A Silken Seduction. Yvonne Lindsay

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      Four

      Sleep remained elusive all night long and by the time the sun began to show its face, in all its golden splendor, Avery was relieved to be able to push back her tumbled sheets and head for the pool downstairs. A set of punishing laps would clear her head, and maybe go some way to ridding her body of the nervous tension that held her in its grip.

      What had she been thinking last night? She’d had one glass of wine—one!—and yet she’d been putty in his hands. Worse, she had wanted to be putty in his hands.

      Avery slipped on a jewel-blue one-piece suit and raced down the stairs to the basement lap pool her father had had installed several years ago. She dove immediately into the water and powered straight to the end, flipping neatly and heading back the way she’d come. Again and again, end over end, until her muscles were screaming for surcease. Even then, she pushed herself another four laps before dragging herself from the water and lying on the tiled edge, her chest heaving with the need for more oxygen. Eventually her body calmed, but her mind was not as acquiescent. She still couldn’t get Marcus Price out of her thoughts, and with those thoughts came that tension all over again.

      She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her before heading back to her room to shower and change. Once dressed in her habitual jeans and a clean T-shirt, she went to her studio and gathered her things. The day had dawned bright and clear and she was determined to make the most of the light that Marcus had pointed out was so lacking in her painting. Never one for breakfast, she knew Mrs. Jackson would bring out fresh coffee and a muffin or scone to her later in the morning and she wanted to get a good start before then.

      After yesterday’s gloom and cloud, today’s sunshine was a delightful contrast and the warmth filled her with a new vigor. The new gardener was busy already, thinning out the spent roses, and Avery could already see the progress he’d made on the weeds that tenaciously asserted their presence. Seeing her father’s favorite garden being restored to its former glory filled her with happiness although, even here, he hadn’t allowed Avery too close.

      She didn’t remember her mother ever working out here—she’d died when Avery was only five. But her father had told her of her mother’s joy in planning the garden, how hands-on she’d been in its planting, how closely she’d supervised the garden staff to ensure her precious plants received the care she knew they deserved. Those memories had driven him out here again and again, striving perhaps to rediscover the closeness he’d shared with his dead wife for far too short a time.

      Avery’s favorite memories of this garden had included a small but perfect marble-angel statue—one to which she’d poured her child’s heart out to as her mother grew less and less accessible. Diagnosed with cancer during her pregnancy with Avery, Sybil Cullen had eschewed treatment until her baby girl had been born, only then embracing all that the medical professionals could offer her. It had given her five years with her treasured daughter and Avery had always associated the statue with her mother. She’d been devastated to come to the garden a few weeks after her mother’s funeral to find the statue gone.

      Apparently, deeply depressed after his wife’s death, Forrest Cullen had found its presence to be an angelic reminder of his own personal tragedy and that nothing ever remained the same. He’d sold it with no compunction. On finding his daughter desolately sobbing in the garden when she should have been safely tucked up in bed, he had been shaken to learn just how fond of the statue Avery had been. He’d done his best to buy it back but had eventually given up as it appeared to have disappeared from the art world without a trace. Avery had recently set up a message board on the internet to try to discover the statue. She was prepared to pay just about anything to get it back where it belonged.

      Strangely enough that had been how she’d met her new gardener—through the forum, created specifically for tracing art and antiquities, where she’d established her message board. When he’d first made contact with her, he’d apparently been working on a ranch back in the States. It was only after she’d posted photos of the garden from her mother’s time, and then from today, that he’d mentioned he was planning to travel to London and offered a few weeks of his time to help her get the garden back in order.

      Frustrated by her own lack of progress in the garden, Avery had gone out on a limb and hired him as a casual СКАЧАТЬ