Page 21 of Enticing the Devil

Colin and Ainsworth glanced up from their conversation and Caillie eyed his sudden movement curiously. He couldn’t bring himself to risk another glance to his partner.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Not bothering to wait for any reply, he turned and strode heavily through the garden to the back gate and didn’t stop until he was deep beneath the cool canopy of the woods that extended westward from the house and manicured grounds.

He shouldn’t care what the fine Lady Anne thought of him. He didn’t care. At least, not beyond the fact that they were stuck together in this god-awful game for the next several days.

He’d been fully honest when he’d told Roderick he had no intention of considering a bride amongst the ladies gathered here. Not that he didn’t wish to marry. The idea of having a wife and children appealed to him greatly. But he would choose a woman who’d be willing and able to work the farm right beside him. Someone who’d share in the burdens as well as the rewards of their labor. As his mother had done for his stepfather.

He sure as hell wouldn’t ever consider a woman who was suited to nothing more than serving tea while perched at the edge of a settee or flitting about a ballroom dressed in silks and lace. He told himself Lady Anne’s obvious aversion to the touch of her fine skirts to his worn boots meant absolutely nothing to him. But it was the cerulean fire in her eyes that made him feel like there wasn’t a forest dark enough, cool enough, or deep enough to escape the unwanted heat she triggered in his blood.

Chapter Eight

Flower arranging.

That was the afternoon event.

One partner was tasked with selecting the blooms while the other was responsible for creating the most attractive arrangement. The results were to be anonymously judged by the Countess of Harte’s great-aunt, Lady Chelmsworth.

So it was that Beynon found himself standing at the long gardener’s table in the estate greenhouse beside the other gentlemen competitors, staring at the profusive array of choices. Flowers of every color, shape, size, and scent imaginable were on display. There were more than a few he’d never seen before and some he sure as hell couldn’t identify by name.

The rules indicated you had to choose at least three different types but no more than seven.

As the other men stepped around the table, making their selections, Beynon stood in place with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d never had cause to consider what might go into making a stylish bouquet. But he couldn’t remain unmoving for long. There was also a time limit placed on the event. The sooner he got the flowers to Lady Anne, the better chance she’d have of making sense of what he managed to collect.

Not that he cared about winning the event. He just didn’t want it to be said he hadn’t at least tried to do his part.

“Come now, brother,” Roderick said with a clap on the back as he passed by. “No need to look so pained. They’re just flowers.”

Beynon’s response was a rough grunt as he continued to glare at the explosion of blooms.

Just as he was about to start grabbing whatever was closest to him, he caught sight of something familiar. Wild honeysuckle.

Taking up a small handful, he paused as the heady scent brought on a subtle wave of nostalgia. Seeing another couple flowers he recognized, he grabbed a little of each of those, as well. In no time at all, he was suddenly the last man still making his choices. Looking at what he had in his hand, he realized they were all rather small, delicate things when he’d seen others with big blooms—roses and lilies and such. Thinking he needed something a bit bolder to balance things out, he spotted some blue hyacinths nearby. Then he took up some maidenhair ferns to add some greenery to his mix.

With a dubious look at his odd cluster, he gave a shrug.

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