Garden of Shadows (Dark Gardens Series Book 1)

by Meara Platt

  He began to work the little butterfly pins from her hair. He’d noticed them earlier and thought them quite charming, but he dared not tell her so. Working swiftly, he removed the last of the pins to release the chignon at the nape of her slender, thankfully undamaged, neck. Instantly, abundant gold curls cascaded over her shoulders.

  “Mmm, so much better. Oh, oh! Aah.”

  That little moan… in other circumstances would have… but, no. This was Julia. He cleared his suddenly parched throat and knelt beside her to take hold of her hand. “You need to rest, but you mustn’t fall asleep tonight. That lump on your head is quite large. It is dangerous until it subsides.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll help you to your bedchamber when you’re feeling a little stronger. You’ll need someone by your bedside tonight. I’ll stay with you, in a chair, of course.”

  Charlie let out a plaintive cry. “But I want to watch over Julia, too!”

  “You will, Charlie. Tomorrow. We’ll take turns. I’ll take first duty this evening, then you and Homer will relieve me in the morning.”

  Charlie pursed his lips. “I suppose.”

  “I know you’re worried about Julia. I won’t take her upstairs straight away. We can all watch her this most important first hour.”

  Julia managed a nod and muttered something about it sounding like a sensible compromise. Douglas was surprised. He’d expected a protest from her, some priggish nonsense about the scandalous consequences of having a gentleman in her room overnight, but she didn’t utter a word of complaint. Instead, she seemed eager for a moment alone with him. The look she cast him wasn’t an I want you in my bed look, but an I’m frightened, something strange is going on look.

  He wished to speak to her, too. He needed to question her thoroughly outside of the boy’s presence, needed to be sure that her accident had been just that, an accident and nothing more sinister. “Don’t fall asleep, Julia.”

  “I’ll try not to, but my head aches terribly. I find it hard to keep my eyes open.” She fluttered her long, dark lashes over those exquisite violet eyes.

  He forced himself to turn away, eager for any excuse to take his mind off her, and saw some of Charlie’s recent drawings spread upon his nightstand. He began to shuffle them in order to set them aside, but the series of sketches caught his eye and quite stole his breath away. Merciful heavens! Charlie had drawn him and Julia wrapped in a passionate and shockingly sensual embrace. Every one of these pictures, progressively more shocking, the last depicting her naked and he—

  And yet they were striking. There was an unearthly feel to these portraits, a faerie quality about Julia, in the alabaster pallor of her skin and the way the light shimmered on her hair. The sensual curves of her slender body were illuminated by firelight. He was depicted atop her, his muscles taut and his expression that of a man sexually aroused, hungry and raw as he sought to claim her.

  He ought to have ripped them up or tossed them into the fire, but he couldn’t. There was acceptance and relief in Julia’s expression, but he knew it could not be so. Why had Charlie depicted her that way? How could he have known about carnal heat and arousal? He was a mere boy. Julia, he was certain, had never known a man’s touch or she would have offered her body to him to gain his favor instead of threatening to shoot him.

  He slipped the drawings into the bureau and turned away, feeling quite shaken and needing to make busy work for himself. He dimmed the lamp atop the nightstand, but that didn’t take long and he was forced to look at her again. Well, not exactly forced, he simply couldn’t draw his gaze away, for those sketches seemed to have unleashed powerful sensations within him that would not be subdued.

  Julia winced and shifted once more, trying to find a comfortable position. “Here,” he said, suppressing the urge to simply wrap her in his arms. “Let me help you.”

  Douglas scanned the room and noticed a few decorative pillows scattered on a bench beneath the window. He retrieved them, nudged the pillows behind her back, and was about to tuck Charlie’s blanket more securely around her body again when she moaned – definitely in pain – and turned ashen. “I don’t feel so well.”

  Nausea was a common aftereffect of a blow to the head, Douglas knew. The slightest movement could set it off, though there was nothing slight about her injury. Indeed, she might have died had it not been for the linens piled at the edge of the table to soften the impact. The realization went a long way toward cooling his ardor.

