“My brother used to host grand parties here,” Reese said, as if trying to imagine the room filled with guests and music and revelry. “But I prefer it like this—quiet and bare.”

“I like it this way too,” Sophie admitted.

“This may surprise you,” he said dryly, “but I’m not very fond of balls.”

“You mean you’re not fond of dancing?” she asked with mock surprise.

“As a rule, no.” He walked up to her and held a hand above her head like they were waltzing. She spun a few times, careful not to brush against the planes of his chest or the protective, almost possessive, arc of his arm. But the brief make-believe dance left her feeling dizzier than it should have. She chuckled as she pirouetted away from him and caught her breath, pretending she found his gruff charm only mildly amusing.

But the truth was that Sophie had loved that moonlit, music-less dance with Reese. Wouldn’t have traded it for a hundred waltzes beneath glittering chandeliers.

Reese strode to a set of French doors at the rear of the room and pushed them open as though he were her escort into another kingdom. Sweeping an arm toward the terrace and the plants and trees beyond, he said, “Welcome to Warshire Manor’s garden.”

Sophie stepped out onto the flagstone terrace and was immediately enthralled. “Reese,” she whispered. “It’s unlike anything I’ve seen.” It was just as he’d described—dying, desolate, dark. But it was also so much more.

From her vantage point near the house, she could see at least three distinct parts of the expansive garden. A foreboding stone pavilion stood in the center, like the hub of a wheel. To the left was a thicket of gnarled black poplars, prickly bushes, and creeping vines. The area to the right was a sea of nothing but pale, ash-gray asphodel flowers, rippling softly in the warm evening breeze. Behind the stone pavilion Sophie could barely make out another section—perhaps the most enticing of them all. It was difficult to discern in the darkness, but she glimpsed an apple orchard and massive stone fountains that mimicked waterfalls.

The stark contrasts within the garden enchanted her, but its most unusual feature was perhaps the one directly in front of her, lapping at her feet. The entire landscape was surrounded by a moat.

“Watch your step,” Reese warned as she approached the murky river water, which swirled and eddied as though monsters lurked below the surface. “It’s deeper than it looks.”

She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. “You say that as if you’ve gone for a swim or two.”

“Not so much a swim as a thorough dunking,” he said good-naturedly. “Come on. There’s a bridge over here.”