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Vangie laughed. She’d not felt this carefree in ages. His good humor was contagious. And the sun felt marvelous. Closing her eyes, she turned her face upward, savoring its warm rays. A soft kiss brushed her mouth, and her eyes flew open.
She stared at his finely sculpted lips. They had been warm and tender on hers. Her tongue trailed the seam of her mouth trying to capture the sensation of his lips on hers again.
His knowing chuckle drew her from her reverie. “I thought you wanted to see the estate?”
“I do.” Vangie forced her gaze from his gorgeous mouth, then met his humor-filled eyes.
Lord, but she sounded like a breathless goosecap.
“Very well, come along then.” He grinned boyishly, his boot heels clicking on the flagstone path as he led the way. “Watch your step. Some of the stones are cracked or broken.”
She and Ian wandered the formal gardens all afternoon, strolling among the various floral rooms. An abundance of ornamental trees—complete with arbor covered stone benches—were strategically placed throughout the terraced gardens. The buzzing of fat honey-burdened bees and the lilting strains of birds filled the air with nature’s song.
Vangie craned her neck to peer at the heavily laden dogwood trees drooping overhead. Several fragrant shrubs lent their sweet essence to drift on the warm breeze. “Is that a yellowhammer?” She pointed to a yellow and brown-streaked bird perched on a branch.
Ian’s gaze followed her finger, and he nodded. “I believe so.”
She stopped, bending to smell a peach-etched rose, its petals just beginning to open. Straightening, she gazed around the unkempt rose garden. It was too early in the season for the roses to be fully in bloom, but hundreds of plump rosebuds dotted the greenery with a profusion of pastel and vivid hues. The garden’s neglect was not long-standing. These lands had been well-cared for in recent years.
“What happened?” She swept her hand in an arc to indicate the roses.
Ian reached behind her and pinched off a bud. He handed the rose to her, and then hands on his hips, he scanned his estate.
Raising the coral rose to her nose, Vangie inhaled deeply. However, she only detected a hint of fragrance.
“In recent years, my father deemed it unnecessary to spend monies on Somersfield.” A shadow darkened his features when he spoke of his father. “That will change now that I have inherited the viscountcy.”
She gently caressed the fragile petals. “He died recently?”
“Just over six weeks ago.”
“And your brother?”
Ian turned to stare at her. Grief and something else, regret perhaps, was tangible in his pewter eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something but shut it.
An unpleasant sensation tingled along her spine. Dash it all. Had she offended him? He didn’t want to speak of it. She understood his pain. The loss of her parents had left her numb for months. “I’m sorry. I ought not to have mentioned them. Please forgive me.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he a headache? Or was he struggling to suppress tears? He opened his eyes and peered into hers for a long, unnerving moment.
Vangie couldn’t tear her attention away.
Voice husky, he said, “You’ve done no wrong.”
She had the oddest feeling he wasn’t referring to her insensitive questions.
Ian rubbed his forehead. Mayhap he did have a headache. “Geoff died two months ago. He was five years younger than me. We had different mothers.” He crossed the short distance separating them. Once more he started to speak and stopped.
She searched his tormented eyes. Yes, regret lingered there—and guilt. Did he feel responsible for his brother’s death? How awful.
“How did he die?” The words rolled from her mouth before she could corral them. Drat, my blasted tongue.
A pained expression flicked across his face, but he swiftly smoothed his countenance into indifference. No, not indifference. There was a harsh edge to his lips, and he clenched his jaw. His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. With visible effort, he relaxed his jaw. “A duel with a lord.”
“Dear God!” Vangie wished she hadn’t asked.
He gazed over her head, as if seeing the scene on a stage. “He was defending the honor of a woman he didn’t know but came upon being accosted. Both he and the duke were wounded. The duke died two days afterward.”
Tears pricked behind her eyelids.