(Cynster 11) The Perfect Lover by Stephanie Laurens

Author:Stephanie Laurens [Laurens, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Lady O turned and stumped on.

He was settling her in the shrubbery courtyard, on a wrought-iron garden seat set beneath the spreading branches of a magnolia, when Portia joined them.

She looked at the tree. “You won’t need this after all.”

“Never mind. It’s served its purpose.” Lady O took the parasol, then settled her many layers and leaned back, closing her eyes. “You may go, the pair of you.”

Simon looked at Portia; she opened her eyes wide, shrugged.

They turned.

“Incidentally,” Lady O said, “there’s another exit from this place.” They turned back. Barely opening her eyes, she pointed with her cane. “That path. From memory, it leads through the back of the rose garden to the lake.”

She closed her eyes again.

Simon looked at Portia.

Smiling, she returned to the seat, bent and kissed Lady O’s cheek. “Thank you. We’ll come back—”

“I’m perfectly able to get myself back to the house if I wish.” Cracking open both lids, she fixed them with her best basilisk stare. “You two take yourselves off—no need in the world to hurry back.”

When they didn’t immediately move, she lifted both cane and parasol and shooed them. “Go! Go!”

Smothering grins, they went.

“She’s incorrigible.”

Gazes touching, they ducked through the archway into the rose garden.

“I don’t think she’s ever been anything else.”

He reached for Portia’s hand, twined his fingers with hers. They walked on, swiftly leaving the rose garden for the less structured gardens above the lake.

Ten minutes later, they paused where the path they’d followed crested the rise above the lake. He looked out over the water; not another soul was in sight. “Come on.” He led Portia down the narrow path and onto the wider path circling the lake.

She fell into step beside him. He kept hold of her hand; he was reasonably sure none of the others was likely to wander this way, not in the next hour.

When he led her past the front of the summerhouse, she glanced at him. He could sense her thoughts, but instead of asking where they were going, she went straight to the heart of things. “What did you want to talk about?”

Now the moment was upon him—them—although he knew what he needed to say, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Thanks to Kitty, he hadn’t had time to plan what was, in truth, a most crucial engagement in his campaign to win Portia to wife. “I ran into Kitty after I left you this morning.” He glanced at her, met her widening eyes. “She’s guessed, more or less correctly.”

She grimaced, then turned thoughtful. Frowned. “So she may cause problems.”

“That depends. She’s so caught up in her own games, she’ll only lash out and mention us if provoked.”

“Perhaps I should speak with her.”

He stopped. “No! That’s not what—”

She halted, looked at him questioningly.

He glanced about the lake path, heard a high-pitched girlish voice float down from the gardens above.

They’d reached the pinetum; a path led on, winding beneath the specimen trees. Tightening his hold on Portia’s hand, he drew her on.

Stopped only when they were surrounded by tall trees, cloaked in dappled shade—totally private.

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