That night, Dawn settled into bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin and listened to Mouse’s puffs and wheezes as she waited for sleep to catch her. Lettie’s screams no longer kept Dawn awake at night. A twinge of guilt stabbed through her. It seemed wrong to roll over and go to sleep while the other woman screamed in agony. Another part of her was realistic. Fatigue pulled at her limbs and she needed sleep to face another day. There was nothing yet she could do to alleviate her new friend’s distress. Not until she determined how Ava had affected Lettie’s mind.

Tonight, it was no scream that awoke her from a deep slumber, but a loud thump. She sat up, clutching the blankets and trying to place the noise. It was probably just Mouse moving around in his sleep. His large tail could deliver quite a thump. Just as she settled back down, the noise came again. She squinted in the low light. Mouse lay on the rug, but he lifted his head from the rug and pricked his ears toward the front door.

The thump came again, loud and frantic as someone pounded on the cottage door. Dawn pushed the blankets off her body. Something important must have happened for Jasper to rouse her in the middle of the night. Perhaps a raven had returned with the answers to the questions Jasper asked of the Lord Warder guarding Whetstone.

Mouse growled and half rose, his long body low to the floor.

“It will most probably be Hector,” Dawn said as her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor.

Mouse’s growl deepened and his hackles rose. He stalked to the bedroom door and blocked her way. His head was fixated on the front door, where someone continued to pound. Now the unseen visitor rattled the iron door handle, testing if the door would yield.

A chill swept up Dawn’s body. Mouse barely lifted his head when family approached and never growled. So who was trying to gain access to the cottage? The dog’s growl turned into snarls and he blocked Dawn’s path. He refused to budge, and given he weighed as much if not more than Dawn, she was trapped, or secured, in the bedroom.

She was grateful she had thrown the bolt and turned the key in the lock. The solid oak door would endure any banging. The thumping stopped, but Mouse still growled. Before Dawn could sigh in relief, something hit the window.

“No,” she whispered, one hand going to her chest. No one in the family would attempt to smash the windows. She glanced back to the bed. In her drowsy state, she couldn’t remember if she closed the shutters or not. She had and the little window over the bed was fastened.

The rapping continued like a message tapped out in Morse code, but one of dread and fear that echoed through Dawn’s body. Mouse’s muzzle curled up as he snarled, and saliva dripped off his sharp canines. His eyes tracked something outside that travelled along the wall. His muscles bunched as he prepared to pounce as soon as the intruder gained entrance.

Dawn froze while her heart pounded frantically in her chest. There was nothing she could do. There was no weapon in the bedroom apart from the heavier books. Mouse blocked the only entrance and exit. She could only hope that somewhere out there, one raven still kept a lazy watch on the cottage from its perch in the surrounding trees.

Then silence fell as though a sudden storm had blown over. Mouse licked his lips, and he took a step forward out into the parlour. His ears swivelled as he scanned for any sound. His nose wrinkled and his head swung back and forth as he sought any trace of the invader.

Dawn followed for a step but stayed at the bedroom door. The only sound was the thrum of blood in her ears.

A quiet tap came at the door and Dawn glanced to her protector. The fur on his back dropped, and the tail gave a slow wag back and forth that signalled family, but could it be a trap?

The rap sounded again and a familiar voice called out, “Dawn? It’s Jasper. Are you all right?”

Relief shot through her body, and both woman and dog rushed to the door. She pulled back the bolt and turned the key. For a second she hesitated and glanced to the dog. Would he know if trickery were afoot? Would he sense if a creature beyond masqueraded as Jasper? The dog’s head turned to her and his expression seemed unconcerned.

“Please truly be Jasper,” she whispered, and then in a moment of bravery, she pulled the door open.

Jasper stood on the step. A rich blue velvet robe was pulled around his naked torso, loose linen trousers enclosed his legs, and his feet were bare. From under tousled hair, worry tugged at the corners of his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“It was her, wasn’t it?” She peered around him but saw only the silver-washed wall across the way and the lime chip path that gave off a dull luminescence.

