***
The saplings had traveled well. Sir Francis Carew had kindly sent three of his young orange trees when Susanna had written of the disaster that had befallen Stoneleigh. As a favor to her late mother, he didn't ask for anything in return. The money Orlando had sent had bought three more from France, but they hadn't arrived yet. There'd been enough to hire a reed-thin lad to help too.
"Ahhh," said her father from his chair by the orange trees. "Can you smell that, my dear?"
She breathed deeply, her face turned to the bold afternoon sun. "Spring. My favorite time of year."
"Mine too. The scent of blossoms and new growth never fails to make me feel young again. It reminds me of your mother," he added wistfully. "Come here, my dear, and hold your old father's hand."
She did and followed his gaze to the lad digging in the garden bed. He grunted a lot and sweat poured from his brow but he kept at the task without complaint.
"He's a good worker," her father said.
"Yes."
"But not as good as Holt."
"No."
Farley squinted up at her. "You miss him."
She smiled and patted his hand. The skin stretched across the back felt as dry and thin as an autumn leaf. "He was a good worker, like you said."
"He was more than that to you. Don't deny it, Susanna. I might be old, but I still have eyes and ears. You think you hide things from me but you can't." His eyes did indeed seem clear and clever today, as if he'd seen into her heart and knew all her secrets. Perhaps he did.
"I don't know what you mean." She withdrew her hand and ignored the lump lodged in her chest. It was always there, ever since Orlando left, but it was only during the moments when she thought about him that sadness threatened to overwhelm her.
He had promised to return, yet spring was well under way and he had not come back. He'd sent the money and a letter to explain the situation he'd discovered upon his return to London. She understood. Of course she did. He had a duty to his brother and none to her. She'd refused his offer of marriage after all. It was her own fault.
Yet she had never stopped waiting and watching. Never stopped hoping.
The niggling thought that she'd been right to refuse him lingered. He'd spent long enough at Stoneleigh, long enough to need to travel again. In time, she suspected he would leave London too, but she doubted he would return to her. He was the sort who needed to move ever forward, never back.
It was best to stay active and not let herself think beyond the day's tasks otherwise melancholy would set in. If she thought about the future she was likely to burst into tears and she'd shed enough over the last five months to drown in.
"A little deeper," she said, kneeling on the ground near where the lad dug. It was the next best thing to digging the hole herself. "Before we put the sapling in—" She stopped. Someone was whistling outside the wall. Her heart ground to a halt then restarted with a vengeance.
He came back.
"Who's that whistling out of tune?" her father asked, turning in his chair. The blanket slipped off his lap as he half-rose.
"Out of tune? Mr. Farley, you wound me. I rather thought I was a good whistler." Orlando stood beneath the ivy-covered arch, smiling. Susanna couldn't tear her gaze away. He was beautiful with his merry eyes and maddening dimples. The sight of him made her want to alternately weep and laugh and swoon, all at once.
"Holt!" her father said. "Susanna, it's Mr. Holt. I told you he'd return."
"Good afternoon, Susanna," Orlando said, his smile drifting a little.
"Good afternoon," she said.
"Have you been well? Did your arm heal?"
"Quite well and yes it did. And you?"
He simply shrugged. "I see you've found yourself some help in my absence. I'm glad."
The lad gulped audibly. He'd stopped digging, and she indicated he should keep going.
"He's been a Godsend," she said.
"Then you should keep him on."
It was like walking through a briar patch without boots and trying to avoid the thorns. If Orlando wanted her to keep the lad, that meant he wasn't staying to help. She wouldn't be sad. She'd known all along that he'd just pass through, if that. But she still wanted to cry. Perhaps she would let the tears flow tonight when she allowed herself a few minutes to think and remember and dream. Still, it was best if she didn't speak, just until she knew her voice wouldn't break.
Her father slapped the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. Orlando went to aid him, but Farley waved him away. "You two have things to discuss." He gave Susanna a sharp glare.
"Do you need help getting to the house, sir?" Orlando asked.
"No, I can walk now that it's spring. I always feel better in the spring. It's the best time of year. New life and all that." He patted Orlando's arm and beckoned to the lad. "Take the chair inside."
Young and old left the walled garden and Susanna was alone with Orlando. She didn't know how to begin so she said the first thing that came into her head.
"You came back."
"I said I would." He cocked his head to the side. "You doubted me?"
She lifted one shoulder. "I...didn't think one thing or the other."
The smile he gave her was a typical Orlando Holt smile—an intriguing mix of imp and rogue. When she'd first met him, it had irritated her. Now she wanted to kiss it.
