Page 59 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“Wise beyond your years,” he whispered.
“I am hardly that.”
“No, you are. I have much to thank you for.” He suddenly took hold of her hand on his arm and pulled her into the rotunda. The pillared structure, with a roof high over their heads, offered some shelter in the bitterly cold night. “This place has become something of a legend in my family.”
“In what way?” she asked, following him around and quite gladly leaving her hand in his.
“Former barons wrote letters and poems to their loved ones in here.” He laughed deeply, turning his eyes up to the mural on the ceiling. Cherubs were painted with vast wings, flying across a blue sky. “I am no wordsmith. Perhaps if I were, I could write something to you, to thank you for all you have done.”
“Ha! I hardly need some grand poem,” she laughed with him. “To see you so recovered means everything.”
“You see? That’s even more amazing.” He turned to face her, his hand still in his. “You do this job because it matters to your heart, doesn’t it?” He placed his free hand over his own heart.
“Of course it does.” She nodded. “We all have our purposes in life. That’s what I believe, to make a difference to the world in the way we wish to. This is my way.”
“Ah, Orla.” He turned away again, still holding her hand and drawing her around the rotunda. They gazed between pillars, looking at more murals painted on the walls. “Dear Orla…”
“Is this you dictating a letter to me?” she teased him.
“Perhaps.” He glanced back and smile. “Dear Orla, you have quite changed my life, if you can believe that. And I do not just mean through vials, teas, and whatever that particular pungent herb is that you put in my bath.” He wrinkled his nose, and she laughed warmly.
“It’s meadowsweet.” She was touched to see him so carefree and light. This was the way he should always be, this comforted, and this happy.
“You have made me look at my life in a new way. Before you walked through the door, I was too busy with my own self-pity and misery to ever look beyond my walls. Isn’t that awful?” he added in a whisper to her. “I have so much to thank you for.”
“You already have done so,” she said in a rush. “Do not thank me for anymore.”
“Can I thank you for being here? Even though…” He trailed off as they stopped walking, coming face to face. “We should not be meeting like this in the dark of the night, hand in hand.”
“I have a feeling I would come whenever you needed me.” Her words were light, and she hoped he knew through her tone alone just how much she meant them.
A sound beyond the rotunda drew their attention. He pulled her toward the doorway, and they peered out.
Two shadows flitted across the garden together.
“Who is that?” he asked.
Orla strained, narrowing her eyes. She laughed quietly when she suddenly saw George and Esther together, their outlines barely discernible.
“It’s George and Esther,” she whispered. “I thought there was something between them, oh-” she broke off.
George and Esther had stopped walking in the garden. Neither of them had any idea they were being watched from the moonlit rotunda. George moved toward Esther with her cheeks in his hand and kissed her. It was the sweetest of kisses, soft and brief, yet it meant the world to Esther, who giggled as he released her.
“He’s good at holding himself back from temptation, isn’t he?” Horace whispered to Orla.
“Oh, and you are not?” she teased him.
“I’m very bad at it. If I had you in my arms in that way…” he broke off, and she laughed softly.
“Do not tempt me with what you would do, my lord. I might want to hear everything you would do.”
She looked at him, feeling his eyes burning into her skin.
He could burn me with the heat of that kiss.
“Ah,” he whispered, looking away. “They are coming this way.”
“What do we do?”
