Secret Garden (10 page)

“I admit it’s been years,” she said, “and I was feeling daring in pushing the limits, but yes, that’s what the beginning of a panic attack looks like.”

“But then I laughed at you, and shocked you by asking about your kids, and that stopped it, right?”

Her lips twitched again. “I beg your pardon, but you’re not that powerful. And you really were an eejit to me. So I think it’s best we stop this conversation while we’re ahead, or you’ll be writing me more notes and picking more of Jessie’s flowers. Is that understood?” She smiled sweetly at him.

Colin burst into laughter. And from the spark in her eyes, he knew she was laughing inside, too.

That
was the Rhiannon he remembered. A little bit sassy. A little bit sweet. Always holding her own.

Colin the cat had brushed up against Colin’s ankles, so he stooped to pick him up. “Okay, Rhiannon. But I have one more proposition for you.” He smiled back at her, scratching behind her cat’s ear.

She folded her arms. “Put my cat down. The answer is no, I’m not leaving this property with you. In fact, I’m saying goodbye to you now.”

“You haven’t heard my idea yet.”

“It’s clear what you want me to do, Colin. But I have boundaries that you need to respect.” Shaking her head, she turned on her heel.

“So you’re telling me you don’t
dare
to go to our clearing in the forest, just a hundred yards away, and have a picnic with me and Jessie, the lady who’s lived on your estate for thirty-some years?” he called to her.

“Dare?”
Rhiannon turned. “I don’t
dare
?”

He grinned. He’d hoped she would be incensed by that, because that was the old Rhiannon’s personality.

“Yes, come and have dinner on the grounds with Jessie and me,” he said. “If you dare.”

She sighed. “It’s not a matter of daring, Colin.”

“I don’t see why not. Because according to your own rules, how is there any danger of having a panic attack while you’re in the middle of the estate grounds with Jessie?” He stared at her. “Unless you’re telling me you’ve lost your courage and you’re really just afraid.”

* * *

A
FRAID?

Rhiannon paused on the steps, shock filling her.

Nobody spoke to her this way. Nobody dared to question her when she expressed what she needed, even if he was doing it in a friendly, joking tone.

For years she’d had therapists, and she supposed that Malcolm had, too—even living away in America at a boarding school. At the time, Malcolm had been forced to leave Scotland because of the attention he’d received over what had happened to them. Rhiannon, by refusing to leave the castle, had been spared that.

With her therapists’ help, she’d come a long way since then. Initially, she’d been catatonic. She hadn’t spoken to anyone—she’d only painted, her first treatment. Then, in her teens, she’d asked to stop seeing the therapists. She’d wanted to be independent—and now she was. She’d organized her life as she’d needed it, as she’d pleased. As she’d been forced to accommodate her disability of sorts. So why was Colin pushing her?

Behind her, Malcolm hovered, furious but silent, respecting her wish to speak for herself, at least when it came to Colin. Still, she’d been well aware that Malcolm had been ready to spring at the slightest misstep on Colin’s part. And then when he’d mentioned the “breaking your camera” bit, she thought Malcolm would explode.

But this was her fight. Not Malcolm’s. If she was to live as a free, controlled, peaceful woman—the perfect agoraphobic she claimed to be—then she needed to take charge.

She
did
need to talk with Jessie, actually, about the funeral plans, at least. Jamie was a longtime employee of her parents’ estate, which Rhiannon would someday inherit. She might as well get used to taking charge of some of her mother’s responsibilities now, while her parents were gone.

She considered Colin. That gleam in his eye—oh, it was maddening, but she would squelch it if she needed to. Somehow the two of them had connected again, though she was getting the feeling that the man he’d become was no more complicated than the boy she’d known and adored when she’d been a girl.

“You see, Colin,” she chided, “this is exactly why I never wanted you to be told about me. You prefer me as I was then and not as I am now. How am I to compete with that? You’re not listening to me, are you?”

