Those yammering magpies Sissingham calls daughters chattered at me all evening long, pausing not even once to catch their breaths. I was trapped, forced to endure an unrelenting barrage of drivel, but they were nothing compared to their mother.”

  “What did she do?” She couldn’t wait to hear.

  “That daunting lady managed to speak and eat at the same time without losing so much as a crumb. It was repulsive to watch.”

  Anabelle’s eyes widened. “Not one crumb lost. That is amazing.”

  “Blast you, Anabelle. You’re enjoying my discomfort.”

  “No. I’m devastated for you. Please go on.”

  Surprisingly, he did. More surprising, his temper seemed to abate, as though he realized the humor of his tortuous evening and accepted her desire to tease him. “While speaking,” he said, almost cracking a smile, “she swallowed an entire tipsy cake, then sucked down a platter of crumpets and I vow she didn’t take a gulp of air in all that time.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed the spectacle.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t the spectacle. Her husband was.”

  “Lord Sissingham?” She leaned eagerly toward him, deriving great satisfaction from his apparent agony. “Pray tell, what did he do?” She couldn’t imagine. The man was a gentle dimwit who rarely brought attention to himself.

  “He removed his shoes and fell asleep in a chair beside the fire.”

  “That doesn’t seem unusual.”

  Saron’s jaw began to twitch. “He awoke when his toes caught fire.”

  Anabelle burst into laughter. “I vow you’re making this up as you go along!”

  “I’m not. Every word of it is true.” He smiled warmly.

  She felt her insides melt. Good heavens! He had a devastating smile. And a lovely laugh, she realized when he joined her in a chuckle. If only he weren’t her enemy. She might like this strong, severe man. She dismissed the thought the moment it entered her mind. No! Never! He was a brute and she would be wise never to forget it.

  “Before I went to bed last night, I wrote to my Aunt Penelope.”

  “I have a lovely milk cow named Penelope. She’s a sweet, little thing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I begged her to drop whatever she was doing and hurry to Harleigh Hall. I’ll move in here as soon as she arrives.”

  The last of Anabelle’s good humor died. “You and I living under one roof? With your sordid reputation? I won’t allow it.”

  “You have no say in the matter.” His eyes darkened, turning to that forbidding mix of stormy gray and deep, timeless blue. Despite his obvious anger, there was nothing hollow or dark about his gaze. He couldn’t have been the man in the garden, no matter the remarkable resemblance. Had the man existed at all? And what of the dragon-like swirl of clouds just before she thought she’d seen him? “I’ve j
ust passed an intolerable evening in the company of the Sissinghams and am not about to make a habit of it. I’ll move in here as soon as my aunt arrives to lend propriety to our sharing the same roof. And I do not have a sordid reputation.”

  She cast him an accusatory look. “You have a horrid reputation. You’re mean and ill-tempered, you frighten everyone, and you seduce all the ladies.”

  “That makes no sense. If the ladies were so frightened of me they wouldn’t fall eagerly into my arms.”

  “Aha! Then you admit to being a vile seducer.”

  “I do not defile innocent young ladies. My romantic entanglements are with willing partners and I’m discreet about it.” He held up a hand when she continued to protest. “I’m moving in here as soon as my aunt arrives and that’s that. If you don’t like it, you may spend the week with Lord Chalmers.”

  She held back her retort. In truth, he would have moved in last night had he no care for her reputation. And she wasn’t about to spend a night with the Sissinghams. She would leave that pleasure to him. Lord, those girls could talk the hind legs off a donkey! “I’ll have Dolly prepare a chamber for your aunt. Does she enjoy the morning sun?”

  He nodded.

  “Then she may have the east bedroom. It’s quite lovely.”

  “Thank you, Anabelle.”

  He spoke with such relief, it made her smile. She didn’t want him to think he’d won the battle. “You may regret my kindness. I’m determined to make your life miserable until I get my way. When I’m through with you–”

  “Hush,” he said, his expression somber as he tucked a finger under her chin and tipped her head upward so that their gazes met.

  She sobered as well and waited for him to speak. “Yes?”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You can do nothing to me that would scare me as much as spending another evening with Lady Sissingham. I narrowly missed being sucked down her windpipe when I accidentally got between her and the tipsy cake.”

  She laughed warmly, caught up by the appealing mirth reflected in his eyes. “Now I’m certain you are making it all up.”