‘I’m sure it will. It’s all starting to look very civilised,’ he said.
She took a few steps away from him, then turned back to face him.
‘There’s something else I want to show you,’ she said. ‘Something I... I didn’t discuss with you. I’m hoping it will meet with your approval.’
He was used to her being nervous around his forbidding self. But this was different. She had paled under her light tan and was wringing her hands together. He couldn’t imagine why.
‘You’d better show me,’ he said.
‘Just before I do,’ she said, ‘I want to let you know that I did it with the best of intentions, no matter what you might think.’
His interest roused, he followed her to a prominent bed in an open part of the garden behind the fountain. Looking from the house, he realised it would be in the line of vision from most of the windows of the house.
The stone wall behind the bed had been cleaned and repaired and the two antique planters put back in their place and planted with some spiky-leaved plant.
But that wasn’t what Shelley was showing him. The actual garden bed had been completely cleared of weeds and whatever plants had turned up their toes from years of neglect. The earth had been freshly turned over. He realised this was where he’d seen Shelley digging and planting for most of the morning.
He drew his brows together. ‘They’re plants, I know, but they look to me like a whole lot of brown sticks with a few green shoots here and there.’
‘They’re roses,’ she said. ‘This is a perfect aspect for roses and I hope they’ll thrive here. I’ve planted two varieties of roses here. In late spring they’ll be glorious.’
‘Yes?’ he said. What was the big deal here?
She looked up at him, her eyes a little wary. ‘At the back I’ve planted a vibrant orange and pink rose called “Lisa”.’
Declan’s heart seemed to stop beating and he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.
Shelley didn’t seem to expect any response from him as she continued. ‘The smaller bushes in the front have an exquisite pale pink bloom with a sweet scent. The rose is called “Miss Alice”.’
Declan felt as if his throat were swelling to choke any attempt at speech. The grief he’d felt at the loss of his wife and daughter came flooding back. But with that grief came a new emotion of gratitude for the woman who had made this gesture.
‘Thank you,’ he finally managed to get out. ‘It was very...thoughtful of you.’
Shelley expelled a great sigh of relief and he realised the tension she had been holding. ‘The “Lisa” rose is probably what you could call a...a vivacious rose. Like Lisa herself, you told me.’
Shelley’s eyes were misting with tears. His tears had long run dry.
Her voice was so low he had to lean down to catch it.
‘This was Daphne’s garden and the daphne she planted remains a memorial for her,’ she said. ‘Then it was Lisa’s garden and I hope the roses will be a beautiful tribute to her and...and to baby Alice.’
Declan was astounded at how thoughtful Shelley had been. It was something his billions could never have bought. But it was almost too much for him to be able to deal with.
‘Thank you. What you’ve done is...extraordinary. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. And for honouring Lisa and Alice in this way.’
He didn’t mean for those words to sound so final but it was the best he could do. His remembered grief was all mixed up with his gratitude for what Shelley had done for him. Something that was so utterly right. He honestly couldn’t think of anyone else he knew who would have the heart, the compassion and the imagination required.
He started to shake and before he knew it Shelley’s arms were around him and he was holding her tight.
* * *
Shelley closed her eyes and leaned against Declan’s hard strength, loving the feel of those powerful arms around her. During those secret, stolen moments watching him work out this was what she’d been wanting.
Was he hugging her—or in his memory was he hugging Lisa?
This was a man who had genuinely loved his wife. So devastated by grief at her loss he was unable to move on.
She had not believed in such love. Certainly had not experienced it. But now she’d seen it, she wanted it for herself.
She wanted it from him. She couldn’t deny that any longer. The lying to herself had to stop.
But was Declan’s love all used up?
It would be a tragedy if that was the case. Not just for him but for her.
Because she was falling for him in spite of the very real risk to her heart.
WAS SHE IN any way envious of her sister and her fiancé’s happiness? Dressing for her sister’s engagement party, Shelley couldn’t help but question herself about love, life and relationships. Her answer? Maybe.
Not that she wished she had Keith for herself—he was a very nice man but she wasn’t the slightest bit attracted to him. He was perfect for Lynne—they complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Above all they were head over heels in love. Keith was a jeweller and had given Lynne a lovely ruby ring he had designed just for her.
It wasn’t the engagement ring that Shelley envied. The envy thing happened when she’d witness her sister and her guy planning their wedding, the family they intended to have, their future together. They were so darn committed to that future. So certain of each other.
And her? Teetering on the edge of falling in love with a man who had said point-blank he had nothing to give her.
Her sister’s joy brought Shelley’s own situation into focus. She was twenty-eight. Marriage. Children. They were something she’d always thought would happen in the future. When her career was established. When she’d met the right man. But that man had proved to be elusive.
There’d been one proposal—from a guy she had dated during her final year at university. He’d come from a prominent horse-training family and they’d met through their common love of horses. She’d been very fond of him but she’d known fond wasn’t enough even though he’d been what her grandmother had called good marriage material.
More recently there had been Steve—the married man she hadn’t known was married. Afterwards she had beaten herself up for having been so easily deceived. But it had certainly seemed like love at the time. And it had hurt.
And now there was Declan. Not married. But—in a way—still married.
Maybe she needed to have a good long look at herself—did she have a thing for unavailable men? And what could she do about it? Accept steady, nice Mark’s long-standing and often repeated invitation to dinner?
She sighed. How could she when she was already in so deep with Declan even though it seemed impossible? How could she give another man a thought? Declan eclipsed anyone she’d ever met. And it wouldn’t be fair on Mark—or any other man whom she might date.
Her hopes for the future did include marriage and children. But not for the sake of it. No settling for second best, no settling for fond because she feared time was running out. Women had children well into their thirties, their forties even. There was no need to panic. But children were definitely on her wish list, which brought to mind another question. Would