“It can only be around eight,” Serena guessed, “but the gardeners will be abroad soon. You should go.”
“The gardeners are mostly used to me.”
She regarded him. “You are quite…insidious, aren’t you?”
“You make me sound like a plague.”
“I’m not perfectly sure you aren’t. This castle was in perfect order when I left in the spring, and within a few months, it’s become rife with smugglers and artists and I don’t know who else. Bailiffs, probably, looking for you!”
“Don’t say that,” he begged.
“Are they still after you?” she asked with more sympathy.
“He sat on my doorstep all day yesterday, but I crept in when he left, and out before he came back.”
“Is that why you’re here so early?”
He smiled into her eyes, depriving her of breath. “No, that’s because I wanted to see you.”
“Stop that,” she said severely. “And go and paint your worthy portrait. Goodbye!”
Before he could have any chance of repeating his outrageous behavior of yesterday, she hurried down the path toward the bottom door. He didn’t follow.
However, her triumph was short-lived, quickly drowned in relentless disappointment. Truly, she would have liked him to kiss her again, whatever resolutions she’d given herself away from his company. And she should, in all decency, have thanked him for his support against the armed smuggler, for she was sure it was his presence that had scared the villain away. As well as being curiously necessary to her at the time.
She paused and turned back. He still stood where she’d left him, the familiar satchel over one shoulder, the stick still by his side. She lifted her hand in a wave and smiled with relief when he waved back.
With gladness now, she began to run down the rest of the hill, just as the bottom door opened and a large man walked in.
She skidded to a halt.
“Morning, m’lady.”
It spoke volumes for her earlier fright that it took her so long to recognize an old childhood friend.
“Why, Jem! How are you?”
“Very well, m’lady. Good to see you home.”
“It’s good to be home,” she assured him, and it was true, despite her annoying confinement. “How is your mother?”
“Keeping busy. She asked to be remembered to you, should I happen upon you.”
“I’ll call on her,” Serena promised.
He smiled and raised his rake in salute. “She’d like that.”
Jem, whom she’d once beaten at tag, had grown into a big, strapping young man. “Jem?” she called after him. “When you’ve finished here, could you help me with something else?”
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Other Books by Mary Lancaster
VIENNA WALTZ (The Imperial Season, Book 1)
VIENNA WOODS (The Imperial Season, Book 2)
VIENNA DAWN (The Imperial Season, Book 3)
THE WICKED BARON (Blackhaven Brides, Book 1)
THE WICKED LADY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 2)
THE WICKED REBEL (Blackhaven Brides, Book 3)
THE WICKED HUSBAND (Blackhaven Brides, Book 4)
THE WICKED MARQUIS (Blackhaven Brides, Book 5)
REBEL OF ROSS
A PRINCE TO BE FEARED: the love story of Vlad Dracula
AN ENDLESS EXILE
A WORLD TO WIN
About Mary Lancaster
Mary Lancaster’s first love was historical fiction. Her other passions include coffee, chocolate, red wine and black and white films – simultaneously where possible. She hates housework.
As a direct consequence of the first love, she studied history at St. Andrews University. She now writes full time at her seaside home in Scotland, which she shares with her husband, three children and a small, crazy dog.
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