Cold as Ice - Anne Stuart [116]
Good God, had Madame Lambert sold the place behind his back? He wouldn’t put it past her since she’d already told him he didn’t belong here. The table in front of him looked familiar, but it could belong to someone else. He walked through into the study, to see that his grandfather’s huge desk was still there. With a sewing machine on top of it.
Left turn and down two steps to the kitchen. He could see new dishes in the glass-door cupboards, and someone had installed a dishwasher. He stared at it in amazement, then looked out the kitchen door to the gardens beyond.
They were beautiful. The flowers were a riot of color, waving in the soft summer breeze, and he could smell the scent of wild roses. He’d been dreaming about that, but he couldn’t remember there being any wild roses nearby.
He turned the corner and saw them both at once. The newly planted rosebush that somehow, miraculously, was blooming, the flowers giving off a heady scent.
And the woman kneeling in the garden, her back to him, a straw hat covering her head, shielding her face from the bright sunlight.
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but she must have sensed his presence, because she turned around, push- ing the hat off her head so that her blond hair tumbled down around her shoulders. And she actually blushed.
“Oh,” Genevieve said. “I didn’t realize you were here.” She got up hurriedly, stripping off her gloves and brushing the dirt off the flowery dress she was wearing. “I know I probably look ridiculous, but I couldn’t figure out what English women wore when they gardened, and Laura Ashley seemed oddly appropriate, except that I think I’ve ruined three different dresses…” Her nervous babble trailed off.
He took a couple of steps toward her, so she could see his limp, and stopped.
She didn’t know what to say. For the first time in his memory words had finally failed her, and it was all he could do not to smile. He just stood there, watching her, waiting.
“Well,” she said in a brisk voice after a moment, “I’m glad you finally decided to come home. I’m not sure if I’ve got enough for dinner, but I can always head out to the grocers. What are you in the mood for?”
He didn’t answer, simply because his answer would have shocked her.
She came closer. “Aren’t you going to say something?” she said. “Ask me why I’m here? Tell me to go away?”
“No,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because this is where you belong.” And he reached for her, in the bright summer sunshine, and she came into his arms, into his heart, into his life. Forever.
Also by
Anne Stuart
THE DEVIL’S WALTZ
BLACK ICE
INTO THE FIRE
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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Published in Great Britain 2011.
MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR
© Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge 2006
ISBN: 978-1-408-92908-7
63-0111