“I’m not an adversary, Sophie. I want you to be comfortable. If you wish to spend the night here, then that’s what we’ll do. I just thought that you’d like to have your own room and that…” His voice trailed off as he stared into his glass and shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

She took a few steps closer to him, curious. “What?” she asked. “What’s not important?”

He pressed his lips together as if determined to remain silent, but she walked right up to his chair. Challenged him to look into her eyes.

He held her gaze for several seconds, casually set down his glass, and stood so that they were toe-to-toe. He was so close that she could see the gold flecks in his irises and the dark fringe of his lashes. “I was going to say that as long you were at Warshire Manor, I thought you might enjoy spending time in my garden.”

“The garden where you found the yellow rose?” she asked, keenly intrigued. She could still see the flower’s perfection in her mind’s eye. Could still feel its velvet petals against her cheek.

“The same one,” he confirmed. “But, as I mentioned, there’s not much else to look at. The head gardener took ill last year and hasn’t tended to it in several months. He’s slowly recovering and is intent on returning to his duties as soon as he can. He’s faithfully served my family for years, so I’m willing to wait, but in the meantime, the grounds look rather … bleak.”

Sophie swallowed. If there was one thing she found nigh irresistible, it was a gardening project—and the greater the challenge, the better. But she had to weigh that against the risks. “I will consider going to Warshire Manor next week,” she said. “Tonight we will stay here.”

“Fair enough.” Reese’s eyes crinkled at the corners and a half smile formed on his lips. “Is it time for bed yet?”

Chapter 7

Sophie cast an assessing gaze at Reese’s face. “You’re not in the right frame of mind for sleep,” she said.

That much was true. All his senses were on high alert around Sophie. His body thrummed with awareness of her—the sure, graceful way she moved, the unexpectedly sultry tone of her voice, and the defiant spark in her blue eyes.

Though he longed for sleep, he disliked the thought of wasting hours he could be spending in her company. “What would you like to do?” he asked. “We could play cards or go for a walk.”

She looked around the room, thoughtful. “Let’s move some furniture.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the leather chairs. “What’s wrong with the furniture?”

“Nothing. But I’ll need more seating in here for next Friday, arranged in a circle.”