Latticework frames arched over an earthen pathway, and rose bushes, years and years old, grew up and over the latticework, thick with flowers of all sizes and colors. In the day it was a cool, pleasant retreat. At night it was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the climbing roses.
Theo laid out the afghan upon the earth floor, and he pulled Megan down upon it with him. Petals were scattered all over the earth around them, and their heady aroma filled the air.
They knelt, facing each other, and Theo reached up to take the pins from Megan’s hair, letting it tumble in soft curls around her shoulders. He slid his hands into her hair, and leaned forward to kiss her, his lips soft and tantalizing on hers.
“Is this all right?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.
“It’s perfect,” Megan answered, sliding her arms around his neck.
And so they made love there, amid the rose petals, the moonlight dappling their naked skin, their sighs and moans lost in the soft darkness, their passion flowing, circling ever higher, until at last they were lost together in a final, shattering explosion of pleasure.
Afterward, Theo wrapped the thin blanket around them, and they lay together, legs entwined, Megan’s head cradled on his shoulder, as they talked and dozed, sated. Megan did not know what lay in the future, or even what the morrow would bring, but there and then, cocooned in the soft summer night, she knew she had never been happier.
* * *
MEGAN WENT DOWN to breakfast late the next morning. Indeed, she realized, with a glance at the clock on the sideboard, that it was closer to luncheon than breakfast time. She flushed, remembering the reason that she had slept so late that morning—she had gotten little sleep the night before, slipping in the back door of the house with Theo only a little before dawn.
She found no one but Theo in the breakfast room, and he rose with a smile, his eyes lighting up.
“Hello,” he said, coming around the table to pull out her chair for her. Bending down, he murmured in her ear, “I have been hanging about drinking coffee until I am sure the servants think I am mad, hoping that you would come in.”
Megan smiled to herself and cast a glance toward the sideboard, where a footman stood ready to serve her tea.
Theo went back around to sit down across from her. “I told the twins to go ahead with their lessons alone this morning,” he went on. “I think we have too much to do today for you to work with them.”
Megan nodded and took a sip of tea. “We need to talk to Mr. Coffey.”
“And I would like a closer look at the basement of the museum.”
“Yes.” Megan got up to browse through the chafing dishes lined up on the sideboard and chose what she wanted. When she returned and set her plate on the table before her, she went on, “Most interesting of all, perhaps—we need to interview Lady Scarle.”
Theo grinned wickedly. “Ah, yes. I thought that would be the highlight of your day.”
Megan nodded as she tucked into her eggs with gusto.
“The only question is, what shall we do first?”
They discussed the matter as Megan ate and had still not made a decision when another of the footmen came to the door and paused on the threshold.
“My lord?”
Theo glanced up at him, something in the footman’s voice alerting him. “Yes? What is it?”
“There is…a person here who claims to know you,” the footman said carefully.
Even Megan, unused to the subtleties of the English servant’s demeanor, caught the tone of disapproval in the footman’s voice. Whoever was requesting admittance was clearly someone whom the servant did not think belonged here—or shouldn’t be speaking to Lord Raine.
“Who is it?”
“I do not know, sir. He refused to tell me his name. He said that he wanted to speak only to you. He is…well, rather oddly dressed.”
“Indeed? You intrigue me, Robert. Show him in.”
“My lord…” He paused, polite distress clear on his face.
Theo said, “Perhaps I should go out to see him.”
The footman’s face cleared. “I think that would be best, sir.”