Page 93 of Sense and Suitability
“Well, at least she’s among good company,” Aster quipped before casting Emme a pointed look.
“Is that so?” He dipped his head to Aster in greeting.
“How can you doubt it? You know Emme.” Her sister only tipped her brow higher, needling the reference to Emme and Simon’s past. “She’s always been a little too opinionated for her own good, setting off into ridiculous rescue plans without thought.”
Aster’s implications, and in front of Simon of all people, were too pointed.
“You’re one to talk, sister.” Emme’s face grew sunburn hot, butshe pushed up a grin for diversion, if nothing else. “It’s no wonder Charlotte felt a kinship to us then, is it?”
“No wonder,” Simon murmured, his gaze lingering on hers just long enough to set her pulse skittering before he shifted his focus. “But if she isn’t here, where could she be? I came directly from the estate.”
“She’s likely on her way.” Emme was thankful her voice sounded much calmer than the tremor of her pulse. “Perhaps you traveled faster than she anticipated.”
“Yes, that’s quite possible.” He exhaled with a nod, scanning the garden again. “I rode Zeus. Her mare is not the fastest animal.”
“Given by design, I’m sure.” Emme allowed herself a small, teasing smile as she snipped another chrysanthemum, only to realize—too late—that Aster had vanished, leaving her alone with Simon.
Her breath hitched.Dear heavens.Aster had abandoned her with the one man she had no business being alone with. Whatwasher sister thinking?
“I apologize for interrupting your”—he gestured to the bouquet—“artistry?”
“Bouquet for the dining room,” she managed, adjusting the flowers as though they would shield her from the effect his nearness had on her thoughts, pulse... emotions. Good heavens, all of her.
He didn’t stand terribly close, but her desire for him to step closer was a traitorous thought. It really wasn’t fair for him to show up in her garden looking this handsome. And if it wasn’t incredibly inappropriate to tell him, she would have said so. “Chrysanthemums are in such abundance this year, and they carry a lovely meaning of...” Her gaze settled on the red one in her hand.Love.She hesitated. “Good fortune.”
“Good fortune?” He stepped nearer, inspecting a flower with a half smile that made her knees feel rather unsteady. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm. An excellent flower for you, Lord Ravenscross, to inspire the best of luck.”
His lips crooked further, and her heart stammered rigorously in response.
She wouldn’t have to feign a faint at all if he kept this up. Heaven help her!
All she needed to do was make it through this week, and then she would be gone.
She turned back to her work to keep her face from his, taking the opportunity to pluck a late sunflower next, sending him a grin over her shoulder. “Sunflowers for determination, in honor of Charlotte.”
His chuckle warmed the space between them, sending a lovely tingle up her neck, despite the high collar of her jacket. “Determination, indeed. She has that in spades.”
Emme was certain she was disproving Aster’s assessment of her acting abilities with each moment she passed in Simon’s presence. But whatever skills she did possess were beginning to weaken with each grin or look he sent her. Something new hid in those eyes, and her heart nearly lurched from her chest attempting to seize it.
She shifted a step to the right, plucking a white rose. Relatively safe. “Gathering bouquets is one of my favorite tasks. Not only do they make a room more cheerful, but the aromas sweeten any space.”
“Indeed.” His voice brewed low, nearer. “And what does the white rose signify?”
Her breaths grew shallower. She cleared her throat and then almost whimpered. Love, also. But she sifted through her mind for a safer meaning. “Loyalty, actually.” How on earth were the plants even conspiring against her?
“Loyalty?” At this, he’d drawn too near, his presence entirely too much. Oh, why was he torturing her so? Hadn’t Miss Clayton supplied ample distraction? Or Miss Thompson, for heaven’s sake?
To keep from turning toward him, Emme reached for another bloom without looking, but instead of a chrysanthemum, her fingers closed around a sprig of nettles.
“Ah!” She snatched her hand back and dropped her shears altogether.
“Nettles?” Simon’s concern gave way to a wry grin, his brow arching. “What subtle message were you hoping to convey with those?”
Cradling her stung fingers, she glared weakly at him. “Perhaps ‘keep your distance’ would suffice.”
“Ah, but I’ve never been one to heed instruction well either.” His voice swooped low, reverberating somewhere inside her—the teasing look in his eyes disarming her entirely. In fact, she hadn’t realized he’d taken her hand until she saw him lifting her fingers for inspection.
