Seductive Deception

Chapter 22

They followed the hedgerow until they discovered a wrought iron fence hidden by ivy.

"What's this?"

Morgan walked the length of it, peaking his head around both sides. "Hmmm," he said, his throat working, "it's some sort of enclosure."

Morgan tugged at Allegra's hand, letting it slip through as he walked around the edges.

"Ah ha," he said, peaking through the gate, "it must be a partition for roses, and since I know how much you adore roses...."

He shot her a sly smirk that was enough to make her whole body come alive.

She replied in kind as she watched him jiggle the lock before pulling his knife out, sliding it in, wiggling, and maneuvering until they both heard a click.

"So versatile," he mocked, and Allegra laughed as he swung the door open with a rusty squeak.

Row upon row of neatly organized rose bushes filled the interior. In the middle, a statue of a nude Venus beckoned them. On each side sat ornate scrollwork black iron benches, and in the back, a quaint potter's shed with a thatched roof, with a shovel holding the door ajar.

"It's a little too conventional for my tastes," he jested.

She tipped her head to take it in.

"Do you prefer rambling wildflowers and weeds?"

"Indeed."

"And yet you want to change the garden in the back of the dower house. Why?"

He turned to face her, his jaw agape, "I never said change; I said polish, refine. I wasn't planning on leveling it and planting all roses. There's nothing wrong with a little bit of adaptation."

How acute, she'd thought, and would wonder about the application of it in other parts of her life, but for now, she shot back at him, raising a brow. He ignored her, reaching to yank his tie instead. "I don't understand the preoccupation with neck accessories in the peerage."

"Would you stop?" she admonished before his big shoulders finally dropped, and he let her take a look. Then, as if approaching a figment of her imagination that threatened to disappear, she tiptoed to him and hesitantly took the tie in her hands, not daring to meet his gaze.

If she were in her right mind, she might have commented on the sleek feel of it in her hands or how well it was tied, but she was having trouble keeping her hands from shaking. She bit her lip, struggling with her fingers to comply. Why was this so barmy difficult?

She could sense his eyes on her, tracing her lips, chin, the shallow dips at the base of her neck, the mask concealing very little. What did he think as he studied her? She swallowed, planting her feet to the earth as a pulsing need swelled inside. She watched as he parted his lips, aching to run her finger along the little 'v' shape as he took a deep breath. The sound of their breathing, ragged and harsh, revealed more than they'd each bargained as it punctuated the silence between them. She recognized the sound and knew he did, too. Arousal. Her breasts grew heavy— her nipples tightening, her lips tingling with want; she didn't dare look up, knowing he'd see the need in her eyes.

Heady and unrelenting need.

"I'm glad we're alone," he whispered, his voice husky.

Her heart gave a jolt at the admission.

She fumbled, nearly dropping the tie as it became loose before giving it a final tug, relishing the silk slide against the starched collar as she bunched it in her hands.

He bent in as he breathed, his warm breath brushing against her lips— "I'm going to make love to you in this garden, and there is nothing you can do about it. Unless, of course, you say no. And then I will escort you like the gentleman I am back to the ball."