“Then I’ll pounce, of course. Because that’s what I do.” She started to walk the path again, away from him, since she didn’t have any luck in remaining aloof.
“I suspected as much.” Harrison had been rubbing his horse absently, but now he took it by the reins and guided it behind him as he fell in step with her. “I’ve got to tell you, though, our head gardener has been with the estate for more than thirty years and is approaching seventy. He might not be up for any pouncing. There are plenty of younger ones who wouldn’t complain.”
The sexual innuendo was obvious in his tone, but his taunt didn’t seem nasty. Marietta didn’t bristle as much as she would have two days ago. “Well, that’s good to know. Of course, I occasionally lurk around stablemen.”
“We have plenty of them to choose from. As well as footmen, a few handymen, and two chauffeurs. Plus, a rather volatile French chef who once hit on the wife of the prime minister of Belgium.”
“Seriously? And he still works here?”
“Gordon took care of it. We didn’t tell my uncle.”
“Would he have fired him?”
“Undoubtedly. My uncle doesn’t tolerate impropriety of any kind among his staff.”
“Just his staff?” Marietta asked, noticing that Harrison’s gaze, which had seemed teasing, turned sober.
“Or his family.”
She didn’t reply. The only sound in the quiet morning was the clipping of the horse’s hooves and the birds chirping in the distance. “He holds you to high standards.”
Harrison glanced at her. “I’ve always been able to meet them.”
“But it must be difficult. Does he know we…we…in Monte Carlo?” She flushed, not because she was afraid to talk about sex but because it brought up unsettling memories.
“He hasn’t mentioned it, but he’s not a stupid man.”
“And he doesn’t think that’s improper?”
Harrison stopped walking and regarded her. “I assume he knows I occasionally have sex. Or did you think I live like a monk out of respect for my uncle’s sense of decorum?”
Her mouth wobbled at his sarcasm. “That might be taking family loyalty too far.”
“I should say so.”
She smothered a giggle.
His eyes softened, and her breath hitched at the expression. She’d thought he might kiss her last night, and now again—
He cleared his throat and resumed walking.
She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though she knew how irrational it was. She should still be angry with him, but she wasn’t. Not much, anyway.
He didn’t appear so angry with her, either.
“There’s a secret garden on the estate. Have you found it yet?”
“No,” she said, perking up at the question. “Where is it?”
He gestured toward the wooded park. “I’ll show you.”
They walked in silence until he asked, “How are you feeling?”
Her lips parted in surprise. She was feeling a lot of things, but none she was willing to share with Harrison.
“After yesterday, I mean. The riding.”
“I’m fine. A little sore. That’s why I was taking the walk, actually. Oh, is that a wall to the garden?”
He nodded. “It’s mostly hidden by the trees. The door’s on the other side.”
“Locked with a key?”
“Of course.”
They strolled the length of the wall until something on the opposite side of the path caught her eye. “Oh, look at that arbor!”
Like the most charming features of the Damon gardens, the arbor was positioned unexpectedly, to be stumbled upon without warning. Climbing flowers and vines wound through the intricately carved trellis, with colorful blooms and green leaves spilling over the sculpted bench beneath it. Marietta had the silly urge to run over and sit on the bench.
Instead, she hurried over to examine it more closely. “I have a little arbor in my garden at home, although it’s not as pretty as this.” She raised her hand idly to stroke one of the blooms and realized with a thud of her heart they were sweet peas.
Her hand trembled on the
“I suspected as much.” Harrison had been rubbing his horse absently, but now he took it by the reins and guided it behind him as he fell in step with her. “I’ve got to tell you, though, our head gardener has been with the estate for more than thirty years and is approaching seventy. He might not be up for any pouncing. There are plenty of younger ones who wouldn’t complain.”
The sexual innuendo was obvious in his tone, but his taunt didn’t seem nasty. Marietta didn’t bristle as much as she would have two days ago. “Well, that’s good to know. Of course, I occasionally lurk around stablemen.”
“We have plenty of them to choose from. As well as footmen, a few handymen, and two chauffeurs. Plus, a rather volatile French chef who once hit on the wife of the prime minister of Belgium.”
“Seriously? And he still works here?”
“Gordon took care of it. We didn’t tell my uncle.”
“Would he have fired him?”
“Undoubtedly. My uncle doesn’t tolerate impropriety of any kind among his staff.”
“Just his staff?” Marietta asked, noticing that Harrison’s gaze, which had seemed teasing, turned sober.
“Or his family.”
She didn’t reply. The only sound in the quiet morning was the clipping of the horse’s hooves and the birds chirping in the distance. “He holds you to high standards.”
Harrison glanced at her. “I’ve always been able to meet them.”
“But it must be difficult. Does he know we…we…in Monte Carlo?” She flushed, not because she was afraid to talk about sex but because it brought up unsettling memories.
“He hasn’t mentioned it, but he’s not a stupid man.”
“And he doesn’t think that’s improper?”
Harrison stopped walking and regarded her. “I assume he knows I occasionally have sex. Or did you think I live like a monk out of respect for my uncle’s sense of decorum?”
Her mouth wobbled at his sarcasm. “That might be taking family loyalty too far.”
“I should say so.”
She smothered a giggle.
His eyes softened, and her breath hitched at the expression. She’d thought he might kiss her last night, and now again—
He cleared his throat and resumed walking.
She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though she knew how irrational it was. She should still be angry with him, but she wasn’t. Not much, anyway.
He didn’t appear so angry with her, either.
“There’s a secret garden on the estate. Have you found it yet?”
“No,” she said, perking up at the question. “Where is it?”
He gestured toward the wooded park. “I’ll show you.”
They walked in silence until he asked, “How are you feeling?”
Her lips parted in surprise. She was feeling a lot of things, but none she was willing to share with Harrison.
“After yesterday, I mean. The riding.”
“I’m fine. A little sore. That’s why I was taking the walk, actually. Oh, is that a wall to the garden?”
He nodded. “It’s mostly hidden by the trees. The door’s on the other side.”
“Locked with a key?”
“Of course.”
They strolled the length of the wall until something on the opposite side of the path caught her eye. “Oh, look at that arbor!”
Like the most charming features of the Damon gardens, the arbor was positioned unexpectedly, to be stumbled upon without warning. Climbing flowers and vines wound through the intricately carved trellis, with colorful blooms and green leaves spilling over the sculpted bench beneath it. Marietta had the silly urge to run over and sit on the bench.
Instead, she hurried over to examine it more closely. “I have a little arbor in my garden at home, although it’s not as pretty as this.” She raised her hand idly to stroke one of the blooms and realized with a thud of her heart they were sweet peas.
Her hand trembled on the
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