Jasper stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him. “Yes. The raven saw her trying to find a way into the cottage. I came as quickly as I could.”

Her heart still pounded in her chest and the long shadows cast by the moon made her shiver. “Would you stay a while, please?”

His eyes were silver in the dark, liquid as mercury as his gaze dropped to her shoulder. “Yes.”

At that point it occurred to Dawn that she was only wearing a light nightgown. The neck had dropped over one shoulder and exposed her collarbone. She tugged the soft fabric back up. Fear shifted in her body and bloomed into something hotter, but it still made her shiver. This was something she wasn’t ready for. Not yet. She needed to do something to occupy both hands and mind before she made a mistake fuelled by residual fear and a need to have another person with her.

Etiquette demanded tea for unexpected visitors, even if they were deliciously under-dressed with a tantalising glimpse of exposed chest. “If you light the lamps, I will boil the kettle for tea.”

She knew the way in the dark with only the slivers of moonlight to guide her way. First, she padded to her bedroom and fetched a cotton robe that she knotted tight around her waist.

Jasper lit the two lamps attached to the wall on either side of the fireplace, and a soft yellow light flared and chased away the shadows.

She made two mugs of tea and carried them over to the worn but comfortable armchairs. Jasper had coaxed the small fire in the hearth back to life, and Mouse sat at his side. The earl took a mug from her cold hands and then Dawn curled up in one of the chairs. She tucked her feet under her and wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the faintly bergamot-scented steam warm her face.

“Do you think she knows what I plan to do and is trying to stop me?” Dawn addressed the tea rather than the man at her side.

Jasper dropped into the empty armchair. “Yes. Ava doesn’t like losing, and she is rather possessive. But you don’t undertake this endeavour alone, Dawn. I will stand beside you throughout.”

Jasper couldn’t save Julian, and he won’t be able to save you. She shook her head to dispel the words and sipped her tea. Had the war begun before she even knew there was a battle? “Could Ava have locked me in the pineapple pit?”

Jasper frowned and stared at his tea.

“And she was on the roof of the glasshouse the day the pane was dislodged.”

The frown grew into a scowl and his fingers tightened around the mug.

“It has been fortunate that so far either you or Elijah have been nearby. But you cannot be everywhere, all the time.” Had Ava disrupted the dirt on the hill that Dawn fell through or had that, at least, been entirely an accident? Her wrist throbbed, but Dawn didn’t have the energy to rub the unquiet wound.

“I don’t have to be everywhere, just where you are.” His voice was rough like gravel and was weighted with concern.

They both stared at the flames, struggling to make light conversation. Some words were too heavy to be said in the quiet of night. Yet that companionable silence told her as much about the man as a full afternoon of conversation. There was no need to say anything, he simply kept her company and let her know she was not alone. When she needed him, he had appeared.

When she yawned for the third time, Jasper spoke. “Why don’t you go back to bed? Mouse and I will keep watch while you sleep.”

“Thank you.” She dropped the mug to the side table and rose. Jasper took her hand as she passed and she paused. He raised her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss over them. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”

At first light Dawn pulled on her robe and peered around her bedroom door. Jasper still sat in the armchair although his shoulders were slumped. Mouse lay at his feet, keeping his master’s bare toes warm as the fire guttered and burned low.

He tracked her with tired eyes as she crossed to stand by the fireplace.

“Good morning,” she said to both man and canine. She felt as worn as the earl looked.

Jasper pushed himself upright and ran a hand through his hair. Dark stubble covered his jawline. He looked unkempt, tired, and utterly delicious. “Good morning. I should probably return to the main house. I’ll send Elijah or Hector to keep your company if you like?”

She managed a wan smile. “I’ll be fine now that it’s light and the estate is waking up. The workmen will arrive soon, and I have a busy day planned. You look like you could do with a few hours of sleep.”

