“Why not?”
Lewis hesitated. The Bradfords had only ever had a very passive relationship with their land. The tenants worked the soil and paid rent. The groundskeeper oversaw the landscaping. But his family merely floated upon its surface. For the centuries that the estate had been in their care, the Bradfords, it now seemed to Lewis, had never put down real roots. They were possessive in their ownership but had no relationship with what they owned.
“We shall go fishing,” he agreed. “And Cook shall make a dinner of our catch. And I will teach you to ride so that we may explore every inch of Oakwoods.”
“And I can have a garden, like Penelope does?” Jillian’s eyes were now sparkling with anticipation.
“I don’t see why not. We shall begin here, at the cottage. When Father sees what excellent taste you have, and what extensive knowledge you have gained from your own dear father, he will be begging you to do the same at the main house.”
Jillian huffed a wry laugh. “I can’t imagine Lord Bradford begging anyone to do anything. But if he is willing to consider it, I would be most grateful.”
By now, they had reached a hedge. The path ran through an opening in the shrubbery. A few steps more and the shimmering waters were before them.
“Oh!” Jilly marveled. “It’s so close to our home! I didn’t realize.”
“On a quiet day, you can hear the ducks. And on a quiet night, when the ducks are asleep, we hear frogs.”
“I wish the water made a sound. The river at Trenton Grange is always rushing and gurgling and tumbling.”
“We could have a fountain installed,” suggested Lewis.
“No,” Jilly answered sadly. “It’s not the same. It would be just another manmade structure added to a manmade lake.”
“Do you have another suggestion?”
“Well, it would be better if we could at least see the lake and its little visitors. Why has the hedge been placed to block it?”
“Who knows? Everything at Oakwoods has been the same for as long as I can remember. I will ask our groundskeeper. If there is no practical reason, it is yet another project we may suggest for improvement.”
“I think,” said Jilly, “we should not offer them up all at once. I do not want your parents thinking I have no respect for the way they have done things.”
“The suggestions will come from me,” Lewis answered. “And if they like the idea,” he added with a smile, “I shall say it was yours.”
Jillian slipped her hands around her husband’s waist and lay herself full-bodied against him.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheek to his chest. “I already begin to feel at home.”
“Ah, my love,” Lewis crooned as he stroked her long locks, her warmth blending with his own. “I will do everything and anything to make you happy.”
Jilly lifted her head to look upon his face. “I believe you. And I would like to do the same. But I cannot offer gardens or lakes or anything half as grand.”
Lewis shook his head. “These are only things, whether they be grand or not.” He cupped his hand to her cheek. “You have trusted me with your heart. What greater gift is there?”
His thumb ran down the length of her neck. When his hand reached her delicate collarbone, it tugged at her sleeve, revealing the softness of her shoulder. Lewis nipped at the skin, just enough to be playful and to let her know he desired her.
Jillian tilted her chin and caught his earlobe gently between her teeth. His skin prickled into goose-flesh, a shivering pulse running through his entire body.
“I think,” said Lewis, his voice raspy and low, “I know why the hedge is here.”
And he pulled Jillian down with him onto the lush lawn behind the cover of the thick shrubs.
Somewhere in the cottage, their bath grew cold. But here, by the quiet of the lake, it was very warm, indeed.
