Come Near Me (11 page)

She raced to her right, cupping an immense yellow
bloom in her hands. “Why, it’s as big as a dessert plate! And
here,” she said, pointing to a bush nearly as tall as she, its inky
dark leaves fitting frames for several dozen blooms as white as
snow, each as perfect as a snowflake. “And over there. That pink.
I’ve never seen such a pink as that. This isn’t just a garden, my
lord. It’s
paradise!”

Adam descended the steps slowly, his eyes never
leaving Sherry’s face, never looking at the flowers. He offered her
his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her along the curved
paths of the garden.

“Yes,” he agreed as he felt himself becoming
complete, after so many years of being half a person, having only
half a heart. “That’s just how I would have put it, Miss Victor.
Paradise. A veritable Eden. And not a snake in sight. Shall we take
that stroll now?”

He was nervous, afraid he might frighten
her—
would
frighten her—if he moved too quickly, gave her
even the slightest indication that he wanted to kiss her, to hold
her, to crush her against him and never, never ever let her go.

“Augustus—he’s our head gardener—told me a garden
like this only comes along once in every hundred years,” he told
Sherry, as they picked their way over the bricked path. “A proper
combination of a wet fall and a mild winter, followed by an early
spring and large quantities of sunshine. And his special soil
treatments, of course. Nature might be powerful, but without his
special treatments, none of which I encouraged him to describe, the
garden would simply be lovely, not extraordinary.”

“Bone meal,” Sherry stated quite unromantically.

Adam’s lips twitched. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, my lord—bone meal. That’s what my mama
swore by, and our gardens are always lovely, although not nearly as
grand as this one. I imagine that’s ground-up bones, or something,
but you can never be sure just by the name of something, you know.
I mean, just think about it. There are so many things we say that
don’t mean at all what a sensible person would think they
mean.”

“Such as?” Adam asked, aware that, although he might
be falling in love, Sherry Victor seemed not to be noticing his
tumble.

“Well,” she said, sitting down on a stone bench
beside the path, “I imagine Privy Councillor would be one such
description that comes to mind. I do believe I read, somewhere,
that in olden times the King retreated to the castle privy chamber
in order to speak privately with his counselors. The man left to
guard the door, allowing no one else entrance, even somehow got
himself the title of Privy Watch–out Person or something like
that.”

“Something like that,” Adam agreed, his mind
whirling. He was sitting in the most beautiful garden in the world,
with the most beautiful woman in the universe, and they were
discussing castle privies?

“But the King doesn’t meet with his advisors in a
privy anymore, now does he, my lord? I mean, you must have been to
his palace. They don’t meet there, do they?”

Adam scratched at a spot just in front of his left
ear. “I seem to recall a large, vaulted chamber, and a quantity of
portraits. Perhaps velvet draperies.”

“You see? And yet the King’s most trusted advisors,
undoubtedly most officious and yet privileged persons, go by the
title of Privy Councillors. They’re probably even proud to have
that title.” She subsided a bit on the bench, losing some of her
stiff, proper posture. “Well, I just know I could never look any of
those gentlemen in the eye without falling into giggles and quite
horribly disgracing myself.”

“I believe I now share that problem with you,” Adam
said, conjuring up the faces of the Privy Council and imagining
them all stuck in a drafty castle privy, whispering secrets to the
King, who might have been otherwise occupied at the time. “I’ll
have to withdraw from Society, in fact, or else make a total fool
of myself.”

He watched as Sherry’s cheeks colored attractively.
“I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” she asked, heartbreakingly
beautiful in her embarrassment. “Mrs. Forrest says I talk entirely
too much, and without ever first bothering to think my words
through. Please accept my apologies, my lord.”

“Never,” Adam answered, taking her hand and lifting
it to his lips. “I find you refreshingly frank and honest, Miss
Victor, and most totally delightful.”

She looked at her hand, being held in his, and then
into his face. “You do? How odd.”

This particular bit of honesty tickled Adam so much
that he threw back his head and laughed, a hearty laugh that melted
any lingering ice around his heart. As Sherry stumbled into speech,
telling him that
he
was not at all odd, that
she
was
probably odd for saying such an odd thing—he wasn’t quite sure of
her every word, but there were more than a few
odds
sprinkled in her speech—he leaned forward and kissed the tip of her
nose.

