irst hint that he intended more than just an afternoon’s sport.
“Yes, later.” He gave no indication that he knew one word had changed her world. He drew in a shuddering breath and spoke more evenly as he laid the box in her lap. “This is for you.”
She didn’t want presents. She just wanted him. More, she wanted him to tell her that he was here to stay.
But clearly whatever the box contained was important to him. She made herself reach for it then she looked up. A lock of his fine black hair fell across his forehead and a ghost of a smile hovered. Her heart lurched with a wayward surge of love.
“What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
“Open it and see. The catch is on the side. I’m rather proud of the design. I came up with it myself.” He sounded relaxed, confident, in a way he never had before. Always before, his uncle’s evil had darkened the air. She only realized how much, now the shadows had lifted.
After a little fumbling, she raised the lid. Underneath was a frosted glass cover. She slid away the plate to reveal the contents.
“Oh, Matthew,” she whispered, moved to tears.
“I called it Grace. I hope you don’t mind.” For the first time, his manner held a hint of shyness, disconcerting in a man who had just made love to her without hesitation or reticence.
Gently, she curled her hand around what was inside the box and lifted it to the light. “It’s your rose.”
“No, it’s your rose.”
A heady fragrance filled the air. With one shaking finger, Grace touched a flawless pink petal. The color was unforgettable. It was the most beautiful rose she’d ever seen. Impossible to credit that those unpromising stalks in his courtyard had produced this exquisite bloom.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “It’s a miracle.”
He was a miracle. How could she not love the man who conjured this beauty with hands and imagination?
The faint smile broadened. Had he worried that she’d reject his gift? Foolish, darling Matthew. The question was whether the rose was a promise of a future or a token of parting.
“I worked on it whenever I could. This last year has been busy.”
An understatement, she knew. The Marquess of Sheene had been a ubiquitous presence in London since his release. Everywhere he went, society feted him as a hero. She’d read of the string of honors he’d received, the friendship with the king, the invitations to join scientific boards and societies.
Echoing her gesture, he reached out to touch the petals. The sensitivity of his fingers on the flower reminded her of his hands on her skin.
“I did most of the basic experiments when I was a prisoner, but I couldn’t get it right.” He glanced up with an expression that combined pride and diffidence in a breathtakingly attractive mixture. “This is the first bud, Grace. It appeared almost a year to the day after I promised to wait. It seemed a sign.”
“And you brought it to me,” she said softly, staring at the flower. The anniversary of his release didn’t occur for two more days. That date was etched on her longing heart.
Reverently, she set the rose back in its container. The glass kept the air inside moist and cool. No wonder Matthew was pleased with his design.
Then she noticed something else.
“My glove,” she said blankly. With unsteady hands, she reached in and withdrew a light green kidskin glove from a recess carved away from the damp. The buttery leather was crushed and worn from incessant handling. “Have you kept it all this time?”
“Of course.” He wasn’t smiling any more and his eyes deepened to a rich, rare gold. Beautiful, unwavering, somber.
“You make me want to cry.” Her voice emerged so thickly, she didn’t sound like herself.
She laid the box on the bench and tightened her grip on the soft leather until her knuckles whitened. What was he trying to tell her? What did the rose mean? The glove?
Had he carried her glove into his new life like a knight wore his lady’s favor into battle? The thought sent choking emotion to her throat.
“You are crying, my love,” he whispered and reached out to brush away a tear. His stare held a message but she was too keyed up to read it with any certainty. She needed a declaration but now that the time had come, she was too afraid to hear words that could crush her dreams.
Without really caring about his answer, she asked the first question that came into her mind. “How did you know where to find me this afternoon?”
“Your father told me,” he said quietly, not shifting his gaze from hers.