a southern Georgia, ocean-side garden.
Prayer.
Picnics.
Parties.
Politics.
She imagined the path of a pearly moon through the magnolias. A wisteria vine under which lovers might sit, holding hands, entwining their hearts.
She breathed in the scent of pine, palmetto, baked grass, sea salt. And the fresh scent of Nate’s skin.
She glanced around to find him practically falling out of his seat to see her design.
“I’m just sketching …” She turned away.
“I’m just looking.”
“Nathaniel, you’ve a call,” Jonathan said from the kitchen door.
“Who is it?”
“Your father.”
“Excuse me, Suz.” Nate brushed his fingers over her hair as he left the porch.
“O–okay.” His touch had produced chills on her hot skin. He had to stop touching her. Awakening something deep in her soul.
She tried to focus on the dry weeds and barren beds. But her heart yanked her thoughts back to his touch.
Rebound. This is just rebound. A man gives you a bit of attention, and you’re ready to hand over your heart …
Back to the garden. What it needed was freedom. Space. Asubtle beauty. When she finished the sketch, she scripted a garden name across the top.
A King’s Garden
.
It helped her visualize the end design. Susanna wasn’t sure Nate would find any connection to such a lofty-sounding name, but she did. Already “A King’s Garden” took up a brilliant residence in her mind.
NINE
Y ou fancy her,” Jonathan said as he cleared the cups and cakes from Wednesday afternoon tea.
“That’s out of the blue but if you’re talking about Susanna, yes, I like her,” Nathaniel said. “As a friend.” Far be it from him to confess he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she left this morning with her sketch pad, excitement in her eyes.
Her design struck him. She’d sketched a near perfect replica of Dad’s old garden, the one Nathaniel loved so much. It was as if she read life and color in the garden’s fading shadows.
Simple. Spacious. But edged with blooming life.
“Friend? Nathaniel, I’ve not seen that look in your eye since Adel Gardner kissed you during the university autumn bash.”
“Adel? Really? Jon, you’ve got to move on. University is over. Ten years over.”
“Me move on? Who here has not fallen in love since our fourth year?” Jonathan’s glare accented his sarcastic tone.
“At least I’m not like you. Falling in love every spring and out every fall. You’re none the better for it, I’d say.”
“At least I try.”
“You don’t have a big fat crown on your head either.” Everyonce in a while, Nathaniel felt justified to pull the crown prince card.
Jon laughed over the clatter of the dishes as he headed to the kitchen door. “True, I’ll grant you, and I gather it’s why you’ve not told your new friend that Nate Kenneth is really Prince Nathaniel Henry Kenneth Mark Stratton, future king of Brighton.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
“Perhaps
you
need to be reminded then. You fancy her. I see it in your eyes.”
“I know who I am and the boundaries I have.” How could he forget? Jonathan, Mum, Dad, the entire Brighton Parliament wouldn’t let him forget. “Let Liam know I’ll need the motorcar tonight, please.”
“Where are you going? And wherever it is, Liam is tagging along.”
“I can’t have my security officer in tow when I pull a shift at the Rib Shack.”
“Again?” Jon came around the kitchen island. “Whatever for?”
“Her mum put me on the schedule. They’ve been needing extra hands since her father has been in the hospital.”
“Nathaniel, you’re the crown prince. You don’t need to wait tables at an American barbecue bistro.”
“I’m not waiting tables.” Nathaniel started for the stairs. “I’m scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets.”
Jon swore blue. “The King’s Office will have my job if they get wind of this.”
“It’s not your choice.” Nathaniel stripped off his shirt as he made his
Prayer.
Picnics.
Parties.
Politics.
She imagined the path of a pearly moon through the magnolias. A wisteria vine under which lovers might sit, holding hands, entwining their hearts.
She breathed in the scent of pine, palmetto, baked grass, sea salt. And the fresh scent of Nate’s skin.
She glanced around to find him practically falling out of his seat to see her design.
“I’m just sketching …” She turned away.
“I’m just looking.”
“Nathaniel, you’ve a call,” Jonathan said from the kitchen door.
“Who is it?”
“Your father.”
“Excuse me, Suz.” Nate brushed his fingers over her hair as he left the porch.
“O–okay.” His touch had produced chills on her hot skin. He had to stop touching her. Awakening something deep in her soul.
She tried to focus on the dry weeds and barren beds. But her heart yanked her thoughts back to his touch.
Rebound. This is just rebound. A man gives you a bit of attention, and you’re ready to hand over your heart …
Back to the garden. What it needed was freedom. Space. Asubtle beauty. When she finished the sketch, she scripted a garden name across the top.
A King’s Garden
.
It helped her visualize the end design. Susanna wasn’t sure Nate would find any connection to such a lofty-sounding name, but she did. Already “A King’s Garden” took up a brilliant residence in her mind.
NINE
Y ou fancy her,” Jonathan said as he cleared the cups and cakes from Wednesday afternoon tea.
“That’s out of the blue but if you’re talking about Susanna, yes, I like her,” Nathaniel said. “As a friend.” Far be it from him to confess he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she left this morning with her sketch pad, excitement in her eyes.
Her design struck him. She’d sketched a near perfect replica of Dad’s old garden, the one Nathaniel loved so much. It was as if she read life and color in the garden’s fading shadows.
Simple. Spacious. But edged with blooming life.
“Friend? Nathaniel, I’ve not seen that look in your eye since Adel Gardner kissed you during the university autumn bash.”
“Adel? Really? Jon, you’ve got to move on. University is over. Ten years over.”
“Me move on? Who here has not fallen in love since our fourth year?” Jonathan’s glare accented his sarcastic tone.
“At least I’m not like you. Falling in love every spring and out every fall. You’re none the better for it, I’d say.”
“At least I try.”
“You don’t have a big fat crown on your head either.” Everyonce in a while, Nathaniel felt justified to pull the crown prince card.
Jon laughed over the clatter of the dishes as he headed to the kitchen door. “True, I’ll grant you, and I gather it’s why you’ve not told your new friend that Nate Kenneth is really Prince Nathaniel Henry Kenneth Mark Stratton, future king of Brighton.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
“Perhaps
you
need to be reminded then. You fancy her. I see it in your eyes.”
“I know who I am and the boundaries I have.” How could he forget? Jonathan, Mum, Dad, the entire Brighton Parliament wouldn’t let him forget. “Let Liam know I’ll need the motorcar tonight, please.”
“Where are you going? And wherever it is, Liam is tagging along.”
“I can’t have my security officer in tow when I pull a shift at the Rib Shack.”
“Again?” Jon came around the kitchen island. “Whatever for?”
“Her mum put me on the schedule. They’ve been needing extra hands since her father has been in the hospital.”
“Nathaniel, you’re the crown prince. You don’t need to wait tables at an American barbecue bistro.”
“I’m not waiting tables.” Nathaniel started for the stairs. “I’m scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets.”
Jon swore blue. “The King’s Office will have my job if they get wind of this.”
“It’s not your choice.” Nathaniel stripped off his shirt as he made his
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