“She is quite fierce, isn’t she?”
“Petrifying.”
She smiled and received Ian’s mischievous grin in return. With a sigh, she thought how nice it was to feel as if a man valued her intellect and truly seemed to like her. Not the social façade one donned in company, but the woman she truly was. He laughed at her jests, teased her playfully, and showed a pleasing confidence in her intelligence. It was…nice. That he seemed to find her as physically appealing as she found him was an added windfall.
Slipping into a companionable silence, she allowed him to guide her along Beaumont’s meandering path to the south end of the formal gardens, where a moss-covered stone archway and low wall announced their arrival at the pleasure gardens. While the front lawns of the castle were very tidy and structured, these terraced gardens were a riot of pathways winding about a cacophony of flowering beds, tall statuary, small fountains, and draping willows. The facing walls of each level that rose back toward the firth to their right were dripping with clematis and other climbers.
Soon, Ian was inquiring about the gardens and their origins as they meandered through them, showing a surprising knowledge of the flora and fauna they came across. He was able to name so many more varieties than Hero was even while he drew the duke along with them—making sure her father didn’t wander off, and once or twice reminding Beaumont of his name.
When the duke stopped at a fountain to dip his handkerchief in the water and mop his face with it, Ian stood by her father’s side and did the same. He agreed heartily with her father that the nudity of the woman portrayed on the fountain’s statuary was indeed a most envious state, though he calmly offered that perhaps they should refrain from imitating the goddess lest they offend Hero’s more delicate sensibilities.
She bit back a smile at that, surprising herself with the thought that the sight of Ian in the nude wouldn’t offend her at all.
It was another surprisingly hot day, most unusual for Scotland even in June. The sun pierced through her lace parasol, and bees buzzed lazily as the trio wove their way along the many pathways that wound through the acres of gardens. She wished she were able to loosen her clothing the way the men were able to, still she couldn’t seem to stop smiling despite her discomfort. Ian was such a kind man to be so patient with her father. Her father could be a trying personality these days, yet Ian accepted him and even played into the conversation in a way that delighted the duke and tugged at her heartstrings.
“Daughter,” Beaumont began, breaking through the hum of summer pleasantly surrounding them, “I thought you said there were swans here.”
“Yes, Papa, we will see them soon.”
“Swans?” Ian echoed.
“Haven’t you been to the swan pond yet?”
“I have a swan pond?” he asked with playful surprise.
“Where did you say you had ridden all those times this past month?”
He grinned broadly. “The library, I believe.”
“Six hundred acres of property and you hadn’t even made it into these gardens yet? I shall have to take you on a complete tour of the grounds, I see.” Hero laughed, unable to contain the delight he roused in her. “The swan pond, for example, is just past the gardens to the southeast where they meet the fringes of the wooded parklands. It is a charming lake, though man-made. I believe Jennings told me they blasted the site with dynamite to create it. It is stocked with fish to feed the estate, but for more aesthetic reasons, a swan house and gazebo were added next to it. It’s a lovely setting with the willows hanging low over the gazebo. And very well shaded.”
“Shade sounds rather appealing at this moment.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“What other treasures have I missed?” he asked, turning her in that direction.
“There is an exquisite Chinese pagoda farther into the woodlands, sitting along the banks of a narrow creek, and the orangery in the orchards to the south is probably the most divine structure on the grounds,” she told him. “With all the metal and glass, one might think it a most stark structure, but there is more ornate ironwork and stained glass there than in any other building at Cuilean.”
“You’ll have to show it to me.”
“I would love to.” Hero tilted her parasol back and looked up to find Ian studying her with a thoughtful expression. “What is it, my lord?”
His eyes warmed and the corner of his mouth tilted upward in a tender smile. “Nothing more than I have a feeling that there is much that I would have you show me.”
Chapter Eleven
Hero felt her cheeks warm at his allusion, knowing that he wasn’t merely referring to Cuilean’s acreage, and was thankful that the heat of the day was already keeping them flushed. He was flirting with her. It was subtle but it was there.
“And a picnic,” Beaumont added, coming alongside Ian and bringing an end to the moment. “My daughter has ordered a picnic to be brought there for us.”
“Very thoughtful,” Ian said.
“She’s a very thoughtful girl.”
“Aye, she is.” Ian shot Hero another wide smile, his dark eyes dancing, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Tell me, Harry,” he continued conversationally, “is it truly the swans you were hoping to see or was it that basket?”
“One would think a man might find pleasure in a great many things,” the duke said solemnly, rocking back on his heels before spying the gazebo in the distance and striding off toward it. “I am feeling rather peckish, however.”
