He followed the meandering brick path to the far edge of the garden. He paused to prune a dying purple rose from a newly planted bush. He’d surprised himself by finding that he didn’t mind gardening. In fact, he found the whole process relaxing. Who’d have ever guessed that?
A glint of bright light caught his eye. He glanced around, finding an idle speedboat bobbing in the swells not far off the shoreline. The light must have been a reflection. It wasn’t unusual for the water to be filled with boats on these beautiful sunny days. And today, with the brilliant sunrise, it wasn’t surprising that people were out enjoying the warm air and the colorful sky.
He didn’t give the boat any further attention as he turned back to his task. He continued to trim the dead blooms from the bush when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Was it animal? Or human?
Deacon swung around. He didn’t see anything. Perhaps it was just his exhaustion catching up to him. With a shake of his head, he returned to his task.
“Good morning.”
The sound of Gabrielle’s voice startled him. He turned with a jerk. “You shouldn’t be here.” Did she have to invade every part of his life? Frustration churned within him. “Go!”
Her eyes widened. “I...I’m sorry.”
She stepped back. Her foot must have struck the edge of a brick because the next thing he knew, her arms were flailing about and then she was falling. He started toward her, but he was too far away to catch her. And down she went. Straight into a rosebush.
Deacon immediately regretted his harsh words. He didn’t mean to scare her. He inwardly groaned as he rushed over to her.
The first thing he spotted was blood. Little droplets of blood dotting her arms and legs from the thorny vines. And it was all his fault. Since when had he become such a growling old bear—so much like the father that he swore he would never turn into. And yet it had happened...
Take care of G
abrielle. There it was again. Her aunt’s last dying wish. He was certainly doing a dismal job of it.
As he drew near her, he watched as Gabrielle struggled to sit up. Her movements only succeeded in making the situation worse and a pained moan crossed her lips.
“Don’t move,” he said, coming to a stop next to her.
This was one of the rosebushes he hadn’t gotten to. The limbs were long and unruly. He pulled the shears from his back pocket and hastily cut the bush. He worked diligently to free her.
And then he had her in his arms. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She sniffled but she refused to give in to the pain. Her strength impressed Deacon. He was used to women who lashed out or gave in to the tears. Gabrielle was stoic—or perhaps stubborn fit her better.
He started toward the house with her in his arms.
“I can walk,” she insisted.
“I’ve got you.”
“Put me down.” There was steely strength in her voice and the unshed tears were now gone.
He hesitated, not wanting to put her down. To his detriment, he liked holding her close. She was light and curvy.
And she smelled like strawberries. His gaze lowered to her lips. They were berry-pink and just right for the picking. He forgot about their awkward circumstances and the fact that he hadn’t shaved or had a haircut in months.
In that moment, all he wanted to do was pull her closer and press his mouth to hers. Her lips were full and shimmered with lip gloss. It had been so very long since he’d been with a woman—
“Now.” Her voice cut through his wayward thoughts.
When his gaze rose up to meet her eyes, she stared up at him with determination. Did she know where his thoughts had drifted? He hoped not. Having her know that he was attracted to her would just make this uncomfortable arrangement unbearable. He lowered her feet to the ground.
“Come with me.” This time he was the one issuing orders and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
He led the way into the darkened house. He knew that in its day the house was impressive, but now the blinds were lowered and dust covered most everything. But it didn’t matter to him. He never spent time on the first floor. He stuck to his suite of rooms. And that’s where he led Gabrielle.
Into the expansive foyer with its white marble floor and large crystal chandelier. He turned toward the sweeping staircase that curved as it led to the second floor.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To get you cleaned and bandaged.”