Emerald Garden Read Online Free PDF Page B

know it’s a sin to think of myself, but I feel so utterly, totally alone.”
    “You’re not alone.” Jaw clenched, Quentin sought the strength to soothe her. “I’m here.”
    “Thank God,” she whispered again, her voice muffled against his coat.
    “When the news reached me, I caught the first ship leaving for England.” He swallowed. “But I’m too late for the funerals.”
    Hearing the anguish in his voice, Brandi raised her head. “It doesn’t matter. The church was so crowded, you wouldn’t have been able to say a proper goodbye. Here you can.” She gestured inanely behind her. “I just placed fresh flowers on their graves—geraniums; Pamela’s favorite. I picked them yesterday at Emerald Manor. They’re beautiful—so beautiful, in fact, that before I left Townsbourne this morning I placed a few on Papa’s grave.” Her lips trembled. “And Mama’s, as well. Do you know what I was thinking?”
    “No,” Quentin answered gently. “What were you thinking?”
    “That Papa can finally be happy now. That after twenty years he and Mama are together again.”
    Reflexively, Quentin smoothed damp wisps of hair from Brandi’s forehead. “That’s a lovely thought. Also an accurate one. Ardsley never cared for anyone after your mother died. Except you.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “I don’t have to tell you how much your father adored you. He loathed seeing you unhappy.” A small nostalgic smile played about Quentin’s lips. “I can still recall how devastated he was the first time Poseidon threw you.”
    “He was terribly upset,” Brandi agreed in a choked whisper.
    “Upset? I was fortunate he didn’t shoot my horse on the spot. And to think you weren’t even injured.”
    “My pride was in shambles,” Brandi returned, the haunted look fading a bit. “Papa knew how much I hated defeat.”
    “And how badly you took it, even at eight years old.”
    A half-smile curved her lips. “True.”
    “Sunbeam.” Quentin sobered, tilting Brandi’s face up to his. “Ardsley wouldn’t want you grieving like this.”
    She nodded. “I know.” Inhaling sharply, she studied Quentin’s face as if truly seeing him for the first time since he’d appeared. “These lines weren’t here before,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the corners of his compelling hazel eyes. “Nor was this.” Her fingers glided upward, through the damp strands of his dark hair, pausing at those spots now tinged with gray.
    An odd expression crossed his face before he gave her a rueful smile. “In case you’ve forgotten, four years have passed. My thirtieth birthday came and went.”
    “No.” She shook her head. “Age has nothing to do with it. Experience does.” She lowered her arms, twisting her hands in the folds of her cape. “How did you endure it? Facing death every day, watching others die? I can’t even withstand three losses.”
    “You’re being too hard on yourself, Sunbeam. These three losses were not mere acquaintances; they were your family.”
    “Yes.” Her eyes welled up again. “They were.”
    “You’ve changed, too, you know,” he added hastily, speaking his thoughts aloud, uncensored, in order to distract her.
    His ploy was successful.
    “Have I?” She looked more curious than pleased. “How?”
    “You’ve grown up.” Even as he spoke the words, he realized how very true they were. When he’d left, she’d been a vibrant, clever little imp, rife with the promise of beauty and allure, yet just shy of grasping it. In four years, she’d come into her own. The fine-boned features—no longer streaked with dirt—were accentuated by bottomless dark eyes and a luxuriant cloud of cinnamon hair. “You’ve become a beautiful young woman,” he concluded aloud.
    “Maybe.” She sighed. “But I’ve hated every minute of it, just as I promised you I would.”
    An unexpected chuckle rumbled in Quentin’s throat. “Oh, Sunbeam, I’ve missed you.” He shook his head in