  “She’s shivering, Uncle Douglas.”

  “I see that. Charlie, are there any more blankets?” What he felt most was concern and more than a little fear that she might not recover from her injury. No! He wouldn’t allow harm to befall her.

  “We gave the only others to you and Mr. Barrow.”

  “I’ll fetch mine.” But first, he placed Charlie’s wash basin in reach of Julia on the chance the nausea got the better of her. “Watch her, Charlie. I won’t be but a moment.”

  He raced upstairs and returned in short order with the coverlet from his bed. “There, that ought to help.” He carefully wrapped it about her fragile body. Oh, she was so pale!

  Homer entered carrying his blanket as well. “Can’t hurt to add mine.”

  Douglas took it from him with a grateful nod.

  However, nothing seemed to help. “She’s still shivering,” Charlie said as the time dragged and she did not improve.

  “I’ll fetch more wood for the fire,” Homer offered. “Here, lad. Let me set ye by the hearth. Keep the fire stoked until I return. That’ll be your responsibility. Can ye manage it?”

  “Yes, I’m sure I can.”

  Douglas settled beside Julia, taking her icy hands into his warm ones and rubbing them lightly to remove the chill.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “The human touch warms better than any blanket.”

  “Indeed, soldiers often huddle together to survive the frigid winter nights. It’s a trick that works. I can vouch for it from personal experience. Though the men under my command never smelled quite as sweet as you, nor felt quite as soft.”

  She managed a weak smile and motioned him closer. “My lord, I feel as cold as one of your poor soldiers caught on a frozen field of battle. Please hold on to me. It’s so odd, but I feel a tugging at my soul, as though I’ll die if you let go.”

  He regarded her with deep concern. She’d taken a vicious spill and was clearly suffering. But her words, that tugging at her soul, worried him. He’d heard similar fears spoken by the gravely wounded boys under his command, those whom the Angel of Death had claimed soon afterward. “I’ll hold you tight. I promise.”

  He shifted her into his arms, shielding her as though his arms were a fortress of granite. Damn, he wouldn’t let her go without a fight. “Rest your head on my shoulder, Julia. Can you do that?”

  She let out a soft sigh. “Yes. This soldier’s trick of yours is an excellent idea.”

  He stifled a groan. The girl fit so perfectly against his body. He hadn’t expected that, nor had he expected his body’s response to her perfect breasts lightly rising and falling against his chest.

  She was cold, he thought ruefully, and he was in danger of generating enough heat to set the entire vicarage ablaze.

  Charlie must have sensed his powerful attraction to Julia, but how? The boy was too young and innocent to understand about sex and male urges.

  “Will you please take me upstairs now,” Julia whispered some time later, her lips tickling his neck as she spoke, igniting another fire within him. “I’m feeling much better.”

  He muttered something encouraging, he wasn’t certain what. His soft growl in response had less to do with her physical injury and more to do with his physical delight. Truly, he was depraved. Julia lay injured, as helpless as a wounded dove, and all he could think of was rolling her onto her back and…

  He refused to finish the thought.

  Or admit that he was as taut as a crossbow about to spring its arrow.
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br />   “Will you?” she repeated, shifting in his arms and gracing him with a smile that stole his breath away. Two thoughts raced through his mind in that instant. The first, that she did look much better than she had looked earlier, which gave him great relief. The second, that she looked incredibly beautiful, and that gave him no relief.

  “Of course.” Douglas glanced across the room toward Charlie who was now sleeping in Homer’s arms. His anguish over Julia’s injury had obviously sapped his strength. Poor lad. As Julia had settled comfortably in his arms, so Charlie had settled onto Homer’s beefy lap and silently cried himself to sleep.

  His heart went out to the boy. But why did Charlie blame himself for Julia’s injury? And what was this nonsense about King Cadeyrn playing a cruel joke on her? And was there any connection to those drawings he’d noticed on the boy’s nightstand that still occupied his thoughts?

  He left instruction with Homer that the boy could see Julia any time he wished. Homer would take him up to Julia’s quarters if the need arose to calm his youthful concerns.

