Page 43 of Four Promises to Love

You’re no good to anyone. No one loves you, and you’ll always be alone.

Thirteen

As Owen led Finn into the sun-drenched garden, apprehension gripped him. Usually, the outdoors brought him relief—like removing his cravat or boots after a long day—and this was especially true of the gardens at Bottoms House. When he’d first seen the grounds, they’d suffered from decades of neglect. Ivy and weeds had taken over, forming a tangled jungle that had suffocated other plants. Paths had disappeared, water features dried up, and the gazebo had been a rotted mess. Nature had taken over with gleeful chaos.

At loose ends, Owen had been wandering the grounds in search of a distraction when the kindly gardener had taken notice and put him to work. He’d enjoyed the physical labor, and no one was more surprised than he was to discover that he possessed an aptitude for landscaping. More importantly, the work brought him solace and satisfaction—the sense of purpose he’d been missing.

These grounds had been his first project, and he was proud of how they had turned out. The debris had been cleared, the ivy woven into an elegant tapestry for the manor’s walls. New boxwood hedges created neat borders, and the combed paths offered a meandering tour of the garden’s delights. There were sections of cultivated roses, lavender, and foxglove, along with patches of wildflowers to provide color and fragrance. The restored gazebo and fountain added points of interest.

Owen didn’t think of gardening as an art. To him, it was more of a negotiation. He had no desire to conquer the wilderness; he merely wanted to shape, coax, and balance it where he could. Sometimes nature agreed with his ideas; sometimes it had ideas of its own. He’d found beauty and joy in the ongoing compromise…and secretly wished that people were as easy to live with as plants.

As Finn stalked beside him, he was keenly aware of her dark mood. The years of captivity had made him attuned to bodily cues in the absence of language; even though she hadn’t spoken a word since they’d exited the manor, her irritation was as clear as the water bubbling in the nearby fountain.

Does she regret our night together?

The possibility was disheartening. For him, their lovemaking had been a revelation. In the past, he’d sought out depravity because it silenced his demons and anchored him in his skin. Other than the sharing of pleasure, he hadn’t thought much about his partners—hadn’t known them beyond the biblical sense, nor wished to. The transaction had felt safe…simple.

Finn was neither.

Yet with her, it wasn’t just bodily sensations he felt but…more.

He wasn’t sure she shared that feeling. She’d only promised him one night and left without saying goodbye. He understood her need for discretion, of course, but now that they were alone, he yearned for their budding intimacy. He wanted to flirt with her and ask if he could see her again. She, on the other hand, seemed like she would rather be anywhere but here with him. He winced as she kicked a pebble off the carefully combed path, catapulting it into the grass.

They arrived in silence at the part of the walk bordered by a boxwood hedge. As he struggled to broach the topic of their relationship, she ran her gloved fingertips over the trimmed top. With simmering heat, he remembered the sensual way she’d touched him. The memory faded when she closed her fingers around some tiny leaves and tore them from the bush. With mounting horror, he saw the bald spot she left in the border even as she seized another fistful of the hedge.

Hastily, he angled himself between her and the bush.

She looked at him, as if finally noticing his presence. “What are you doing?”

“Protecting this innocent boxwood. It has done nothing to deserve your ill temper.”

“I am not in an ill temper.” In the shade of her black bonnet, her flashing eyes contradicted her. “Kindly move aside.”

“Not until you tell me why you are angry.”

“I’m not angry,” she said through her teeth.

In for a penny.

“If you regret our assignation, say so. I will not plague you like some untrained puppy.”

He had more pride than that…he hoped.

She dropped her gaze, muttering, “I didn’t say I regretted anything.”

He felt a stab of relief. That was something, at least.

“Then why are you so cross?” he asked.

“Why are you so nosy?” she retorted.

His own temper sparked. “If you wish to be left alone, just say so.”

He hated this kind of silent tension, which had nearly destroyed his relationship with Ethan. Owen had tried to apologize to his brother—but how could mere words make up for the harm he’d done? For what he’d taken from Ethan, who’d only tried to help him? The things left unsaid had made being in the same room an exercise in torture. By some miracle, Ethan had eventually forgiven him. While Owen was grateful, he knew he didn’t deserve it—and he would never forgive himself.

Yet the present situation was different. As far as Owen knew, he hadn’t done anything to deserve Finn’s cold shoulder. While he was quick to grasp the mechanics of gardening—the optimal levels of moisture and light for various plants, what needed to be pruned—the workings of the female mind remained, to him, nature’s greatest mystery.

“Did I do something to annoy you?” he asked bluntly.