"Did you receive the money I sent?" he asked.
"Yes, and thank you for introducing me to your customer. He has already written and asked for whatever crop we can produce this year. I mean it, Orlando, thank you. I'm sorry I doubted you."
He pulled her to him, slamming her against his body. "I'll accept a kiss as an apology."
She made a small sound of protest. "Not so hard."
He stepped away and held her at arm's length. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head.
He frowned. His gaze moved lower, to her stomach. "Susanna..." Lately she'd returned to wearing women's clothes and he touched her bodice at her waist. His jaw went slack. "Susanna..." he whispered, wonder in his voice. He flattened his palm against her belly. "You're...with child."
She bit the inside of her lip but it wobbled, darn it. "Yes. I'm going to have your baby in about four months."
"But...you can't."
She lifted one shoulder. "It seems I can after all. I was going to write to you in London." When she found the right words.
"Your father...he knows?"
"I haven't told him, but I suspect he's guessed. I was going to tell him once my clothes no longer hid the bump. Bessie, Cook, and Hendricks guessed long ago."
"Hiding something like this from them would have been impossible." He laughed and threw his arms around her. It felt delicious and warm to be wrapped up in him again, and a riot of sensations swamped her, chief among them relief and sadness in equal measure.
He removed her hat and buried his face in her hair. "Ah, my sweetheart, I've missed you so much." He kissed her forehead and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. "We'll marry as soon as the bans are read."
"Orlando," she said, gently extricating herself. If she didn't say it now, she may never say it, and it had to be said. "Orlando, I cannot marry you."
His smiled faded and a crease formed above the bridge of his nose. "Why not?"
"Because nothing has changed."
"Nonsense. Everything has changed! We're going to have a baby." The frown deepened. "Susanna...don't. Don't push me away. Not now. Surely the baby changes how you feel."
She turned away and lowered her head. Despite her resolve, her tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked. She felt him come up behind her but he didn't touch her.
"Is it because I broke my promise and didn’t return immediately? I'm sorry for that. Thomas needed me and I...I thought I could atone for what happened years ago. But I can't. What's done is done. Thomas needs to be strong now. I did give him a lot of the money I saved. Hopefully he can hire some good workers to help him. I'm
not going back, Susanna. I'm staying here, with you."
"It doesn't change how I feel," she said.
"I don't understand."
"You felt obligated before you left, just as you felt obligated to help your brother." She swung round and was struck by the misery etched into every line of his face. She forged on. "You think promising to take care of me, as if I'm some kind of responsibility, is what I want?"
"You are my responsibility, Susanna, whether you like it or not. You and our baby."
"I don't want to be your duty, Orlando!"
"Let me finish. You are my responsibility because I love you."
Her breathing sounded loud in the silence, echoing between her ears. "Love?" she murmured.
"Yes," he said, a tentative half-smile curving his lips.
"No."
His smiled slipped off. "What?"
She folded her arms across the swell of her belly. "Love is not for the likes of you, Orlando."
He stepped toward her but she held her hands up, blocking him.
"Whether you are or aren't, we cannot marry. Not because of the baby, not because you want to help me, and not because you wish to protect me. My reasons for denying you haven’t changed. I will not tie you to me, or to our child. Marriage would be a slow death for a man like you. An honorable, good man who would fulfill his obligations when all he really wanted was to be free." She swallowed hard. "And I couldn't bear to see you turn into the sort of man I despise because of me."
"Susanna, stop it. You know nothing of what I want, or what I need."
"You said so yourself. You need your freedom lest you grow bored and cause trouble as you did for your brother years ago."
"Susanna, listen to me." He gripped her arms and lowered his head so that his intense gaze was level with hers. It held her rooted to the spot. "You are my freedom," he said. "Not the Guild, not wandering the world and not this baby. It's you."
A great shudder wracked her. "Me?"
He nodded. "I made up my mind before leaving London that I would return here and do my utmost to make you my wife. If you refuse me, I'm staying anyway."
"You...you will? Even if we don't wed? Even if I don't want you as my lover?"
"Not being intimate with you would kill me, but I defy you to resist my charms for long." He gave her his infamous lop-sided smile. "My charms are extensive, I'll have you know."
She gave a half-sob, half-laugh. "I know."
"I don't want to go anywhere else, Susanna." He was suddenly serious again. "Why would I, when you're here? Wherever you are is where I want to be, even if that's the same place for the rest of our lives. I could never grow bored with you." He pecked the end of her nose. "You're such a complicated creature it would take me a lifetime to discover all your secrets. What greater adventure is there?"
