“May I offer you some tea, Sergeant?” Lily asked.
“That’s right kind of you, ma’am, but I’m afeard we ’aven’t the time,” Sergeant Green replied. His men were already in her bedroom doing Lord knew what with her bed linen. “Is there anyone else in the, er, theater?”
“Just myself and my maid and son.” She gestured to Maude and Indio. Daffodil took the opportunity to growl at the sergeant and attempt to wriggle free from Maude’s arms.
“Quite.” The sergeant had narrowed his eyes at the little greyhound. “And you are…?”
“Why, Miss Robin Goodfellow,” she said with what she knew was becoming modesty.
One of the soldiers tripped.
The sergeant looked impressed. “The actress?”
“You’ve heard of me, Sergeant?” she asked, all wide-eyed amazement, her hand pressed modestly to her chest. “How flattering.”
“Saw you in that play—the one in which you wore”—the sergeant blushed a deep russet and lowered his voice—“breeches. Awful grand, you were, ma’am. Awful grand.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, feigning flustered confusion. “Can you tell me whom your men are looking for?”
“A wanted man,” Sergeant Green said darkly. “Right dangerous character. Are there more rooms in the theater, ma’am?”
ll it did was arouse her further.
Her bodice was crushed against his great chest, the slopes of her upper breasts pressed with each inhalation against the coarse cloth of his waistcoat, and she wanted… wanted something.
It’d been such a very long time since she’d been with a man. The emotions, the heat between them, made her breathless, and it was her own lack of control that finally sobered her.
“Wait,” she gasped, breaking away, pressing one palm to his chest. “I…”
He licked lazily at the corner of her mouth, not demanding, but seducing, which was, in this case, far more dangerous. She moaned a little and then got herself under control and pulled back.
“Put me down,” she said in her most haughty voice. Had she not been so very breathless, it would’ve come off rather well.
“You’re sure?” he drawled. There was a slash of color high on each of his craggy cheekbones and his eyes were lidded with sensuality.
Was she? “Quite,” she said, much more firmly than she actually felt.
He sighed heavily and let her slide—slowly—down his chest.
“Erm… thank you,” she said, trying and probably failing to regain some of her dignity. She brushed down her skirts, looking anywhere but at him. “We should return to the theater. I sent Maude and Indio out for meat pies for our supper and they should be back soon. You’re invited, of course.”
“I’m honored… to accept,” he said as formally as if she were the Queen.
She nodded and began to set off before she realized that they were in a part of the garden she’d never seen before. “Where are we?”
“The heart,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “The very… heart of my future garden… the center of the maze.”
She shivered at his words. This place didn’t look any different from anywhere else in the garden, but garden hearts, she supposed, like human hearts, could be disguised.
“I can’t see it,” she said.
He took a step toward her and turned her to face the same way as he, her back against his chest. “Here,” he said, wrapping his arms over her shoulders to hold her hands. “There’ll be a folly… of some sort right here… beneath our feet. A fountain or… waterfall or statue. Benches for lovers to sit and… kiss. The entrance will be over here”—he pointed to a space to the right—“and the maze… will wind all around us… like an embrace.”
Slowly he turned with her, tracing with his outstretched hand his imaginary maze.
“You have so much faith,” she whispered.
She felt him shrug behind her. “It’s there already… just waiting for the right person… to find it and bring it alive,” he said softly in her ear. “A maze… is eternal, you know, once discovered.”