Page 40 of Not Just Any Earl
But the temple wasn’t what had made Emmeline gasp.
It was the roses. Dozens upon dozens of them spilling from stone pots and trellises in a dazzling cascade of blooms. They were all of the same species, all of them such a faint, delicate pink the sunlight turned them translucent, as if the petals had been fashioned from the thinnest pearl white shells.
Emmeline seemed to be frozen in place, so Johnathan urged her forward until they were standing amidst the riotous tumble of roses. She turned in a circle, her smoky blue eyes wide, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe, watching her.
The roses, the sunlight, the pure white stone—none of it could compare to her. She was the most beautiful thing in any garden, the most beautiful lady he’d ever seen.
“Do you…” Johnathan began, but he was obliged to clear the sudden hoarseness from his throat. “Do you know these roses?”
She turned to him, her lips curving in a smile of such pure delight he thought might fall to his knees for her.
Then, on the heels of that thought…
I already have.
“I’ve only seen them in a book, but I believe they’re Baronet Hume’s Blush Tea-Scented China roses. I’ve read about them, but they only bloomed in England for the first time about a decade ago, and I’ve never seen them growing in a garden before.”
Her pleasure in the roses was contagious, and Johnathan found himself grinning like a fool. “And their scent? My guess is that it’s reminiscent of tea.”
“Yes, strongly of black tea. Come, shall we see for ourselves?” She grasped his hand, her long fingers tucked into his palm, and Johnathan followed after her, scolding his heart for beating with such wild hope at her touch when she didn’t even seem aware she’d taken his hand.
She led him along behind her until they reached the two benches, where a particularly lush spill of blooms nestled among a bed of bright green leaves. “Oh! They have a lovely scent, do they not?”
“A lovely scent, and wicked thorns.” Johnathan cautiously fingered one of the stems. “Are the blooms very heavy? The head of the rose is bent, as if it’s nodding off to sleep.”
“Sleeping, or weeping, yes. See how thin the canes are? They’re too weak to fully support the large, dense blooms, and so they weep.”
Johnathan tipped up one of the nodding blooms, as if he were tipping up its chin, then let it nod again, a smile drifting across his lips. “Well, I can’t say I approve of pouting, but they’re charming this way, aren’t they?”
“I can’t imagine them any other way. What a joy, to have a chance to see them! The plates in my books don’t do them justice.” Emmeline traced a reverent finger around the edges of one of the blooms. “I’d love to have one to press. I don’t imagine I’ll get the chance to see one again.”
“I’m certain Lady Hammond wouldn’t mind sharing one of her roses with you.” Johnathan waved a hand at the thick curtain of blossoms surrounding them. “She has plenty, as you can see.”
“What, steal one of Lady Hammond’s roses? I couldn’t possibly do such a thing, and anyway, I couldn’t bear to ruin one by cutting it.”
“We don’t need to cut one. There must be a few that have fallen…ah, yes.” Johnathan bent and retrieved several blooms that had dropped from the trellis to the ground. “Here, you may have your choice.”
Emmeline bit her lip. “Is it truly all right, do you suppose?”
“Yes, I do.” Johnathan held out the roses, and after a little hesitation, she plucked one from his palm.
He raised the other to his nose, inhaling deeply, and the spicy scent of black tea filled his head. “There’s another scent there, but I can’t identify it. Is it some sort of fruit?”
He brought the rose close to her face, holding it steady while her pert little nose—which was quite the most adorable nose he’d ever seen—twitched delicately. Her cheeks were flushed with sunshine and pleasure, and her lips parted as the scent of black tea filled the air between them, as if she were tasting the scent on her tongue.
Desire pooled in his belly, his stomach muscles tightening at the warm pulse of it, his limbs going heavy and lazy as he watched her from under half-lowered lids.
“Citrus, I think, or perhaps…” She trailed off as her eyes met his. A blush colored her cheeks and rushed down the long line of her neck.
“Perhaps?” Johnathan’s gaze followed that bewitching blush, and settled on the pulse fluttering in the soft, tempting hollow of her throat.
Dear God, he could become obsessed with her neck, her throat—
“Perhaps…raspberry?” she whispered, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip.
Gently, he brushed the delicate petals of the rose in his hand across her lips, and stifled a groan as they parted further.
“Raspberry?” Yes. Plump, sweet red raspberries.