“Oh,” Sherry breathed, looking confused, yet not
precisely frightened, even when he took hold of her other hand as
well, holding them both against his chest. “Um... why did you do
that?”

Adam could have said many things then. He could have
showered her with easy flattery, complimented her beauty, plucked a
bit of poetry from his memory and trotted it in front of her. He
could have done so many things, including apologizing for his
forwardness. But he found he could be nothing but candid in the
face of her own sweet honesty.

“I had to, Miss Victor,” he told her, leaning
forward and repeating his pleasurable transgression. “In fact, if I
don’t soon taste your mouth, I may just wither and die.”

“Oh,” she said again. But she didn’t look away. “I—I
thought I was the only one. You—you feel it, too?”

Did she have any idea how her simple honesty
affected him? No artifice, no social correctness, no silly,
pointless games. She
felt
things, and then she
said
what she felt. What he felt.

“Ah, yes, Miss Victor, I feel it, too. Frightening,
isn’t it? Whatever
it
is.”

“Quite nearly terrifying. A heart really shouldn’t
beat this fast,” she whispered. “It can’t be healthy.”

“Perhaps if we were to kiss, satisfy our mutual
curiosity?” Adam suggested, stroking his thumbs over the backs of
her hands, noticing how cold her fingers had become in the gentle
warmth of the spring evening. “Then we’d
know,
Miss Victor.
We really should know, shouldn’t we?”

“I’d like to know, my lord,” she told him,
withdrawing her hands from his grasp and primly folding them
together in her lap. “And, after all, Mrs. Forrest isn’t here, is
she? Which is a good thing,” she added with a rather wicked smile,
“as I’m assured she’d have an apoplexy. Yes. Let’s do it. Just to
see what happens... as an experiment of sorts.” Sherry slowly shut
her eyes, offering her closed mouth to him with a trust and
innocence that were all that held him fast to at least one small,
ragged edge of sanity.

Adam cupped her face in both his hands, studying
her, smiling at the sight of her scrunched-up features. This was
madness, but at the same time it was an adventure, a most glorious
adventure into the unknown. Slowly, drawing out the heady
anticipation of pleasure, he lowered his head toward Sherry’s.

“Ah! There you are, brother. Easy enough to lose a
small army out here, amongst the posies. What’s wrong? Has Miss
Victor got something in her eye? I seriously doubt that, but I’m as
willing as the next gentleman to throw down an excuse if you wish
to pick it up.”

“Consider it retrieved,” Adam said quietly,
releasing Sherry, his fingertips lingering, only for the barest
hint of a second, on her smooth cheeks. He turned to look at
Geoffrey Dagenham, his younger brother, his most beloved only
brother, and a man he most heartily wished a thousand miles from
Daventry Court. “Surely a visit to the hounds takes longer than
this.”

“It could take forever, if Mr. Victor had his way,
so I left him to it,” Geoffrey answered brightly. “I think I’ve
given him pick of the latest litter, but I can’t be sure. My brains
started to spin after the first quarter hour of talking bloodlines
and points and, with your pardon, miss, fecund bitches. May I join
you?”

“Of course—”

“Not
,” Adam finished as Sherry moved down the
bench and Geoffrey, his smile one of unholy glee, promptly plunked
himself down between them.

The young lord looked to his brother and Sherry in
turn. “Now, isn’t this cozy? What shall we talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Geoff. Your impending trip to our
estate in Jamaica, perhaps? You can sail on the next tide, if you
hurry,” Adam offered politely.

Peeking out from beside Geoffrey, Sherry looked at
Adam and giggled. “Jamaica? You have no estate on the farside of
the moon, then, my lord?” she asked innocently, showing both men
that she was not quite so young or defenseless as either might have
believed.

Geoffrey’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then
he clapped Adam hard on the back and roared with laughter. “Well,”
he said at last, sobering, “I can see I’m not wanted here. Or
needed. Miss Victor,” he said, rising to his feet and bowing, “your
servant. And Adam? Someday you’re going to have to explain to me
why you get all the good luck in the family. And now I’ll be off to
the kennels again, probably to ruin my new shoes by stepping in
something.”

