Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2)(33)

“No,” he said. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have left Maureen. But I could have…helped you.”

“No, you couldn’t have. I’m telling you, he wouldn’t have let me go.”

“I could have made it worth his while financially.”

“David, just how much do you know?”

“Enough. And I’m sorry, Iris.”

“For what?”

“For not helping you.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“I hired a private detective to track you down and find out your situation. Maureen found out about it.”

“So you…?”

“So I…did nothing. I’ve always regretted it, but I felt I owed some loyalty to Maureen. I’m so sorry.”

Iris’s nerves danced under her skin. “What exactly did you find out, David?”

“That Longarry was in near financial ruin, and that he was known to be a tyrant and he did not treat you and the children kindly.”

“And?”

“That’s it, my Iris.”

“Oh.” Thank goodness.

“What more is there?”

“David, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

David raked his fingers through his long silvery-blond hair. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Iris fidgeted with the sash on her dinner gown. “We survived.”

David tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

“Maybe later. I don’t want to talk about Longarry. In fact, I spend most of my life trying to forget that he ever existed.”

“Iris—”

“And it wasn’t all bad. He gave me my girls. They’re both so beautiful, much more so than I ever was.”

“I might debate that.” David smiled. “They are lovely, but no lovelier than you.”

“You are kind.”

“I am only truthful, my dear.” David touched his hand to her cheek and slowly brought his face to hers.

Iris’s heart jumped. He was going to kiss her. Lord, it had been so long. When his lips brushed against hers, she felt a surge in her womb that she’d thought long dead. Slowly he caressed her with his mouth, and she opened her lips, welcoming the soft velvet of his tongue. He kissed her cheeks, her neck, her ears

He whispered, “You’re the only woman I ever loved. Do you know that?”

Iris couldn’t breathe. Her pulse raced madly, and her skin was fiery hot. “I can’t think, David. I can’t—”

“I’d like to take you to your chamber,” he said, caressing her arms and rubbing the nape of her neck.

“I don’t think that would be wise.” Iris melted farther into his embrace.

“I don’t think I care,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Iris breathed.





Chapter Seven


Cameron sat under the giant oak tree behind the hired man’s cabin, strumming his guitar and picking out a tune. A spring breeze blew, catching his long hair and whipping it side to side, despite the protection of the tree. The grass swayed, and the flowers danced. His mother’s roses were budding. Pink roses, the color of his beloved’s lips. The bushes swayed back and forth, and a bud burst open before his eyes, bringing forth a perfect coral bloom. The flower moved in the wind, seeming to hum a melody as it glissaded slowly, methodically. Cameron picked out the notes on his guitar, strumming slowly, soon playing along with the flower’s song. A heady gust of wind plucked the bloom from the bush, its petals floating upward, spinning and swirling, and then it wasn’t a flower anymore, but his Rose dancing. Her feet were bare, and her body was clad only in the sheerest coral silk that moved with the wind as she glided gracefully through the air. She was singing. Singing for him. Her true love. The melodies and harmonies blended together, infusing joy and peace into Cam’s heart. This was happiness. Bliss. A song made of his love for Rose. She danced before him, smiling, seducing. She reached out and touched her slender fingers to his cheek, ever so lightly, and then teasingly moved away from him, making him want her even more. It was all in the tune—her beauty, her love for him and his for her, the teasing, the seduction, the complete and pure peace when their bodies joined. She danced and glided, moved away. She was a bloom again, and the wind tore the petals from the stem, scattering them, and she was gone.

He woke up in a cold sweat. The tune. Rose. It was the middle of the night, but he pulled on a pair of trousers, lit a lamp, and scurried out to the pianoforte in the main room. Grabbing a quill and paper, he sat down and began picking out notes. If he hurried, he could get it all down before the memory of his dream left him.



Rose bathed and dressed quickly the next morning. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Evan. She would apologize for her wanton behavior, beg his forgiveness, and move forward. She’d learned a valuable lesson. He wasn’t Cameron. She couldn’t recapture the feelings that Cameron evoked in her. Only one man existed for her, and she would never have him.

But that wasn’t Evan’s fault. He was who he was. She was thankful he had stopped her. She didn’t want to come for anyone but Cameron. Unfortunately, that meant she may never experience that earth-shattering feeling again.