“That may be difficult.” Roman joined her on the lawn. “We might have to settle for wood. It is easier to make.”
“With the curved designs?” She referred to the ivy leaf design on the original windows.
“Possibly not.”
“That would be a pity. Then again, that the house isn’t identical on both sides could become a story of interest.”
Roman agreed, then dared to ask, “Are you saying you might grow accustomed to Rook Haven?”
The lips of her generous mouth gave a rueful twist. “I call it that,” she admitted. “There are no rooks this morning.”
“There will be later.”
“We shall see,” she said with another quick smile, and then she changed the subject to her rose garden. She had many ideas. It would be a garden fit for a royal palace. She wanted the roses along the house and other flower beds in patterns across the lawn. She even had plans for an arbor with benches beneath it. “I saw it at Lady Fitzhugh’s garden and thought it the most perfect place to enjoy a summer day. Is it possible?”
Her enthusiasm charmed him. He liked what she had planned. “Of course it is possible. Adams in the village is a very capable carpenter. He and his sons will do whatever you design.”
“WhateverIdesign,” she repeated. She looked to Roman. “I like that. It will be my mark on Bonhomie.”
“Yes,” he said, daring to move toward her, but then an expression crossed her face that made him stop. It was wistful but there was regret there as well.
She took a step away from him. He had not misread her.
He stopped. They stood a little less than a foot from each other. A man and his wife discussing the garden, for all the world to see. But he knew this could be much more.
“I love you.” His words flowed out of him. They were a statement of inescapable fact. Doubts be damned, he felt what he felt.
Leonie crossed her arms. She attempted to smile... but she was not entirely successful. “I know you do.”
“Then all will be well between us.”
Her arms tightened against her. “I am trying to be strong.”
“Youarestrong. Perhaps stronger than I—”
She crossed the space between them and placed her fingertips against his lips. “You weren’t wrong to be angry,” she said.
“Leonie—”
“Shh, no. Don’t argue, Roman. Please, don’t. I don’t know if I can overcome my weaknesses. Is it love to care for your well-being more than my own? I would hate myself if I used you in such a manner. It would set me adrift, and I want something more than what my parents have.”
As did he. His mind, and his heart, knew she was right. And yet, his body begged for him to shout,Use me.Let me love you.I will do anything to keep you safe. To protect you.
She seemed to hear his unspoken words. “This isn’t about you. I am going to save myself. I must find a way to survive and I believe roses will be key. They have taken ahold of my imagination. I know this sounds silly, but look—” She held out her hand. “See? It is steady.”
His response was to take her hand. He adored the warmth of her skin. He dreamed of it.
He looked out over the expanse of lawn that she proposed transforming into flower beds.Transforming...
Roman had little use for flowers. He’d intended to raise food to eat, grain to mill, and fodder for animals. His passion was for what had permanence, such as rebuilding Bonhomie’s structure. Roses were fine. They smelled good, but they could not be eaten or woven.
However, if they could nourish Leonie’s soul, he’d plant acres of them.
For that reason alone, he considered the back of the house. “So, you want the rose bed over here along the house. Would this be deep enough for the beds?” He drew a line in the air to roughly indicate his thoughts.
“Yes, and an herb garden by the kitchen door. Your mother will help me design it. Those beds will be the beginning.” She glanced down to where their hands were still joined. She did not release her hold. Instead, she said, “I would also like a say in the hiring of the household servants.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Yarrow is yours to command. I’ll be busy plowing flower beds.”