She blinked up at him for a long time, trying to determine if he told her the truth. He was such a good liar. So very, very good.
"You don't trust me," he said heavily.
"I do." It was the truth. She did trust him, with all her heart. He'd come back as promised—there was no greater evidence that he spoke the truth. "But why the change? Five months ago you were afraid of becoming a wastrel and bringing ill tidings to your family's door. Are you no longer afraid of that?"
"I'm not. I spent a lot of time with Thomas while in London. He forgave me for what happened that awful night. May did too. He said he'd come to understand me a little better over the years, and understood my need to be active. That's why when he asked me to stay this time, he offered me the freedom to do as I pleased, to work where I wanted to work, and have more responsibility. So I did. I learned every aspect of the business and I realized that I could do it and not grow bored. I could stay there for as long as I wanted and there'd always be something different to do, if I chose to do it. The thing is, I chose not to. I chose you. I want you."
"Oh," she whispered. Her throat was too tight to say any more.
He'd chosen her.
"When I left, Thomas gave me his blessing. He also gave me some advice. He told me to keep active and engage in something I enjoy to stay out of trouble." He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. It triggered an ache, low in her belly.
"And what do you enjoy?"
She felt him smile. It was pure wickedness.
"Ah, well then." She stretched her arms around him and he responded by holding her gently. "It's fortunate that you and I have the same interests."
He kissed her. Thoroughly. It took her breath away and made her want to lie with him, right there on the earth.
"Come," he said, taking her hand. "I want to ask your father for your hand before you change your mind. Then I'd better ask Hendricks."
"Very wise. But I'm not going to change my mind."
"Oh?"
"Why would I when your..." She dropped her gaze to his groin. "...charm is so appealing."
He looped his arm around her waist and hugged her to his side. "Just as long as you never grow bored of my charm."
"Don't worry. There's no chance I'll grow tired of your charm. It is rather extensive, so I've been told."
He tipped his head back and laughed.
THE END
THE REBEL, the 2nd Assassins Guild novel, is now available for purchase. After losing his memory, Cole forgets he's a cold-hearted killer and falls in love. When his memory returns, will he revert to his old ways, or can the love of a good woman save him from himself? Read on for an excerpt of THE REBEL.
A message from the author:
I hope you enjoyed reading THE CHARMER as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book please send an email to
[email protected] and I will subscribe you to my New Releases newsletter. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.
Books by C.J. Archer:
The Charmer (Assassins Guild Novel #1)
The Rebel (Assassins Guild Novel #2)
The Saint (Assassins Guild Novel #3)
The Wrong Girl (1st Freak House #1)
Playing With Fire (1st Freak House #2)
Heart Burn (1st Freak House #3)
The Memory Keeper (2nd Freak House #1)
Seared With Scars (2nd Freak House #2)
Courting His Countess
Her Secret Desire (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #1)
Scandal's Mistress (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #2)
To Tempt The Devil (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #3)
The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #1)
Possession (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)
Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #3)
Honor Bound (The Witchblade Chronicles Book #1)
Kiss Of Ash (The Witchblade Chronicles #2)
Surrender
Redemption
The Mercenary's Price
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her novel Honor Bound. Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has published contemporary romantic mysteries, including Finders Keepers Losers Die, and The Diamond Affair. After spending her childhood surrounded by the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, she lives today in suburban Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and their two children.
She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her in one of these ways:
Blog/web: https://cjarcher.com
Email:
[email protected] Twitter: www.twitter.com/cj_archer
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CJArcherAuthorPage
> Did you enjoy THE CHARMER? If so, I hope you will like the 2nd Assassins Guild novel just as much. Read on for a description and excerpt.
THE REBEL
Cole's heart is dark.
He's a mystery, even to those closest to him in the Assassins Guild. All anyone really knows for sure is that he's ruthless, grim, and cares little for his own life. So when he loses his memory during an attack and thinks himself a naive eighteen year-old again, no one can really believe the transformation. But as his memory returns, so do the nightmares and the dark reality of who he has become.
Lucy's world is bright.
When gentle-natured Lucy falls in love with the damaged stranger, she thinks him a smiling, amiable gentleman. But rumors of a murder in the nearby village have her suspecting that her patient may be hiding a terrible secret.
Can opposites really attract?
What will happen when Cole regains his memory and his past catches up to him?
An excerpt of THE REBEL
By C.J. Archer