He chuckled again at her story. “I would never judge the serious name of a serious dog, Your Grace.”
“Well, we reached the top of the hill behind the estate, and I lost my footing and tumbled, just rolled down this hill, still shouting for the dogs all the way down.” She shook her head, eyes lit up with mirth. “Somehow I managed not to break or bruise anything beyond my pride. But my tumble caught their attention, and as I sit up, covered in grass and dirt, here come five now filthy dogs racing back and they just all crowd on top of me, licking and bouncing.”
“Oh no!” Valaria gasped, holding her sides from laughter. “Did you manage to get them back up to the house?”
“I suppose they took pity on me and followed me back up. I came into the foyer and Stuart was passing through and looked me up and down. I told him what happened and he said, Oh yes, no one trusts those dogs, Flora. Then he patted each of their heads and they waddled off after him, back to being old men.”
Flora had done an impression of his uncle’s voice and it made Roarke laugh even harder because it was remarkably spot on.
“Did you ever take them out in the garden without leads again?” he asked.
She nodded. “Of course! I saw how happy they were to be free, and I did it all the time after that.” She sighed. “They were excellent dogs, if a bit crafty.”
They all laughed again and once again, Roarke basked in the warmth of Flora’s light, of her kindness and sweetness, her humor. Sometimes it felt as though he had a constant pressure on his chest, a persistent reminder of his failures and responsibilities. But here with her, he didn’t feel it quite so keenly. He might not deserve that respite, but it felt like a balm on his soul.
He cleared his throat and shifted his attention toward Valaria, who he found already watching him like a hawk. “You have a lovely home, Valaria.”
“Thank you,” she said with a slight incline of her head. It was evident by the way she was always watching and reading him that she didn’t fully trust his motives. He deserved that, of course. “Since we’ve just been talking of gardens, what do you think of mine, Mr. Desmond?”
He blinked. While Flora’s story had involved a garden, they hadn’t really been talking about a garden. “Er, it’s quite lovely.”
They all looked out over the area in question. Of course, it was fall now and much of the beauty was muted with the leaves fallen and flowers deadheaded and ready for their winter rest.
“Perhaps you’d like to walk in it,” Valaria said. “I’ll show you my roses.”
He blinked. The dead roses? And yet she didn’t truly seem to be requesting he join her, but demanding it. “I’m sure that would be pleasant.”
Flora had started to shift in her chair when Valaria turned her sharp expression on him, and now she leaned forward. “What a lovely idea for all of us. We could walk—”
Valaria lifted a hand. “Oh no, I think Callum wished to speak to you about something, Flora. Mr. Desmond and I can take this little jaunt together while you do that.” She stood. “Come now.”
He stood because there was no denying her, it seemed, and followed the duchess to the edge of the veranda where a short set of stone stairs led to the garden below. At the top he looked back to find Flora watching with a concerned expression on her face, which did nothing to quell his own nervousness.
But the duchess didn’t launch into an attack, at least at first. They walked together through her brown garden, the cool autumn breeze stirring against his face. Finally, Valaria stopped and pivoted to face him. “I don’t know how to be anything but direct anymore, Mr. Desmond. What are your intentions with my friend?”
He blinked. “Er, yes, that is direct,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“Well, I must be,” she said, and shrugged. “Flora deserves the world. And she has few people on her side. Her husband’s dreadful family would destroy her if they could find a way.”
He flinched as he thought of his cousins and their cruel intentions toward her. He hadn’t meant to outwardly show that, but Valaria immediately arched a brow.
“Has she told you about them?” she asked. “You seem to know.”
He nodded. “Er, yes. I know about her stepchildren. I know about their cruelty.”
She seemed surprised, but to his relief she didn’t pursue his knowledge about his cousins. Instead she folded her arms. “So what do you want, Mr. Desmond?”
He cleared his throat. That question sparked a hundred images for him. His mother, his hovel of a home, his having to beg his cousins for basic human decency…yes, he saw all those things flow through his mind. But he also saw Flora. Her smile, her bright gaze in the museum, her mouth turned up toward his, her body shuddering against his tongue.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” he said softly.
Valaria nodded. “Do you like her?”
There was no hesitation in how he answered then. “Yes,” he said. “Anyone who doesn’t is a fool. She is a remarkable woman.”
He shifted as he realized he’d repeated the compliment he’d given her after their encounter a short time before. When she’d still been shaky with pleasure. When he’d tried to step away from her for his own good. For hers.
“Well, that’s very good,” Valaria said. “It’s an excellent start, at any rate, that you can see her value. But I must tell you, Mr. Desmond—Roarke—that if you do hurt her, I’ll be certain someone hurts you.”
His eyes grew wide at that promise, said with a sweet smile. The lady was not in jest. It was a promise she made, not a threat. And he admired her for it. “I would deserve it,” he said.
“Good, then that’s settled,” Valaria said. “We understand each other. Would you like to look at the fountain? Flora says you are a lover of art and it’s really a wonderful piece.”
“Yes,” he said, and offered his arm, which she took this time. “Why don’t you lead the way?”
Flora leaned as far as she could over the veranda wall without falling and twisted around to find Valaria and Roarke walking through the half-dead gardens together.
“She looks very intense,” she said before she glanced at Callum. He was still seated at the table, leaning back in his chair, entirely unbothered. “Oh God, what do you think they’re saying?”
The inspired a chuckle in her companion. “Valaria is probably threatening him if he ever were to hurt you.”
Flora felt the color leave her cheeks and she took a long step toward Callum. “She wouldn’t!”
“Of course she would,” Callum said. “After what she endured? She would go to war to protect anyone she cared about from ever going through pain. That singular dedication to safeguarding those she loves is one of her greatest qualities.” He shook his head. “Won’t you sit down? You’re making me dizzy spinning around to look at them and then back to me and then back to them again.”
Flora let out her breath and stomped back to her place at the table. She took it gingerly and glanced over her shoulder. “I do appreciate Valaria for her steadfast friendship, but this is humiliating. Roarke doesn’t deserve this much attention from her. He and I aren’t anything to each other.”