Read Online Married to the Viscount by Sabrina Jeffries - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sabrina Jeffries
Ads: Link
an idiot.
Thank God. Because if she accepted his proposition, the two of them would be in each other’s pockets for some weeks, and he couldn’t tolerate stupidity.
When he strode out into the garden, he didn’t see her at first. He’d paid a great deal of money for the luxury of gardens that were more substantial than those of the average London house. But as he stalked the pebble paths, glancing under trees and down pleasure walks, he was startled to come upon her where he least expected—in the portion of the garden reserved for the kitchen.
Bonnetless and still clothed in that ghastly black, she bent over a patch of greenery, tenderly moving stalks of plants aside in a methodical manner. Sunlight glinted off her jet hair, and her cheeks looked as satiny pink as rose petals, but it was her uptilted derriere that most tempted him. He had to tamp down a violent urge to lift her skirts and see if her other cheeks were as soft and pink as rose petals.
“What the devil are you doing?” he snapped, annoyed at the effect she always had on him.
When she looked up and saw him there, she straightened, a smile breaking over her face. “I’m looking for rosemary.”
“Who’s Rosemary?”
She chuckled. “It’s a plant, my lord. You know—like thyme and borage?”
“Ah, yes. A plant. And why are you looking for a plant in my gardens at this time of the morning, pray tell?”
Mischief glinted in her eyes. “Where would you suggest I look for a plant? Maybe in your study? Or your dining room? Though I suppose—”
“Miss Mercer,” he said sternly, “you know what I meant.”
He regretted his sharp words when the light died in her face. “Yes.” She brushed dirt off her gloved hands, her tone turning practical. “I need rosemary for the Mead. My personal vial of it went missing last night after you used it on me. I have only one other bottle, so I need to mix up some more. I brought all the ingredients for it with me, but the rosemary is best if it’s fresh, so I decided to see if your kitchen garden had some.”
“And you didn’t think to ask one of the servants?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me talking to the servants. So I figured I’d find the rosemary myself and avoid bothering them.”
He couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’d have been better off talking to them, considering that they’ve been searching for you for the past half hour.”
A tiny frown graced her eloquent brow. “Whyever for?”
“Because I wanted to speak with you.” He gestured to the garden path. “Come, walk with me. After we’ve had our discussion, I’ll tell Cook to get you all the rosemary you require. All right?”
Removing her soiled gloves, she stuffed them into one apron pocket. “As long as you don’t mind if I eat breakfast while we talk.”
“Breakfast?”
She drew a pear out of her other apron pocket and brandished it before him. “I stole this from your breakfast room. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re my guest, and hosts generally do feed their guests, you know.”
Her natural ebullience returning, she flashed him an impish smile. “Even when their guests have landed them in a most delicate predicament?”
“Especially then. Well-fed guests make less trouble.”
Biting into the pear, she walked off down the path. “Doyou get a lot of guests trying to make trouble for you?”
He followed beside her. None as fetching as you . “Not recently. And about our particular trouble—”
“Before you say any more, let me assure you that I’m not going to fight you over dissolving a clearly nonexistent marriage. I want nothing from you but the money your brother took.” She stopped to pluck a lilac from the shrubs lining the path, then tucked it behind her ear. “You don’t have to pay it all right away, but if you could give me a little now, I can wait for the rest until you find your brother.”
Giving her money and watching her trot off God knew
Thank God. Because if she accepted his proposition, the two of them would be in each other’s pockets for some weeks, and he couldn’t tolerate stupidity.
When he strode out into the garden, he didn’t see her at first. He’d paid a great deal of money for the luxury of gardens that were more substantial than those of the average London house. But as he stalked the pebble paths, glancing under trees and down pleasure walks, he was startled to come upon her where he least expected—in the portion of the garden reserved for the kitchen.
Bonnetless and still clothed in that ghastly black, she bent over a patch of greenery, tenderly moving stalks of plants aside in a methodical manner. Sunlight glinted off her jet hair, and her cheeks looked as satiny pink as rose petals, but it was her uptilted derriere that most tempted him. He had to tamp down a violent urge to lift her skirts and see if her other cheeks were as soft and pink as rose petals.
“What the devil are you doing?” he snapped, annoyed at the effect she always had on him.
When she looked up and saw him there, she straightened, a smile breaking over her face. “I’m looking for rosemary.”
“Who’s Rosemary?”
She chuckled. “It’s a plant, my lord. You know—like thyme and borage?”
“Ah, yes. A plant. And why are you looking for a plant in my gardens at this time of the morning, pray tell?”
Mischief glinted in her eyes. “Where would you suggest I look for a plant? Maybe in your study? Or your dining room? Though I suppose—”
“Miss Mercer,” he said sternly, “you know what I meant.”
He regretted his sharp words when the light died in her face. “Yes.” She brushed dirt off her gloved hands, her tone turning practical. “I need rosemary for the Mead. My personal vial of it went missing last night after you used it on me. I have only one other bottle, so I need to mix up some more. I brought all the ingredients for it with me, but the rosemary is best if it’s fresh, so I decided to see if your kitchen garden had some.”
“And you didn’t think to ask one of the servants?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me talking to the servants. So I figured I’d find the rosemary myself and avoid bothering them.”
He couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’d have been better off talking to them, considering that they’ve been searching for you for the past half hour.”
A tiny frown graced her eloquent brow. “Whyever for?”
“Because I wanted to speak with you.” He gestured to the garden path. “Come, walk with me. After we’ve had our discussion, I’ll tell Cook to get you all the rosemary you require. All right?”
Removing her soiled gloves, she stuffed them into one apron pocket. “As long as you don’t mind if I eat breakfast while we talk.”
“Breakfast?”
She drew a pear out of her other apron pocket and brandished it before him. “I stole this from your breakfast room. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re my guest, and hosts generally do feed their guests, you know.”
Her natural ebullience returning, she flashed him an impish smile. “Even when their guests have landed them in a most delicate predicament?”
“Especially then. Well-fed guests make less trouble.”
Biting into the pear, she walked off down the path. “Doyou get a lot of guests trying to make trouble for you?”
He followed beside her. None as fetching as you . “Not recently. And about our particular trouble—”
“Before you say any more, let me assure you that I’m not going to fight you over dissolving a clearly nonexistent marriage. I want nothing from you but the money your brother took.” She stopped to pluck a lilac from the shrubs lining the path, then tucked it behind her ear. “You don’t have to pay it all right away, but if you could give me a little now, I can wait for the rest until you find your brother.”
Giving her money and watching her trot off God knew
Similar Books
