The Charmer Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the manor
house. At first glance it appeared to be a sturdy stone structure with much of
the front wall covered in ivy, but when he looked closer, he noticed rotting
window and doorframes. Long arms of ivy reached across some of the windows and
one slender stem threatened to get a hold in a large crack in the stonework.
    She led him to the barn near the
stables. No sound came from the stables, no neighing or stomping or chatter of
grooms. There were no horses at Stoneleigh it seemed. No horses, no children,
no young men capable of helping in the garden. It was a tomb.
    "You're employed for as long
as you wish to be, Mr. Holt," she said as they entered the barn. She
indicated the wooden stakes leaning against the far wall. "You'll be given
food and board and can come and go as you please in the afternoons as long as I
am happy with the amount of work you do in the mornings. If this arrangement is
not acceptable, you can go to Sutton Hall and ask for work there since it seems
they have plenty after all."
    Orlando sent up a silent curse.
He should have learned more about Sutton Hall and its master before he used it
in his concocted story.
    "I think I'll stay," he
said, gathering up the stakes. They were taller than he by half a body length,
but not heavy. He smiled at her because he wanted to smooth away the line that
had settled between her brows. "I like Stoneleigh."
    "Oh?"
    "I want to learn about
orange trees."
    The line cleared and her eyes
brightened. "Of course. They're a fascinating plant." She picked up a
box, and he followed her out of the barn, back to the walled garden. "My
mother planted them almost twenty years ago," she said, her voice wistful.
"She'd always been a keen gardener and liked a challenge. When she heard
that her mother's kinsman, Sir Francis Carew, had brought several plants over
from the Continent, she asked for his supplier and bought some herself. She and
Sir Francis exchanged letters on their techniques for growing the trees here in
England. They are the first to attempt to do so, you know."
    "Really?"
    "It took some
experimentation, and they both lost plants to frost but they learned. And now
look at them!"
    He did indeed look, but not at
the trees, at her. It was as if a candle had been lit inside her. Her eyes
shone and her cheeks flushed pink. Over a few trees! He didn't understand it.
    Orlando dumped the stakes to one
side of the furthermost tree and Susanna placed the box next to them. It was
filled with hammer, nails, a pruning knife, and other tools.
    "What does the fruit taste
like?" he asked.
    "The ones from these trees are
quite sweet. The ones growing further down are the bitter Seville variety, which
Mama planted earliest of all. The first crop will be ready in about two months.
You'll be gone by then."
    And so might she.
    He crouched near the bundle of stakes,
pretending to inspect them, but in truth his gut churned at the thought of
ending the life of the extraordinarily beautiful and vibrant Lady Lynden.
Surely she wasn't guilty. How could such a creature be vicious enough to end the
lives of two husbands? She didn't fit the pattern of his previous targets. He'd
felt no qualms ending the lives of those who committed the basest crimes and
gotten away with it, but Lady Lynden was different. She couldn't possibly be
guilty. Could she? And if she was, could he do what needed to be done?
    He drove a stake into the soft
earth, far enough that they wouldn't shift in anything less than a gale. After
the first one, he turned suddenly to ask if it was to her liking, and caught
her staring at him. Or at his arms, to be precise. He'd pushed his sleeves up
to above his elbows and her gaze was fixed on his bare skin.
    "Are you pleased, my lady?"
he asked, his voice sounding thicker and more seductive than he intended. He
didn't mean to flirt with her but he found he couldn't help himself.
    She blushed fiercely and quickly
looked away. "It will do, Mr. Holt."
    He worked until all the stakes