* * *

“
Y
ES,
I
’M LISTENING
to you. And I like you exactly as you are,” he said.
Keep it light.
“That’s why I’ve come up with a brilliant plan. You won’t be anywhere near the property lines. That clearing where the picnic tables used to be—are they still there?”

“Y-y-yes...”

“Great.” He nodded. “Then I’ll pull together a basket from the house and bring it up there like we used to. You don’t have to bring anything. We’ll keep it low-key and simple.”

She still seemed skeptical. But skeptical was an improvement over angry or terrified.

He smiled at her. “My grandmother would love to see us both together, like old times. If you’d like, I’m sure Jamie will come, too.” Though Colin sort of doubted that his grandfather would be thrilled about sitting down to a picnic with him, he was on a roll, making up plans on the fly. Since Malcolm was still glowering at him, he figured
why not?
and included him, as well. “Malcolm is invited, too, if he wants.” He grinned at Malcolm. “
Do
you want to come?”

Malcolm glared at Colin, then looked helplessly at Rhiannon.

Rhiannon’s brow wrinkled.

“We’ll only talk about good stuff,” Colin promised. “Nothing heavy—we’ll just catch up.”
No funeral talk, no agoraphobia talk.
“You won’t have to worry about leaving the property or bumping into anybody you don’t know.”

“I don’t know, Colin...”

“It’ll be okay, Rhi,” he said quietly. “How about if you try it, and if you decide you don’t like it, then you can leave right away?”

She expelled a breath. “When?” she asked hesitantly.

She’d almost said yes.
His heart sped up, but he tried not to show it. “Ah, we’ll make it an early dinner.” That would give him time to talk with Jessie about it and win her support.

And Mack’s, too.

The tee time that Mack had set up for them was in a town not too far away. A local course, but not the tiny municipality club where Colin and Rhiannon had played as children. Colin would do some chipping drills, too, but then...he would beg off from hanging out with Mack at his pub for dinner tonight. It wouldn’t be good for Rhiannon to be exposed to too many people.

“How about six-thirty?” Colin asked. That was early enough to give them a few hours of light before sunset.

Her mouth twisted. She was wavering again.

“Please come, Rhiannon.” He sighed and made his final appeal. “I’m leaving on Sunday night, so we won’t have too many chances together. After this, if you want, you can say the word, and I promise not to bother you again.”

* * *

S
HE FELT A
wee bit angry, because Colin knew perfectly well she didn’t want to go, and why. And yet he kept pushing her.

But she was so tempted when she heard him say the word
together
.

As always, Colin drew her in. He fascinated her. Amazed her. Sometimes made her laugh. She couldn’t
not
listen to him.

Besides, she had a duty that she needed to fulfill. If she ever expected to someday be a successor to the lady of the castle, with the same grace and capability of her mum—despite her agoraphobia—then she needed to start somewhere. Truly, there were no better people to start with than Colin and his family—for the friends they’d once been, and for the friend they needed now. She should go with Colin because his dad had passed away and she was sorry for that. Sorry for Jessie and Jamie, as well.

She nodded shakily to Colin, who’d been waiting for her answer. She supposed she could be nudged to go with him just this once. But whatever happened, she wouldn’t get attached to him again. He was leaving in a few days, after the funeral, and would never be part of her life again.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “But only if you make the dinner for tomorrow night, not tonight.”

That would give her the chance to prepare. This new role of
lady
felt so shaky and scary that she needed time to sit peacefully with her thoughts and process it all better.

“Sounds great.” He gave her a lopsided smile, meeting her eyes directly. “Thank you, Rhi. I promise I won’t argue if you feel uncomfortable with it.”

She nodded curtly. She only hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

Breathing heavily, she lifted her chin and with dignity, she left. But this time, she walked down the stairs, away from Malcolm. Scooping up her cat and brushing past Colin, she headed directly to the back entrance. She didn’t want to talk with her brother, didn’t yet want to have the necessary conversation with Paul about calling
her
when there was a problem, and not Malcolm, who didn’t even live there anymore.

Instead, she went outside, through the courtyard and into the building that was hers alone, the place that held her art studio.

