Loving A Lost Lord. Mary Jo Putney

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      “The fact that it’s enclosed and feels…safe. Protected. Peaceful.” He closed his eyes and tried to recall that other garden. “I have a vague memory of a similar place, though with many more flowers. Brilliant flowers. In one corner was a fountain with…an elephant in the middle? I think it was an elephant.”

      “That garden might not have been in England.”

      “It wasn’t,” he said with certainty. “But I have no idea where it was.”

      He opened his eyes and studied the garden. The foliage of the shrubs was a pleasing mixture of colors and shapes. Brick paths were set in herringbone patterns, and large rocks seemed intended for sitting. “But I think both places were designed to encourage thought or prayer or serenity.”

      “Speaking of peaceful, there’s Mrs. Beckett’s kitchen cat, Annabelle.” The cat was snoozing in a patch of sunshine below the espaliered fruit tree. Feline eyes opened as Mariah approached, and she didn’t object to being scooped up and cooed over.

      Mariah should carry the cat with her everywhere, Adam decided. She was irresistible with a lock of blond hair spilling over her shoulder and the black and white cat purring in her arms. Her tender affection made her even more beautiful.

      “Living in the kitchen must explain Annabelle’s generous contours.”

      “That’s politely put,” Mariah said with a chuckle. “She’s a sweet moggy. Some nights she even condescends to sleep on my bed.”

      Adam turned around slowly, thinking of that other garden. He saw it more clearly now. The water in the fountain sprayed not from the trunk of an elephant, but an elephant-headed man. Very un-English. The air had been burningly hot, and a woman sat in the shade of a great tree. He could not see her clearly, but he knew she was dark haired and beautiful….

      Mariah perched on the largest rock with the cat. “I can see where surroundings like these would be good for calming one’s nerves.”

      “I’ll clean this up and turn it into a true meditation garden as my first project.” He sat on the rock beside her and stroked Annabelle’s silky fur, his fingers provocatively close to Mariah’s breast. “If I were courting you, Miss Clarke, I’d use this privacy to steal a kiss.”

      He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers as gently as if it were their first time. She made a small sound in her throat and her lips clung to his. A kiss that started in innocence rapidly became more. He leaned closer, his hand moving to cup her breast. The cat gave a squawk of protest and kicked away from Mariah’s lap.

      Annabelle’s action made Mariah gasp and pull back. “I would allow you to steal a kiss, but no more. Because I’m a v…very proper young lady.”

      His hands clenched. Though his body cried out for her familiar warmth, he had agreed to move slowly. She deserved no less. “As a not quite proper gentleman, I would apologize for my ill-bred behavior while secretly hoping to repeat it as soon as possible.”

      She laughed a little unevenly as she stood and brushed down her skirts. “I think you are more honest than an ordinary suitor would be.”

      “This is not an ordinary courtship.” He stood, feeling a little light-headed. Offering his arm, he said, “Shall we return to our explorations?”

      “As long as we avoid any more gardens that are too private. The kitchen gardens should do nicely. All those vegetables are most unromantic.”

      Her smile was a little hesitant as she took his arm. He reminded himself again that she needed this time to accept how he had changed. He wasn’t the man he had been before, and the fact that they were wed didn’t automatically mean she would invite him to share her bed again.

      Uneasily he wondered if amnesia was grounds for annulment. He hoped not.

      Chapter Nine

      Greenock and Arran Island, Scotland

      Will Masterson caught the ship’s railing as the Annie bobbed at anchor on a cool, rainy afternoon. Beside him, Randall asked, “What’s that thing on the back deck?”

      “A diving bell,” Will replied. “Like a church bell, it’s open on the bottom. Because of the weight, it stays upright when lowered into the water and air is trapped underneath. Divers can ride down inside the bell and swim over to where they work, then reenter the bell when they need to catch a breath.”

      “Ingenious,” Kirkland remarked. “What will they think of next?”

      “Aristotle wrote about an early diving bell, so it’s not the newest invention around,” Will said. “But they’ve improved greatly in recent years. This one has a window to look out under the sea and compressed air so it can stay down longer.”

      Randall frowned. “I hope it can do the job.”

      “It’s likely Ash was in the engine room. If so, we should be able to recover his body.” Will’s voice was calm, though his emotions weren’t. As long as there was no body, he could hang on to the faint hope that Ash was still alive.

      With shouts and creaking timbers the Annie set off on the first leg of the journey. Archie Mactavish had been right: Jamie Bogle of Greenock had a first-rate salvage operation, with all the latest equipment. The diving bell even had a compressed-air line. Bogle also had something more: a personal motive for helping to find the Enterprise. His cousin Donald was one of the men missing and presumed dead.

      “Donald liked working for your duke,” Bogle had told Will gruffly when they’d met to see if Bogle could take on the job. “Said it was the best position he’d ever had.”

      “Then maybe we can bring his body home,” Will had replied.

      “The family ’ould like that,” Bogle had said. “Can you sail on the afternoon tide?”

      They could. The salvage ship Annie and a barge sailed south with Will, Randall, and Kirkland, plus two other passengers: Archibald Mactavish and Davy Collins, two of the four survivors of the Enterprise. With their recollections of landmarks on Arran Island, it took less than a day to locate the steamship’s wreckage. The waters were shallow, which meant the salvage operation should be straightforward.

      Under a damp and threatening sky, the diving bell submerged with two divers, one of them Bogle’s son, Duncan. The time the men were below seemed interminable, though it couldn’t have been too long. The chain of the crane rattled and became taut as it was attached to a piece of wreckage.

      The divers returned to the surface. As they wrapped themselves in heavy wool blankets, Duncan reported, “We found the aft section of the ship, including the engine room. Lucky the Enterprise wasn’t a great thumpin’ sailing ship. I think we can raise her with a bit of care.”

      His father nodded and ordered his crew to start lifting. Chain squealing, the load was raised, water pouring from every crack and crevice when the massive piece of wreckage cleared the surface.

      Will’s fingers bit into the ship’s railing as he wondered if Ash was inside. He had trouble believing that Ash, with his quiet wit and absolute loyalty, was really gone. Which was why recovering a body was so important.

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