Free Loretta Chase - The Devil's Delilah by Loretta Chase Page B

had built his house in Elizabeth's time, but had not included lodgings for her majesty's household in the modest plans. The queen and her entourage were a deal too noisy for his simple tastes.
    Jack knew every servant, down to the lowest pot boy. The labourers who maintained the building and grounds had been doing so for decades. Every face was familiar and trusted.
    Stifling a sigh, he said, "I suppose, then, the book will be safest at Rossing Hall." Reluctantly he went on to outline the advantages of his uncle's house, the viscount's reclusive habits, and the virtual impossibility of strangers invading the premises, but Miss Desmond broke in abruptly, her grey-green eyes alight with inspiration.
    "No," she said. "I have a better idea. We'll bury it."
    "We'll what?" cried Jack, aghast.
    "Here. In the garden." Miss Desmond abruptly released his arm and began walking quickly down the path which led to the perennial beds.
    Mr. Langdon hastened after her. "Miss Desmond, you cannot dig up your aunt's flower beds. Don't you think the gardener will remark it?"
    "She's made him move something. I heard her complaining about the bees. There!" she cried triumphantly as they reached a bed entirely stripped of the bergamot it had once contained. "He hasn't replanted yet."
    "Of course not, in this heat. If you knew anything about gardening, Miss Desmond — "
    "I don't need to know anything." She turned shining eyes upon him. "Because she knows nothing of ancient Greek horticulture. We'll tell her it's an experiment."
    She dragged Jack off to the potting shed, where, after a brief discussion with the distracted gardener, they possessed themselves of a few tools and several healthy seedlings.
    After a brief argument, Jack dug the hole. Miss Desmond placed the book in its grave, waited until he had thrown some dirt upon it, then began stuffing plants into the loose soil. Jack knelt beside her.
    "They'll die," he said, eying the seedlings. Some were packed into dirt so deeply that only the very tops showed. "It's too hot and I'm sure you've done it wrong."
    "Then we'll blame it on the Greeks." Miss Desmond thrust a stray lock of hair back from her face.
    It was very hot, indeed. The air was as thick as new-churned butter. Mr. Langdon had removed his coat, but his waistcoat was plastered to his shirt, which was stuck to his skin. He noted that Miss Desmond had rubbed a dirty smudge onto her right cheekbone. He was about to offer his handkerchief when he saw a bead of perspiration trickle down from her temples past the smudge, along her slender white neck, past her collarbone and on down until it disappeared at the edge of her bodice. The air must have grown heavier still, because Mr. Langdon suddenly found it quite impossible to breathe.
    Miss Desmond looked towards him then. Her eyes widened slightly and her cheeks began to glow faintly pink. She scrambled up very quickly. Too quickly, apparently, in the heat, because he saw her hand go to her head as she began to sway.
    Jack rose hastily. "Miss Desmond, are you ill?" he asked, putting out his hand to assist her.
    "No," she said, backing away. "Just dizzy for a moment. I — "
    She did not complete the thought because she tripped on the trowel and lost her balance.
    Fortunately, she stumbled forwards instead of backwards, and Jack was able to catch her before she fell. Unfortunately, once he'd caught her, he was presented with an interesting example of the mind-body dichotomy. His mind told him to let go of her. His hands clasped her upper arms more firmly. Then his gaze locked with hers and, drawn like the tides to the moon, his head bent slowly until his lips met soft ones, tasting slightly of salt, and while his brain watched, horrified and helpless, he kissed her.

    Mr. Atkins had no business in the garden. Though Desmond had put him off in his usual urbanely evasive way, Lady Potterby had made plain her disapproval of the publisher's unexpected visit. Naturally she would not approve. He