Usually, this was her sanctuary. Today, though, all she could do was go to the window and watch for Colin as he departed, striding back through the moor and toward the guard’s cottage.

Colin was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was athletic. He was sexy. The way he moved his body did something to her. It was why she’d hesitated saying yes for those extra seconds. From now on, when she thought of Colin, she would never see the boy that he’d been. She would see him as he was now. With broad shoulders. A set chin. A mouth that quirked. That ever-present twinkle in his eyes.

Pacing, she sought to shrug him off. Slough him out of her aura.

But it was time to work, so she sat at her easel, which was the place where she went to lose herself, and therefore to feel calm again.

It didn’t happen.

Restless, she turned away. Picking at the small bandage on her palm, she reached for a sketch pad and a pencil. She found herself sketching the outlines of Colin’s face. Filling in the shape of his eyes. The placement of his laugh lines.

What was she doing? Shocked, she put her pencil down. She hadn’t drawn a human face since the weeks after she was rescued, at age eight, and had needed to record the features of the people who’d held her captive, and the gentle man who’d died while saving her.

That exercise had
hurt
. It was why she’d avoided making portraits since those days. She’d kept to her landscapes ever since then.

And now here she was, rendering Colin’s face.

Except, it didn’t hurt to draw him. Not even physically, from the cut on her palm. Sketching Colin was rather pleasurable.

Somehow that change in herself gave her courage. Maybe his visit wouldn’t be so bad after all.

CHAPTER SIX

R
HIANNON WAITED UNTIL
the next morning after Malcolm had left before confronting Paul.

She sat at her mother’s desk with her hands folded, the way her mother did when about to give directions to him.

Rhiannon didn’t know why she felt so nervous—she’d known their butler for the better part of her life. He was the one person she consistently broke bread with every day. This past week, they’d been the only two people living in the castle.

Perhaps it felt strange because
she’d
never been the person in charge of the castle before. It was so new. But it weighed on her that yesterday, when there’d been a real incident requiring a decision be made, she’d been overlooked in favor of someone who no longer even lived at the estate. Colin was wrong—she was
not
afraid of taking charge of her domain. It was a point of pride to her that she prove it to him.

“Miss?” Surprised, Paul stopped in the doorway, the early-morning sun making him blink. For a moment he hesitated, but he caught himself and proceeded to clasp his hands in front of him, the way he did with her mother. “Did you wish to speak to me?”

“I do.” She motioned to the chair in front of the desk, just as her mother would, and waited until he sat. “I’d prefer that you no longer call Malcolm when there’s an issue to be resolved. From now on, I’d like you to speak to me about it, at least until my parents return.”

“Ah.” Paul nodded. If he was surprised, he hid it well. “I see, miss.”

“I’m the one who’ll always be living here,” she continued. “You might be aware that a trust has been set up so this castle will remain my home—the only one I’ll ever have. I’ve decided that it’s best for all concerned, especially while my parents are away, that I take more of an interest in what happens on the grounds.”

“I understand,” he said gently.

She waited, but Paul didn’t move or venture to say anything more. Instead, he seemed to be listening.

“For example,” she explained, “I don’t want you to worry about interrupting my painting. If a matter comes up that needs my attention, then please do let me know, straightaway.”

Paul placed his fist in front of his mouth and made a small
harrumph
in his throat.

He looked so comical, she nearly smiled. But she didn’t, because this meeting was terribly serious, and he was behaving exactly as he did when her mother gave him direction.

“Yes, Paul?” she said calmly.

“I beg your pardon,” Paul replied, “but the laird requested before he left that I keep
Malcolm
informed as to any issues that may arise in his absence.”

“Did he?” Rhiannon murmured, her heart sinking. She really should have suspected as much. “Well, I’m asking you to please give me the chance to resolve any such issues
before
you bother Malcolm.” She eyed Paul. “I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request. My father would agree, were he in communication with us.”

Paul gazed at her blandly. It was hard to gauge reaction with their butler; he didn’t show much facial expression.