Chapter 11

Levi was still recovering from the shock of their kiss when she asked him about the garden.

How was it that sharing that part of himself made him feel even more vulnerable than the physical closeness between them?

"What is there to tell?" he asked, hoping to deter her, but she continued.

"Why roses?" she asked, and he had to look away from her, off into the distance as he decided whether or not to tell her the full story.

Eventually, he realized that she wasn't going to go away until he explained it in one way or another.

"My mother loved roses," he said, finally. "My brother grew a garden for her, attempting to win her love by giving her the flowers that she adored. I'm not sure whether he succeeded or not, for she wasn't one who would ever say. When our estate burned down, so too did the rose garden."

"So, you planted one here for your mother – or for your brother?"

It was a good question.

"Both, I suppose." He paused, revelling in the strange sensation that here, in this moment, in this grove where the garden lived, he could tell her anything and she wouldn't judge him for it, nor use it against him in some way in the future. "I always thought that the roses were just like my mother – beautiful on the outside, but somewhat prickly when you came too close. I do think, however, that she loved us in her own way. She just didn't know how to show it, didn't know if she was supposed to.

"My brother was the kind of man who didn't care how she treated him – he just wanted to give her that love in whatever way he could. He was the best kind of man there ever was."

"I am sure he would be happy with what you are doing to keep his memory alive," she said quietly, and he noted the tear in her eye from listening to his story.

He swallowed his own emotion.

"He should be here instead of me," he said, his voice raw as he looked in the distance, unable to meet her gaze any longer as the shame ran through him again.

She caught his attention once more when she placed her hand on his arm. "Don't ever say that."

"It's the truth," he said, knowing he was practically glaring at her, but needing her to understand. "Before I became… this, I was not the best of men. I was your typical second son, enjoying life without worrying about the consequences of my actions. Drinking, gambling, womanizing. My brother figured I needed purpose, so he bought me a commission in the army. It was there I became a different man. All thanks to him."

He knew he sounded as though he was feeling sorry for himself, but he needed her to understand.

"Perhaps you are not a different man, but you added more parts to yourself," she said in that soft, melodic tone of hers, her hand still on his arm as she stared up at him imploringly. "Isn't that who we are? A sum of our experiences? I can tell you that I am not the same woman who agreed to marry Lord Mulberry, but I am not a different woman, either. I have simply grown."

To have grown, not to have changed – he had never thought of it quite like that.

"You are wise beyond your years," he said, unable to fully agree with her and yet appreciating her all the same.

"I like to think I see the parts of themselves that people try to hide," she said. "Why did you plant this out here? Why not in the gardens near the house, where everyone can enjoy?"

"They grow best here," he said, even though it was a lie. It was because near the house, it seemed so exposed, a story that he didn't want to share with anyone, that he never thought he would – until Siena.

She accepted his answer, whether because she understood he didn't want to speak of it or because she believed it, he wasn't certain, but she still crouched beside the rose bush once more.

"Do you think we could pick some flowers for a vase in the house?"

He wanted to say no but then saw the hope on her face and found that he didn't have it within him to deny her.

"For your bedroom," he said, and the smile that lit her face reached right into his heart.

"Thank you," she said. "That would be wonderful."

He pulled out his pocketknife and cut the stems before he took them in hand, not wanting her to prick her finger again. They walked back to the house together at a leisurely pace, Levi leading Lucky.

"How often do you ride?" she asked.

"At least twice a day," he said, catching her surprise. "It gives me the chance to leave the house."

"Do you ever go to London?" she asked.

"No," he said swiftly. "Never."

"You are so close."

He brought a hand to his forehead, running his fingers over his scar. How could she not understand?

"Do you not understand why I would have no wish to be in London?" he asked, hearing the edge to his words but unable to help it. "I am stared at. Ridiculed. Gossiped about. People can barely look at me without flinching. No, London is not for me."

"Not everyone cares about how you look," she said softly. "I don't."

"What do you think then?" he bit out, knowing the truth would hurt but needing to know it regardless.

"I think that you are assuming what other people might think. That you are not giving them a chance."

"I have seen the looks on their faces."

"I can understand why there might be some surprise when people see what has happened to you. But your scars are not who you are but a result of what has happened to you."

"I disagree," he countered.

"I would argue that it is not your scars that keep people away but your cantankerous attitude."

