sort,” she said. “And the fence should be lined with flowering vines. I don’t know what kind but maybe morning glory or a hydrangea vine.”
“And a fountain,” he said. “In the center.” He walked into the middle. “And some chairs to sit in.
Sophie wasn’t looking at the yard anymore. She was staring at his face. What he was saying was exactly what she envisioned and it meant more to her than she could have imagined that he would understand her idea. “yes,” was all she could get out.
He turned to face her. “This looks great, Sophie. You have real talent. I wasn’t kidding this morning when I mentioned that if you wanted to do this as a career, I would back you.”
“Really?” she asked, her smile broadening.
He laughed softly. “Yes,” he repeated. “Just come up with a business plan and present it to me.” He moved closer to her. “And one more thing,” he said, his large hands holding her shoulders, then sliding gently down her arms.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to care and ignore the sensations speeding to her stomach with his touch.
“If the gardener ever glares at you again, fire him,” he said firmly.
His words snapped through her haze of feeling. “Fire him?” she asked, astounded.
“Yes. Just get rid of him. I will not tolerate rudeness from my staff and neither should you,” he explained.
“But they work for you,” she said, stepping back and immediately feeling cold without his touch.
“Sophie, that is ridiculous. You are not a guest in this house.” He came forward and turned her so she was facing him again. “Is that what you feel like? Is that one of the reasons you were so unhappy before?”
“I suppose that’s part of it,” she lied. The whole reason had been because she wanted his love and knew that he could never love someone as drab and ordinary as she was. It had been too painful. It still was, she knew. He had married her out of pity after losing her father and she’d let him, knowing how much she’d loved him from the first time she’d seen him. Those feelings hadn’t gone away.
“Are you going to tell me the reasons or are you going to demand to be released from this marriage each time you get angry?” he asked, his mouth lowering to kiss the curve of her neck.
“Um…” she couldn’t think anymore. His mouth was nibbling on her earlobe now, his hands pulling her body against his and all she could think about was getting more of him.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked suddenly, lifting his head and looking right down at her.
“My favorite color,” she repeated, confused by the sudden change of subject.
“Yes,” he was looking down at her intently. “And do you know how to drive?”
“No,” she replied, unable to hold his gaze. “My father would never let me learn.” She stepped out of his arms and picked up her shovel and gloves intending to go back to the house. She had another sudden thought. “Isn’t it Saturday night?” she asked, finally looking back at him.
“Yes. Why?”
“Don’t you have some sort of function you have to attend?” she asked, worry seeping into her body. “Have I made you late?” She finished picking up all her tools and stuffing them into her work bucket. “I’m sorry. I can be ready to go soon. I just need to shower and change. What’s tonight?” she asked.
“Sophie, stop,” he said and pulled her bucket of tools out of her hand to carry them back to the house for her. He put a hand in the small of her back and walked beside her. “I canceled our plans for the night,” he explained.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I was told you were absorbed in a project,” he replied as if that answered all her questions.
“I’m sorry! I could have stopped. You should have sent someone out to get me.”
“It wasn’t as important as you finishing what you were
“And a fountain,” he said. “In the center.” He walked into the middle. “And some chairs to sit in.
Sophie wasn’t looking at the yard anymore. She was staring at his face. What he was saying was exactly what she envisioned and it meant more to her than she could have imagined that he would understand her idea. “yes,” was all she could get out.
He turned to face her. “This looks great, Sophie. You have real talent. I wasn’t kidding this morning when I mentioned that if you wanted to do this as a career, I would back you.”
“Really?” she asked, her smile broadening.
He laughed softly. “Yes,” he repeated. “Just come up with a business plan and present it to me.” He moved closer to her. “And one more thing,” he said, his large hands holding her shoulders, then sliding gently down her arms.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to care and ignore the sensations speeding to her stomach with his touch.
“If the gardener ever glares at you again, fire him,” he said firmly.
His words snapped through her haze of feeling. “Fire him?” she asked, astounded.
“Yes. Just get rid of him. I will not tolerate rudeness from my staff and neither should you,” he explained.
“But they work for you,” she said, stepping back and immediately feeling cold without his touch.
“Sophie, that is ridiculous. You are not a guest in this house.” He came forward and turned her so she was facing him again. “Is that what you feel like? Is that one of the reasons you were so unhappy before?”
“I suppose that’s part of it,” she lied. The whole reason had been because she wanted his love and knew that he could never love someone as drab and ordinary as she was. It had been too painful. It still was, she knew. He had married her out of pity after losing her father and she’d let him, knowing how much she’d loved him from the first time she’d seen him. Those feelings hadn’t gone away.
“Are you going to tell me the reasons or are you going to demand to be released from this marriage each time you get angry?” he asked, his mouth lowering to kiss the curve of her neck.
“Um…” she couldn’t think anymore. His mouth was nibbling on her earlobe now, his hands pulling her body against his and all she could think about was getting more of him.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked suddenly, lifting his head and looking right down at her.
“My favorite color,” she repeated, confused by the sudden change of subject.
“Yes,” he was looking down at her intently. “And do you know how to drive?”
“No,” she replied, unable to hold his gaze. “My father would never let me learn.” She stepped out of his arms and picked up her shovel and gloves intending to go back to the house. She had another sudden thought. “Isn’t it Saturday night?” she asked, finally looking back at him.
“Yes. Why?”
“Don’t you have some sort of function you have to attend?” she asked, worry seeping into her body. “Have I made you late?” She finished picking up all her tools and stuffing them into her work bucket. “I’m sorry. I can be ready to go soon. I just need to shower and change. What’s tonight?” she asked.
“Sophie, stop,” he said and pulled her bucket of tools out of her hand to carry them back to the house for her. He put a hand in the small of her back and walked beside her. “I canceled our plans for the night,” he explained.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I was told you were absorbed in a project,” he replied as if that answered all her questions.
“I’m sorry! I could have stopped. You should have sent someone out to get me.”
“It wasn’t as important as you finishing what you were
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