“What—where are you—Theo, what if the men who tried to break in are still out here somewhere?”
“Shh.” Theo silenced her with a quick kiss. “They are long gone by now. I’m sure of it. Coffey would not risk being found in our garden. Now, come…”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her down the steps and along the path into the garden. They wound through the garden and finally reached the rose arbor.
Latticework frames arched over an earthen pathway, and rose bushes, years and years old, grew up and over the latticework, thick with flowers of all sizes and colors. In the day it was a cool, pleasant retreat. At night it was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the climbing roses.
Theo laid out the afghan upon the earth floor, and he pulled Megan down upon it with him. Petals were scattered all over the earth around them, and their heady aroma filled the air.
They knelt, facing each other, and Theo reached up to take the pins from Megan’s hair, letting it tumble in soft curls around her shoulders. He slid his hands into her hair, and leaned forward to kiss her, his lips soft and tantalizing on hers.
“Is this all right?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.
“It’s perfect,” Megan answered, sliding her arms around his neck.
And so they made love there, amid the rose petals, the moonlight dappling their naked skin, their sighs and moans lost in the soft darkness, their passion flowing, circling ever higher, until at last they were lost together in a final, shattering explosion of pleasure.
Afterward, Theo wrapped the thin blanket around them, and they lay together, legs entwined, Megan’s head cradled on his shoulder, as they talked and dozed, sated. Megan did not know what lay in the future, or even what the morrow would bring, but there and then, cocooned in the soft summer night, she knew she had never been happier.
*
MEGAN WENT DOWN to breakfast late the next morning. Indeed, she realized, with a glance at the clock on the sideboard, that it was closer to luncheon than breakfast time. She flushed, remembering the reason that she had slept so late that morning—she had gotten little sleep the night before, slipping in the back door of the house with Theo only a little before dawn.
She found no one but Theo in the breakfast room, and he rose with a smile, his eyes lighting up.
“Hello,” he said, coming around the table to pull out her chair for her. Bending down, he murmured in her ear, “I have been hanging about drinking coffee until I am sure the servants think I am mad, hoping that you would come in.”
Megan smiled to herself and cast a glance toward the sideboard, where a footman stood ready to serve her tea.
Theo went back around to sit down across from her. “I told the twins to go ahead with their lessons alone this morning,” he went on. “I think we have too much to do today for you to work with them.”
Megan nodded and took a sip of tea. “We need to talk to Mr. Coffey.”
“And I would like a closer look at the basement of the museum.”
“Yes.” Megan got up to browse through the chafing dishes lined up on the sideboard and chose what she wanted. When she returned and set her plate on the table before her, she went on, “Most interesting of all, perhaps—we need to interview Lady Scarle.”
Theo grinned wickedly. “Ah, yes. I thought that would be the highlight of your day.”
Megan nodded as she tucked into her eggs with gusto.
“The only question is, what shall we do first?”
They discussed the matter as Megan ate and had still not made a decision when another of the footmen came to the door and paused on the threshold.
“My lord?”
Theo glanced up at him, something in the footman’s voice alerting him. “Yes? What is it?”
“There is…a person here who claims to know you,” the footman said carefully.
Even Megan, unused to the subtleties of the English servant’s demeanor, caught the tone of disapproval in the footman’s voice. Whoever was requesting admittance was clearly someone whom the servant did not think belonged here—or shouldn’t be speaking to Lord Raine.
“Who is it?”
“I do not know, sir. He refused to tell me his name. He said that he wanted to speak only to you. He is…well, rather oddly dressed.”
“Indeed? You intrigue me, Robert. Show him in.”
“My lord…” He paused, polite distress clear on his face.
Theo said, “Perhaps I should go out to see him.”
The footman’s face cleared. “I think that would be best, sir.”
Theo glanced at Megan and smiled. “Care to come?”
“After that? You couldn’t keep me away.” Megan joined him.
They followed Robert’s rigid back down the hall and into the large formal entryway of Broughton House. A man and a boy stood there, with another of the Morelands’ footmen eyeing the two as if they might at any moment make off with some of the furniture.
The man and child were indeed an odd sight. They wore leather sandals on their bare feet, the straps wrapping up around their calves halfway to their knees. Above the sandals, their legs were bare to a bit above the knee, where the fringe of their brightly colored tunics dangled. The tunics hung straight from their shoulders, with holes for their arms, and were woven in a checkerboard fashion, each square containing geometric designs in orange and brown. The man wore a wide gold band around one bared bicep.
The boy looked to be about eight or nine. His skin was tanned, and his large, liquid eyes were a deep, dark brown. His thick black hair hung straight as a board down to his shoulders, with short bangs adorning his forehead. The man’s hair was also long, but was pulled up to the crown of his head and caught in a leather thong wrapped around it for three or four inches, with the rest of his hair spilling out from it. His coloring, however, was different from the boy’s—his skin several shades lighter, and his eyes not the color of chocolate but a light brown with an undertone of cinnamon. His hair, too, was lighter, with a hint of red, and it curled rather than hung straight. He looked to be perhaps twenty.
The younger visitor regarded Megan and Theo with stony suspicion. The older one smiled as he looked at Theo.
“Hello, Th—” His gaze shifted to Megan, and his jaw dropped. “Megan?”
Megan felt as if her stomach had turned to ice. She stared at the man, unable to speak.
“Bloody hell!” Theo rasped out. “My God—Dennis? Is that you?”
The man smiled a little crookedly. “Yes. It is I. I came because, well, you always said you would help me if I ever needed it. And I need it now.”
“Dennis!” Tears shimmered in Megan’s eyes, and suddenly her locked knees were able to move again. She flung herself forward, straight into her brother’s arms. “I thought you were dead!”
The young man wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly to him. “Ah, Megan, it’s good to see you.”
Theo stepped forward, exclaiming, “So it was you in the garden last night!”