Read Online Secret Garden by Cathryn Parry - Free Book Online Page B

you tea, as it will be another ten minutes before he arrives.” He turned to leave.
    “Wait,” Colin said.
    Paul turned, his brow raised. Honestly, Colin just hadn’t wanted to be left waiting again.
    “Ah... Malcolm...he’s the CEO of Sage Family Products now?” The major body-care corporation that his mother had talked about. The one that gave endorsements to professional athletes.
    “No, he’s the president,” Paul explained patiently. “Mr. John Sage, Rhiannon’s uncle, is the CEO.”
    * * *
    R HIANNON SAT ON the stairs, observing Colin and Paul. Ironically, she’d curled up near the spot where she and Colin had peeked through a lattice screen. The staircase had been renovated with modern railings, and now a restored tapestry concealed her from view. But there was one threadbare place in the material that she could peer through.
    She’d never expected Colin to return, or to ask to see her. She’d thought she’d scared him away. Part of her had hoped that he would stay away; that would be for the best, after all.
    But then she’d been informed by the guard observing the cameras that Colin was approaching the castle. And now, watching him in person...
    She put her hand to her lips, filled with amusement by his sweet but bumbling reaction to Paul’s stiff formality. Her family hadn’t used the services of a butler all those years ago, and it seemed that Colin wasn’t sure about how to react to this foreign ritual. But he was gamely trying to put himself in Paul’s good graces.
    And what about the funeral he mentioned? She hadn’t been aware of anything happening to his father. Then again, she hadn’t spoken to Jessie in a few weeks. Jamie, either. She’d been wrapped up in finishing her painting.
    “Poor Colin,” she murmured. It must be terrible.
    She was answered with a peeved meow . The cat in her arms had followed along behind her, more dog than catlike in his behavior. She’d been petting him when Paul arrived with the tea cart.
    Now the cat struggled; he knew that the tinkling of china meant fresh cream, and Colin the cat lived for fresh cream. But she normally didn’t let him have much, because he tended to get gassy. Rhiannon stood, intent on sneaking off, carrying her cat back to her painting studio with her, but he jumped down with a loud thud .
    “Colin,” she whispered at him.
    Colin veered from her and darted off on his short legs as best he could—admittedly, not quickly these days—down the staircase, across the tartan carpeting and toward his namesake.
    Rhiannon groaned and covered her head. Below her, Colin the cat sat by Colin the human’s feet. The cat posed in a regal position and begged for cream with his most entitled meow .
    “Colin, stop that!” Paul scolded.
    “Excuse me?” Colin the human said.
    “Colin,” Paul said to the cat, and he bent to pick him up. “You know you don’t belong here,” he admonished her pet in a singsong voice.
    “Wait a minute,” Colin said. “Did you just call that cat by my name?”
    “No,” Paul said stiffly, drawing himself up. “You share a name with Rhiannon’s cat.”
    “Rhiannon’s cat?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Here, pretty baby.” Colin patted his lap, and her cat obliged, jumping up on him. Again, as best he could, given his age. The little devil would attempt anything to poach cream.
    “How old is he?” Colin asked Paul.
    “He’s twenty-one, I believe,” Paul said.
    Colin was silent for a moment. Then he drew his hand along Colin’s fur, petting him. “I never knew about him.” Maybe Rhiannon imagined it, but she thought Colin looked misty-eyed.
    Rhiannon sat again. Colin’s letter was in her pocket. Quietly, she opened the envelope and unfolded the note inside. In a careful hand, he’d written:
Rhiannon, I’m sorry I offended you this morning. You were once an important friend of mine, and I don’t want to lose that. Please forgive me. Colin.
    Rhiannon touched it lovingly. Oh, what she had wished