  After assuring himself that Charlie was all right, he carried Julia upstairs to her small, simple bed that was graced with a plain white coverlet. The few pieces of furniture situated about her room were also quite simple except for the delicate lace curtains that framed the windows.

  The room was a reflection of Julia, practical yet feminine.

  He found it quite charming.

  He tucked the coverlet about her, then brought a chair to the side of her bed and settled in it. “Let’s have a look at that lump.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Careful, it hurts. Oh, I must look hideous.”

  “You look fine.” Her cheeks now held a beautiful peach glow and there was a ruby lushness to her lips. He leaned close, fighting the urge to kiss her.

  Was this more of the Fae king’s mischief?

  Or his own lust?

  “You’re no longer green about the gills,” he said.

  Julia nodded. “I think the worst of it has passed.”

  “And the swelling on your forehead seems to have subsided a little. That’s a very good sign.”

  She let out a small, pained laugh. “I can still feel the goose egg sprouting from my brow. But I’m no longer seeing double. There is just one of you, isn’t there?”

  He grinned. “I think so, though I’ve put on a bit of weight because of your excellent cooking. Julia, you wished to speak to me.”

  “Yes, about my fall. I heard your conversation with Charlie and tried to speak earlier, but couldn’t seem to form the words. They jammed in my brain and nothing would come out. It was a frightening experience.”

  “You gave us all a good scare.”

  “I know, but I feel much better now.”

  Still, he had no intention of leaving her bedside tonight. She was not as strong as she believed.

  “About Charlie and King Cadeyrn,” she continued after a moment’s hesitation, as though uncertain how to proceed.

  He offered a start to the conversation. “The boy believes the Fae king had something to do with your tumble.”

  “But we know it cannot be so. Faerie creatures do not exist. A sudden gust of wind must have blown through the kitchen and knocked me off balance. My weight shifted and caused the chair to slip. It must be so. Yet…”

  There was a question in her eyes, as though she needed confirmation that Cadeyrn lived only in Charlie’s imagination. “He isn’t real,” Douglas assured.

  She let out a sigh. “Then you haven’t actually seen him or heard him?”

  “Of course not.” He was unwilling to admit that the golden shapes he’d seen that first night were anything more than tricks of fading sunlight.

  “Because I saw how attentive you were in the garden the other day, talking into the bluebells.”

  “I was merely playing along with Charlie.”

  “And that kiss we shared.”

  He groaned. “I know. I can’t explain what came over me, or what I thought I saw and felt. It must have been a combination of travel fatigue, anticipation in meeting Charlie, and that wine I drank while waiting for you to finish tucking Charlie into bed.”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t set out any wine for you, yet you tasted of it when our lips came together. Then neither of us could find the bottle. I believed you had hidden it.”

  “And I believed you had.”

  “Logically, one of us must be lying. I know it wasn’t me and I no longer believe it was you. Where does that leave us?”

  “With an inconsequential mystery. I’m certain there’s a simple explanation that we’ve overlooked.”

  “I don’t think any of it is inconsequential. Charlie has never been like this before, so caught up with those mythical creatures that he thinks of nothing but them, draws nothing but them. After today’s incident, I’m beginning to believe…”

  “What, Julia?”

  “Oh, I’m just letting superstition get the better of me.”

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “That gust of cold air, just before I fell, it felt like hands grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me to the ground. For one mad moment, I thought I heard a raven’s shrill caw, then King Cadeyrn’s laughter, but it must have been the wind.”

  “I’m sure that’s all it was, just as I’m sure Charlie will forget all about the faerie king and his court once we reach Eastbourne.”

  “I hope so. But you must promise me one thing.”

  He nodded. “If it is in my power.”

  “When we reach Eastbourne, don’t plant bluebells outside Charlie’s window.”

  Chapter 8

  “Are you awake, my lord?” Julia asked Lord Eastbourne a short while later. Moonlight filtered in through her bedroom window and cast odd, silvery shadows in the night. Disturbing shadows. A grandfather clock in the distant hallway chimed the midnight hour, and the lonely flame of a single candle flickered on the small table beside her bed.