He snorted, even as he knew she was right. It was easier to hide away. It didn't give others the chance to hurt him if he never let them close.

As he inhaled, a scent filled his nose – one that terrified him to the point he wasn't sure if it was truly in the air or if it was part of his nightmarish memory.

"Do you smell that?" he asked her, and she crinkled her nose most becomingly, distracting him with the way her light freckles added to the aura of sweetness that surrounded her.

"Now that you say it, perhaps I do," she said, looking around. "It smells like?—"

That's when there was a huge bang, and they both jumped, Levi immediately tucking Siena behind him as he crouched low, reaching for what was now phantom sword and pistols around his waist.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, as he could sense her trying to see around him one way and then the next.

"I'm sure it is nothing," she said optimistically.

The smell became impossible to ignore the closer they drew to the estate.

Not again.

"Smoke," he muttered, more to himself than Siena, but of course she heard him.

It was swirling in the air around them and he began to panic, the only saving grace was that Siena was here beside him, meaning that she was safe.

"Smoke?" she repeated.

Which meant?—

"Fire!"

They heard the call from the stables, and Levi froze so quickly that Siena walked right into the back of him as Lucky's reins slipped out of his hand, although the horse was well enough trained that he stopped a few paces away.

Collins, the stablehand, came running out of the door, leading two horses with him – horses that were throwing their heads in the air as they fought him due to their rising panic as they sensed not only what was chasing them out but also the stablehand's distress.

"Your Grace! You must stay away," he called out, his face dark with soot as sweat ran down his brow from beneath his cap. "The fire is at the back of the stables, but it is spreading quickly."

Levi's pulse was pounding hard as he saw the flames lick the top of the stable roof, heard the cries of the horses inside.

"How many are left?" Siena asked from behind him, although it seemed as though her voice was away in the distance as he was having difficulty focusing on anything but the turmoil within him.

"Five," the stablehand called out as he was already returning to the wooden structure.

Levi knew he should follow him. He had no wish to leave innocent horses to die. And yet, his feet refused to move, as much as he was shouting internally at them to race into the stables and save the horses.

Siena would believe him a coward forever. A scarred, simple coward.

Before he had time to consider the ramifications of that, however, a flash of lilac caught his eye, and it took him a few moments before he realized that Siena had run past him – and was heading right into the stables.

"Siena!" he yelled out. "No!"

This time he didn't give himself any time to think.

He didn't have to tell his feet what to do, because they acted of their own accord, moving toward the stables, chasing after Siena, desperate to stop her before she entered and put herself in danger.

He had just made it to the stable doors when there was a crash from within, and the smoke came billowing out. He came to a halt, as he fought with himself, torn between turning around and running away as fast as he could, and racing inside to save Siena.

Another servant ran by him – a footman, although he couldn't make out which – and Levi felt even more foolish that he couldn't enter to save a woman in his care as well as his own horseflesh.

Him, a soldier. An officer.

"Siena!" he called again, much more desperately this time, and his heart seemed to burst with relief when she reappeared from the smoke, leading one of his horses out, the stablehand following behind with two more and the footman with the last of them.

They all appeared unharmed although were coughing from the smoke. Siena's dress, previously a beautiful lilac, was covered in soot and smudges.

"Your Grace, quickly!" the stablehand said as he urged the horses out in front of him, and as he did so there was a huge crack from within as one of the stable supports must have given out.

Siena's horse bolted into the air, its front legs pawing desperately for support, and Levi finally moved, jumping toward her, wrapping his arms around her and knocking her out of the way and onto the ground as she let go of the reins and the horse ran free.

She landed with an "oof," but Levi took the brunt of the fall.

Wincing in pain, he didn't want to risk them being caught in any further fallout from the fire, and he bent down, ignoring the twinging on his right side as he lifted Siena, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her away from the stable. When they were a fair distance away, he set her down as gently as he could, crashing to the ground beside her as they watched the flames take over the stable.

"Oh, Levi," she said, a hand over her mouth. "I am so sorry."

He was still catching his breath as the rushing through his veins began to ebb away, leaving him feeling empty and shallow instead.

"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. "For what?"

"For the loss of your stable," she said. "Are you all right?"

Her eyes ran over him, and he could tell that she was not asking about his physical ailments, for she was the one who had entered the stables, who had put herself in danger, and saved a horse who wouldn't have otherwise made it.

Never before had he felt like less of a man.

And that was saying something.