Page 2 of The Swan Syndicate
Time travel between the past and present had somehow become common place for their small clutch of family and friends. Though most had agreed that the stones they’d brought with them for safekeeping should remain locked away.
She was still smiling as she entered the house and took a whiff of blue spruce seeping out from the family room. They would have to take the tree down soon, but it was fun to cuddle on the couch and watch old movies with the Christmas tree providing the only light.
After dropping her purse on a side table, she wandered through the house, expecting Beckworth to be in the living room, kitchen, or bedroom. There was an office, but he rarely spent time there, preferring to create his own private study that he’d set up in the guest room. He wasn’t there either.
As a last resort, she glanced through the sliding glass door that led to the back patio. The skies were winter gray, but the air was dry if cool. The enclosed intimate yard was a gardener’s paradise. She’d spent countless hours outside with AJ, gossiping and laughing over a bottle of wine. Even though it wasn’t just the two of them anymore, they still found a way to squeeze in girl time.
“What are you doing out here?” Stella stepped onto the patio and studied the man. He was on his knees, bending over a grouping of hostas. Her gaze landed on his blue jean-covered backside and didn’t think she’d seen anything so sexy.
“I’m cutting off the spent flowers and noticed something had been burrowing, so I thought I’d cover up the hole.” Beckworth leaned back to rest on his heels. He waved to the other side of the garden. “Mrs. Simpson brought over a small cutting of heather. I think she overheard me talking to Mr. Chopra about the wildheather in England. There was an open spot in the far corner. I think it will do well there.”
When she didn’t respond, he turned his cornflower-blue eyes up at her. “What is it?”
She must have been wearing a silly grin because the confusion on his face was priceless. If she only had her phone to snap a picture. God knew he’d taken hundreds of her in the last seven months. Who would have thought this man, who’d mingled with aristocrats in London and had been a dangerous spy for the Crown, would end up tending her garden? “I’m imagining you in that same pose in the gardens at Waverly.”
He pushed his ash-blond hair back before giving her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Don’t tell anyone, but during fall cleanup, when most of the manor believed I’d gone to Eleanor’s, I dressed in the gardener’s livery and tilled the soil in the far side of the garden. Sometimes, on the way back from Eleanor’s, when the flowers were in bloom, I’d been known to cut a dead flower here and there.”
She clapped her hands together. “As Dame Ellingsworth would say, how marvelous.” It was crazy to think about what they were about to do. “I’d like to see that when we go back.”
His smile faded. “Are you sure you want to go? I’d understand if it’s too much to ask. It’s just that I feel a responsibility to check in.”
She marched over and held out her hands. He took them, and when he stood, she pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. He wrapped an arm around her lower back and tugged her closer. It was a couple of minutes before he let her go.
She wiped a touch of lipstick off his lip. “I can’t deny I’m nervous, but I trust Maire. She’s the best at deciphering and rewording the incantations. And I don’t want you going anywhere that I can’t go, too. Well, not unless it’s like a guy’s weekend or something like that. Then it would be okay. Unlessyou were going to Vegas. Or one of those resorts for singles. I suppose that would obviously upset me. What?”
His grin matched the humor in his gaze. In fact, it was likely he was ready to burst with hysterical laughter.
She grinned. “Sorry. I got sidetracked.”
“I believe that means you have the normal jitters of anyone who’s purposely traveling back two hundred years for a short holiday.”
Her throaty laugher escaped. “Exactly.”
His tone became serious. “How is AJ dealing with this?”
She stepped away and picked up the garden tools, rinsing them off at her garden workstation. She set them down to dry, then wiped her hands on a towel.
“Stella. You’ve told her—right?”
She kept her back to him. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t found the right time.”
“We leave in three days. Don’t you think you should say something before Maire or Sebastian let it slip?”
She shrugged then fussed with cleaning off the workstation. His grip on her shoulders forced her to stop, and she blinked away tears that came out of nowhere. Good grief.
He didn’t turn her around to make her face him, instead he massaged her shoulders. “What’s this all about?”
When she didn’t answer, he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze then kissed her cheek.
“Do you know what I’m in the mood for?”
She rubbed at her eyes. “What’s that?”
“One of Donna’s pies. The sisters made their own pies when I lived with them. Then AJ had to bring home one of those pies from Donna’s. Now, I can’t think of a better pie. I like the Dutch apple the best. I’m going to change and then we’ll go get one. How’s that?”
He was up to something, but it was impossible to tell what it was. The sisters were Louise and Edith, widowed for several years, and they lived together in a quaint coastal neighborhood a couple miles south of town. A year or so ago, when Beckworth had been pulled from the past to the future, he’d fallen into their driveway—dazed and confused from an injury and the effects of traveling through the fog to a different time. They pampered him to the point of irritation, yet Beckworth had forged a strange friendship with them that remained strong even now.
He met her in the kitchen in jeans and a dazzling blue shirt that matched the color of his cornflower-blue eyes. His dark brown blazer and a scarf finished his look. Even in this modern time, Beckworth retained his fashion sense.