As he walked away, Sherry said, “I like him.”

“Most people do,” Adam agreed. “He’s quite good at
playing the fool. As a matter of fact, I’m giving serious thought
to getting him a belled cap.”

“And a pair of those upturned, pointy shoes?” Sherry
asked, smiling. “I should think he’d want the shoes as well. Then
he could sit in the corner until he was called upon to juggle balls
or otherwise amuse you while you’re at table. Do you think he could
balance a broomstick on his nose?”

“I believe he’s already done it or, if he hasn’t, an
offer of ten pounds for trying the trick would have him racing for
a broomstick,” Adam said, winking. “At last I believe someone has
found Geoffrey’s niche in life for him. But enough of foolish
brothers, all right? Now,” he said, then turned and took Sherry’s
face in his hands once more. “Where were we?”

Her intelligent green eyes twinkled, they really
did. With mischief. With excitement. With a simple, uncomplicated
joy for life he’d forgotten to feel years ago. “Experimenting, my
lord?” she prompted politely, then smiled a smile that hit him
somewhere in the region of his solar plexus, robbing him of most of
his breath.

“Ah, yes,” he said, using up what little oxygen
remained in his entire body as she once more closed her eyes, drew
up her full lips in a pucker that caught him halfway between desire
and amusement.

He kissed her forehead. He kissed each of her closed
eyes. He kissed that most wonderful, most adorable nose. He watched
as her eyes opened in shock as his mouth brushed against her primly
pursed mouth. Once. Twice. A third time.

Until that mouth softened under his gentle assault,
until a warm, nearly silent breath slipped between her lips and
caressed his skin.

She sat very still, her eyes remaining open,
brimming with questions he knew he couldn’t even begin to answer.
At least not tonight.

He tipped his head slightly, kissed her again.
Softly. Gently. Raised his head, tipped it again, kissed her again.
Butterfly kisses, each one a heartbeat longer than the last.

He took her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging
gently. He ran the tip of his tongue over her full upper lip,
feeling her smile against his mouth, smiling against hers.

And never did either of them close their eyes, not
when they were kissing each other, not in between those kisses,
when they sat back, looked at each other, smiled at each other,
spoke volumes without saying a single word.

His fingers were buried in her hair even as it
released from its pins, tumbling down around her shoulders, a warm,
living curtain of fire. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs,
dazzled by the smoothness of her skin beneath his touch, the warmth
of her, the vulnerability of her. The trust she invested in
him.

“This...” Adam said between kisses, “this is...
quite... incredibly... wrong.”

“Wrong...” Sherry echoed, raising her hands so that
she cupped his elbows in her palms. “Yes. Mrs. Forrest... Mrs.
Forrest would say it is unacceptable behavior.”

“Definitely unacceptable...” Adam concurred, sliding
his hands down the length of Sherry’s slim throat, molding her
shoulders to his touch. “Mrs. Forrest is probably a most exemplary
woman, a woman of sense. She’d never be caught kissing in a
garden.”

“No... she wouldn’t...” Sherry said, gifting him
with another telling sigh of pleasure. “Poor thing. I feel sorry
for her, don’t you?”

“We’ll send her an invitation to the wedding,” Adam
said, sliding his arms around Sherry’s back, drawing her close
against him.

“Yes... that would be nice,” she agreed dreamily as
she nipped at his bottom lip with her straight white teeth, proving
that she was a quick learner. In fact, if she learned any more
quickly, Adam believed he’d have to leave her where she sat and go
throw himself in the pond before he caught fire. Then she sat up
very straight, her hands braced on his shoulders, looking
wonderfully mussed, her lips moist and even slightly bee-stung from
all their kisses. “Excuse me, my lord, but—
whose
wedding?
Surely—surely you don’t mean
ours
?”

“I accept,” Adam said, lifting her to her feet,
standing with her, the length of her body searing him from chest to
knee, although he didn’t hold her, dropped his arms most properly
to his sides—as if he’d done a single proper thing since meeting
this splendid, precious, fairy-tale princess. He wasn’t a drinking
man, never had been, but he felt most gloriously drunk at this
moment. “Not only that, dearest Miss Victor, but I thought you’d
never ask.”