  She watched the shadows play on Lord Eastbourne’s dimly outlined face and was calmed by his presence and soft, even breaths. He sat with legs outstretched and hands clasped behind his head. His chair creaked as he shifted his big body. “Yes, I’m awake.”

  He sounded worried.

  Of course, why wouldn’t he be? She had almost been killed tonight and his recently discovered nephew was ranting about faeries and how much fun it would be to fly off bell towers. Her brilliant solution was to beg him not to plant bluebells around the Eastbourne estate.

  “How do you feel? Any better?” he asked, his chair creaking again as he rose to stretch his stiff muscles. The white lawn of his shirt glinted in the moon’s glow, outlining his sculpted body. He groaned and arched his back.

  He had a magnificent body, lacking only sword and hauberk to resemble a knight from one of the old adventure tales she used to read. Julia sighed. Why were these thoughts swirling in her head?

  “Yes, feeling much better,” she replied, forcing a smile to her lips.

  “Good.” He picked up the chair and moved it close to her bed, pausing a moment to study her before settling back into his seat. Then, he shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about what Charlie said earlier, trying to make sense of his words.”

  “About our leaving here?”

  He nodded. “Charlie said King Cadeyrn was angry about my taking you away from here.”

  She let out a soft sigh. “I thought we’d agreed that he doesn’t exist.”

  “Yes, logically he doesn’t. But assume for the moment that he does. Tonight, he wanted to keep you here, not Charlie.”

  She let out a laugh, then winced as a stab of pain shot to her head. The pitiful truth was that no one wanted her. Oh, perhaps Charlie needed her, but even his need would fade as his attachment to Lord Eastbourne grew. “My lord, I hardly think the faerie king cares about me or where I go. It is a ridiculous notion.”

  “Not so ridiculous,” he said, reaching forward to trace a finger along her jaw. The seduc
tive huskiness of his voice, the gentleness of his touch, sent Julia’s senses reeling. She yearned to touch him back, explore his finely formed lips and hard body.

  Goodness!

  She hastened to dismiss these wayward thoughts.

  “Indulge me a moment, Julia,” Lord Eastbourne continued, unaware of the sweet tingles playing havoc with her body. “Charlie knew that I meant to take him back to Eastbourne. Indeed, he knew it before we’d said a word to him.” A light frown crossed his brow. “That’s another matter for concern, but let’s set it aside for now.”

  He leaned closer still, allowing Julia to inhale his masculine scent, that pleasant hint of pine and sandalwood that stirred her blood and sent more tingles shooting up her body. She’d never responded to a man in this fashion, but had to admit she liked the warm sensation.

  Was it caused by the egg-sized lump on her forehead?

  Lord Eastbourne cleared his throat. “All was well until I mentioned that you would return with us. Charlie’s smile suddenly faded and he became agitated.”

  She pursed her lips, and after a moment, emitted a short laugh that sounded shrill to her own ears. “King Cadeyrn doesn’t want me. Why would he? He tried to hurt me, isn’t that what Charlie feared? And I am hurt. Why would the king do that if he wanted me?”

  “He might not have known how else to keep you here.”

  “If one follows your reasoning, it is likely he meant to keep Charlie here and used my injury to delay his departure. He’d never hurt the boy, of course.”

  Lord Eastbourne frowned again. “What makes you believe he wouldn’t hurt Charlie?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose because he hasn’t yet.”

  “Hasn’t he?”

  She struggled to sit up. “What are you suggesting?”

  “The boy is ill. His steps are painful and every breath he takes is a life and death struggle.”

  Julia opened her mouth to refute him, then snapped it shut. Is it possible? No, no! She and Lord Eastbourne were getting too caught up in this nonsense.

  “My lord,” she whispered, staring into the emerald shadows of his dark eyes. “You do realize we’re blaming Charlie’s illness and my accident on a faerie who lives in a bluebell garden.”