Mary smiled. “That sounds very nice.”
The hedges continued high on either side, curving sometimes and at others running in a straight line. Royce made each turn without hesitation, though Mary grew more and more lost as they went along.
“I hope I never wind up here alone. I should doubtless starve to death before I found my way out.”
“It’s not that bad once you’ve learned it. But it does serve to keep out strangers.”
They came out at last upon a tranquil circle, surrounded on all sides by hedges except for the single opening. Inside the circle lay a pond, still and soothing. Lily pads floated in it, and two large goldfish swam lazily through the water. Completing the pleasant picture, two stone benches sat on either side of the pond. Entering the circle was like stepping into a cool green room. Mary felt separated from the rest of the world, and her earlier fright seemed distant, even foolish.
“It’s beautiful,” Mary breathed, walking up to the pond.
“I’m glad you like it.” Royce came to stand beside her. “Would you like to sit for a while?” He gestured toward one of the benches.
They settled onto the bench side by side. After a moment, Royce said, frowning, “I had thought to give you and your sisters riding lessons, but perhaps I should not if someone is lurking about.”
“What? No, you mustn’t change your mind,” Mary protested. “Camellia would love to ride. We should all enjoy it—if nothing else, it would get us out from under the gimlet eye of Miss Dalrymple.”
He chuckled. “That is certainly a consideration.”
“Please …” Mary put her hand beseechingly on his arm. “We don’t know that the footprint belongs to anyone wishing us harm. The more I think about it, the sillier it seems. And you will be with us when we are out riding, in any case. Say you will do it.”
Royce turned and looked down at her. His eyes darkened. “How can I refuse when you ask me like that?”
Mary went still, her heart suddenly in her throat. For one long moment, everything seemed to stop. Mary was aware of the soft brush of the breeze against her cheek, the faint plop of a small frog as it leapt into the water, the shaded cool here at the heart of the maze.#p#分页标题#e#
Then Royce was bending to her, his arm sliding around her waist, and Mary melted into him. His mouth was warm upon hers, his arm like iron around her. They could have been miles from anyone, wrapped in a cocoon of heat and hunger, all awareness of anything besides themselves and this moment falling away. His hand moved over her, caressing her through her clothes, moving almost lazily over her back and hip and up again to smooth over her breast.
Her body flamed to life beneath his touch, the fire gathering deep in her abdomen. With a groan, he pulled her over onto his lap. With his arm around her back, he kissed his way down her throat, nuzzling and nipping at the side of her neck. His hand roamed over her front more urgently now, cupping her breasts and teasing the nipples through the cloth until they stood up hard and hungry, straining against the thin material.
Mary was aware of an ache between her legs, an eager yearning. She wanted him, hungered for him in a way she did not fully understand. She slid her hands over his shoulders and up his neck, tangling them in his thick hair. She felt him quicken beneath her, and instinctively she moved her hips and was rewarded with his harsh indrawn breath.
He breathed her name, his breath hot against the skin of her chest. His mouth moved downward until it reached the neckline of her dress and he nuzzled down into it, seeking the soft, quivering flesh of her breasts. Mary gasped and moisture pooled between her legs.
Abruptly Royce let out an oath and raised his head. He stared down into Mary’s face for a long moment, his eyes dark in the shaded surroundings. His face was taut, the skin stretched over his bones, his mouth full and dark from their kisses.
“Bloody hell. You are a dangerous woman, Marigold Bascombe.”
He stood, scooping her up and setting her on her feet in one smooth motion. “I think it’s past time we returned to the house.”
Mary could manage only a nod as Royce turned and led her out of the maze.
Chapter 16
Unsurprisingly, it was Miss Dalrymple who put a damper on Sir Royce’s plans. The girls, she said, shocked, could not possibly ride without riding habits.
“Why?” Camellia protested. “We can wear what we have.”
“It would never do.” Miss Dalrymple shook her head. “Riding habits are specially made, with extra material to fall down over one’s, um, limbs. It would be unladylike—indeed, quite scandalous—to mount a horse wearing a day dress.”