Jumping in Puddles by Barbara Elsborg Page A

the children. The garden’s such a valuable resource; it seems crazy not to use it. You should have been opening it before now.”
    He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know if anyone would want to come. Jago’s brother upset the locals when he turned this place into party central. Rock music blaring out, naked bodies all over the place, people throwing up in the village and being rude, roads jammed with traffic, lots of alcohol and drugs.”
    “You forgot the satanic worship and animal sacrifices.” Jago sauntered toward them.
    Ellie gaped at his black eye and the graze on his cheek.
    “Christ, what happened to you?” Henry asked.
    Jago’s gaze slid to Ellie’s legs before he looked back to Henry. “I need to talk to you,” Jago muttered.
    “Then talk.”
    Jago tightened his mouth.
    “Say what you have to say. Ellie’s going to be staying with me for a while. She’s done more work this morning than I managed in two days. She’s had a good idea about opening the garden to raise money for Sharwood, and if you’d listened to what she had to say yesterday, you’d realize she can help you too. And what the hell happened to your face?”
    “I fell over.”
    “Into a fist? Tell me you weren’t fighting.”
    “I wasn’t fighting.” Jago thrust a crumpled piece of paper into Henry’s hand. Henry flattened it out, and as he read, Jago paced.
    “A faerie wedding?” Henry rolled his eyes.
    Ellie dropped the trowel on her foot and gave a loud yelp.
    “You okay?” Henry asked.
    She nodded.
    “Can we use flowers out of the garden?” Jago asked. “The baron’s hall is fine for the reception if we fill it with color.”
    “The flowers are no problem. We can even supply some food items for the caterers, but it’s short notice to find anyone to take that on, and alcohol will be an issue.” He turned to Ellie. “Jago’s brother wants to get married here in August, but he’s conveniently swanning around in South America and leaving us to do it all.”
    “I can help,” Ellie said and took off her gardening gloves.
    “Got thirty bottles of champagne anywhere?” Jago snapped. “Who are you anyway? What are you doing here?”
    “I…make dreams a reality.”
    Jago gave a derisive snort. “Thank God for that. So I can stop worrying about a leaking roof, how to afford a plasterer, and where I’m going to find the money for ten double beds?”
    “Give her a chance, Jago. How can a fresh set of eyes hurt?”
    “Show me round the hall, Lord Carlyle,” Ellie said. “Tell me what you’re trying to achieve, and I’ll draw up an action plan.”
    “An action plan? Right. We’ll start with my bedroom. You can test my bed.” He advanced on her, and Ellie stood her ground.
    “Is it a four-poster?” she asked.
    “No, but there’s one in the room next door.”
    “Do you have handcuffs?”
    “I prefer a whip.” He smirked.
    She smiled at him. “Fine. How many lashes would you like, Lord Carlyle?”
    Jago gaped and Henry laughed.
     
    “COME ON THEN,” Jago muttered as he strode away. “Might as well get this over with.” And then you can run back where you came from.
    Except he didn’t want her to do that. Those legs went on forever, and he was having a hard time not imagining them wrapped around his neck. Actually, he was having a hard time period. He pulled his shirt out of his pants and let it hang loose.
    Ellie caught up and walked at his side. “I hope that’s not a line you use in bed. Might as well get this over with .”
    He resisted the impulse to chuckle.
    “I know you’re under pressure and feel things are hopeless. I understand because I’ve felt like that too. I can help. I promise.”
    No, you can’t. Well, maybe you can but not in the way you’re thinking . He stuck his hand in his pocket and adjusted his overoptimistic cock currently trying to find a way through his zipper.
    “What shall I call you? My lord? Your Highness? Lord High Executioner?”
    “Master is fine.”
    She