Donna Clayton - Royal Seduction

Portland’s Classical Chinese Garden was a walled oasis. Located smack-dab in the center of “old town,” the gardens encompassed a full block of serpentine walkways, open colonnades and Asian architecture. The landscape was meticulously arranged with rare and unusual plants, mosaic stone paths and a small bridged lake.

Delight shined from Catherine’s eyes when they entered, and Riley told her, “Believe it or not, this used to be a parking lot. Back in the eighties, Portland became a sister city with Suzhou, China. Not long after, this land was donated and construction began on the garden.”

For several long moments they walked in silence, simply enjoying the sights, sounds and scents of nature.

Closing her eyes, she tipped up her chin and inhaled. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “I just love jasmine. Always have.”

Riley let his gaze trail down the long length of her milky throat. He envisioned himself pressing his nose to her heated, silky skin.

Realization suddenly struck. “That’s what you smell like. Jasmine.”

Her blue eyes sparked with appreciation, and warmth rushed to his face. He had no idea why he felt embarrassed over his remark. This woman made him react in the most peculiar ways.

“I—I couldn’t place the flowery scent in your perfume before,” he stammered. “But now I know. It’s jasmine.”

Her wide mouth curled softly. Deliciously. He got the distinct sense that she was grateful he’d noticed. The expression on her lovely face caused a repositioning of the warmth that had been in his face and neck, and the heat raced right to the pit of his gut.

“A French perfumery makes this scent just for me,” she said, and as soon as the words slipped from her lips, she looked annoyed.

“What is it?”

One wavy blond tress fell over her shoulder when she shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she told him.

“Of course it’s something. Your brow is knitted tighter than the wool scarf my mother sent me for my birthday.” He stopped, deciding not to take another step on the stone pathway until she answered his question.

She halted a couple steps ahead and then had to turn to face him. Evidently realizing she’d have to confess, she shrugged. “It’s just that I’m not a good liar.”

He chuckled. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Well, I wanted to spend my time in Portland as any other average, ordinary woman.” Irony tightened one corner of her mouth. “But average, ordinary women don’t have perfume specially blended in France, do they?”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about her query. But one thing was clear. Faye had been correct; Catherine was a cut above. Just how far above, he had no idea.

“Catherine,” he began, “even without your small slipup, there’s no way that I’d ever think you were average. There’s not one thing about you that’s ordinary.”

Her countenance only became more glum and that made him chuckle out loud. But he quickly checked himself. People visiting the gardens liked the quiet. It was what they came here for.

“Stop that frowning,” he ordered. “Sticking out in a sea of standard isn’t a bad thing, Catherine. Some people can’t help it. And you’re one of them.”

Her face brightened a little. “If anyone ever asks me, I’ll just have to say that, no matter how grumpy the good doctor can be, he certainly can give nice compliments.”

He waved off her teasing. They started off down the path, and the heel of Catherine’s shoe caught on the stones. She lurched forward. Riley caught her by the upper arm and automatically drew her securely against his chest.

He couldn’t tell if the warm scent of jasmine in the air was coming from the flowers nearby or from her skin. Her golden hair brushed his cheek like the feathers of an angel’s wing.

“I’m sorry. These shoes aren’t very good on this uneven ground.” He supported her while she lifted one knee and bent to rub her ankle.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he told her. “I should have known better than to bring you—”

“Stop,” she insisted, lowering her foot back to the ground. “I’m fine. But can we sit for few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He led her to a nearby pavilion and they sat on the bench. A waterfall gurgled just behind them, and peace seemed to permeate the very air.

“This place is just wonderful,” Catherine breathed.

“I come here often. I enjoy trying to figure out the meaning behind the poetry couplets that are scattered throughout the garden. And I like the fact that each artistic effect in the garden has an important symbolic meaning.”

She nodded. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?”

“When we first arrived,” she said, “I couldn’t understand why a man like you would even know about a place like this.”

He didn’t understand. “A man like me?” He lifted one hand, palm up. “A place like this?”

“You have to admit that you and this garden are, well, opposites. Close your eyes a second and feel it. This place is serene and stress-free, content to simply exist. Sure, I hardly know you, but from what I’ve witnessed, you’re none of those things.”

Her tongue skipped across her dusky lips, and Riley had to force himself not to stare.

“But the poetry and the symbolism,” she continued, “make this a thinking man’s garden, now don’t they?”

Riley felt discomfited. He wasn’t sure he liked being analyzed. She’d done the same thing earlier today, evaluated his character.

“You don’t have to answer.” She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Catherine crossed her long, sexy legs, then leaned forward, resting her forearm on her knee. She looked down at the ground, and then tipped up her chin to gaze into his face. Like a magnet, her creamy cleavage drew his gaze.

Something amazing gathered in those deep blue eyes of hers. And just as amazing were the mysterious tendrils that seemed to sprout from the very ground and climb along his legs, grappling and grasping and plucking at him.

Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

The phantom whisper seemed to come from nowhere. And everywhere. Every leaf, every drop of water, every pebble and rock vibrated with a wraithlike energy that called him to act.

The urge to reach out and stroke the graceful line of her jaw nearly overpowered him.

Riley’s mouth went desert-dry, and he cleared his throat with a small cough.

“We should go,” he told her. He stood, before the strange spell completely smothered all his good and logical sense. “I have other places for you to see, other things for us to do. This is a tour, remember.”

Determination resided on her pretty face, hinting that she was quite happy with the “thing” they were doing right now. But he pushed the issue by holding out his hand to her.

And after exhaling a quick, regretful sigh, she took it.

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