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.Surely he d want to keep the hot, moist air in.She pulled the heavy wooddoor closed behind her and went exploring.The aisle was narrow, and some of the foliage hung over it, forcing her to push through a verdant curtain.She could hear dripping aswater condensed and ran off hundreds of leaves.The atmosphere was heavy and still, mustywith the smell of moss and earth. Simon? Here. Finally.His voice came from up ahead, but she couldn t see him for the obscuring jungle.She pushed aside a leaf larger than her head and suddenly came out into an open space, litby dozens of candles.She stopped.The space was circular.The glass walls flew up into a miniature dome, like the ones she dseen in pictures of Russia.In the center, a marble fountain played softly, and around theoutside were more benches with roses.Roses blooming in winter.Lucy laughed.Reds andpinks, creams, and pure whites, the roses heavy scent filled the air, topping off the senseof wonder and delight.Simon had a fairyland in his house. You ve found me. She started and looked in the direction of his voice, and her heart fluttered at the sight.Simon stood at a bench in his shirtsleeves.He wore a long green apron over his waistcoat toprotect it, and he d rolled his sleeves up, exposing his forearms, which were dusted withblond hair.Lucy smiled at the thought of Simon in working attire.This was an aspect of him that she dnever seen before, and it intrigued her.Since they d come to London, he d always been sopolished, so very much a man of the world. I hope you don t mind.Newton showed me in. Not at all.Where s Rosalind? I came alone. He stilled and darted a look at her that she found hard to interpret. All alone? So that was his worry.He d made it very plain when she first came to London that she was never to leave the house by herself.She d nearly forgotten the injunction in the interveningweek, for nothing had happened as far as she could tell.Obviously, he still worried about hisenemies. Well, except for the coachman and footmen and maid I borrowed Rosalind scarriage. She smiled easily at him. Ah. His shoulders relaxed, and he started to take off his apron. In that case, may Ioffer you some tea? You don t have to stop because of me, she said. That is, if I don t disturb you. You always disturb me, sweet angel. He retied his apron and turned back to theworkbench.She saw that he was busy, but they were to be married in less than a week.A thoughtwhispered at the back of her mind, the niggling fear that he d grown bored of her already,or worse, was having second thoughts.She walked to his side. What are you doing? He seemed to tense, but his voice was normal. Grafting roses.Not a very exciting chore,I m afraid, but you re welcome to watch. You re sure you don t mind? No, of course not. He stooped over the bench, not looking at her.He had a prickly stick infront of him, presumably part of a rose, and was carefully cutting the end into a point. We haven t been alone together in several days, and I thought it would be nice just to.talk. She found it hard to speak to him while he was half turned away.His back was stiff, as if he were mentally pushing her away, but he made no move. Yes? Lucy bit her lip. I know I shouldn t be calling so late, but Rosalind has me busy all dayshopping and finding clothes and such.You wouldn t believe how crowded the streets werethis afternoon.It took us an hour to drive home. Now she was babbling.Lucy sat on anearby stool and took a breath. Simon, have you changed your mind? That got his attention.He looked up, frowning. What? She made a jerky gesture of frustration. You seem so preoccupied all the time, and you haven t kissed me since you proposed.I wondered if perhaps you had time to think about itand changed your mind about marrying me. No! He threw the knife down and leaned straight-armed on the bench, head bowed. No,I m so sorry.I want to marry you, long to marry you, now more than ever, I assure you.Icount the days until we are finally wed.I dream of holding you in my arms as my weddedwife and then must distract my mind or go mad waiting for the day.The problem is mine. What problem? Lucy was relieved but honestly confused. Tell me and we can work on ittogether. He blew out a sigh, shook his head, and turned his face to her. I don t think so.Thisproblem is all of my own making; dealing with it must be my own cross to bear.Thank God itwill disappear in a week when we re bound by the holy vows of matrimony. You re deliberately talking in riddles. So militant, he crooned. I can picture you with a fiery sword in one hand, smitingrecalcitrant Hebrews and unbelieving Samaritans.They d cower before your stern frown andfrightening eyebrows. He laughed under his breath. Let s just say I m having trouble beingaround you without touching you. She smiled. We re engaged.You can touch me. No, actually, I can t. He straightened and picked up the paring knife again. If I touchyou, I m not certain I ll be able to stop. He bent and peered at the rose as he made anotherdeliberate cut in the stem. In fact, I m fairly certain I won t stop.I d be intoxicated byyour scent and the feel of your white, white skin. Lucy felt warmth in her cheeks.She doubted very much if her skin was so white right now.But he d hardly touched her at all in Maiden Hill.Surely if he could restrain himself then, hecould now. I No. He took a breath and shook his head as if clearing it
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