His robe fell open as he rose to his feet, and Dawn’s gaze dropped to the lines etched between the muscles of his abdomen. Did all noblemen hide such physiques under their fine clothing, or was it a Warder trait?

He pulled the robe closed and tightened the belt as his lips quirked in the ghost of a smile. “The raven is on watch should you need anything. Keep Mouse by you. He will alert you if Ava approaches again.”

He reached out and folded her into his arms. Dawn tilted her chin and met his gaze. In case he didn’t get the hint, she rose on the balls of her feet. The smile broke over his face as his head dropped and he kissed her. He pressed a light, gentle swipe on her mouth and then he let her go.

“I should get back before I am missed. Know that you are not alone, and we are all vigilant to ensure Ava doesn’t reach you. I want you to have time to make your own decision about this thing between us, like you asked.” He traced the line of her jawbone with a fingertip and then was gone.

Dawn shut the door on his retreating back. She slid the bolt across and leaned against the ancient piece of wood. Time. The thing he offered was also the one thing in short supply. Did she really have time to decide whether to accept all he offered? How long before either the Ravensblood tree died, Ava succeeded in driving her away, Lettie succumbed to her madness, or Dawn’s unreliable heart gave out?

She blew out a sigh. She needed to stop time. To still the world on its axis so she could mull over her options. And more importantly, she wanted time with her mother to unburden everything and hear her advice.

Dawn wiped a tear from her cheek. “First things first, Mouse. I shall get dressed.”

She washed, bathed her wrist again, and then downed another spoonful of tonic. Finally dressed and slightly more confident in the morning sunshine, Dawn walked down to the courtyard to find her willing labourers. The men were like a force of nature, sweeping away years of neglect before them. Today they would burn the herbaceous borders. It had taken two days to lay the ground work for what they would do. First the men had to dig a trench along the side of the hedge, to create a sort of fire break. Then they carted old hay from the barn, laying it down thick over the weeds and sickly plants. They were careful to leave a one foot gap in front of the hedge.

With water and blankets at the ready, they were finally at the next stage. Dawn struck a match and lit a pile of hay.

Dry strands caught and burned quickly, puffing out of existence before the flames reached too far. Soon the entire length of the border smouldered and thick smoke rose up into the air. Fire would cleanse the borders, and the carbon would renew the earth when they dug it back in. That just left the sheltering yew. Dawn hadn’t decided whether it could be rescued from the python killing it or if they would be better to chop it all out and plant new.

“You enjoy setting fire to my estate far too much,” Jasper said from beside her.

Dawn kept a careful watch on the smoking hay. “I do believe cleansing fire was your idea, and rather a good one as it turned out. It seems to be the only thing that can tackle that vine, although I wait every moment for it to mount a return assault.”

“It amazes me the progress you make every day. Have you thought where you would locate your ladies’ walk and secret nook?”

Oh, to have the time to create a new area for the long-neglected estate. “I have. I thought running off the rose garden and back toward the forest walk?”

“Show me.” He held out his hand.

Hector grinned at them. “You two go, I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

She placed her hand in Jasper’s and he pulled her closer. They walked together along an overgrown path, kicking scraggly shrubs out of the way as they went. The rose garden was to the east of the house. The beds were laid out in a geometric design with square and rectangular beds making the inside of the design. A once-bright white lime path wound between the beds, now a dull grey. Originally the garden had been a place of graceful beauty. Now it was hideous and deformed like a porcelain doll thrown into a fire that shattered and scorched.

The buxus hedging that enclosed each bed looked beyond saving. Many of the plants had died and only their little brown skeletons remained. Others grew long and tall and keeled over their neighbours. A few burst sideways and invaded the roses. The clean lines of each shaped bed had disappeared and instead grew lumpy and uneven.

On the original plan, a beautiful ornamental pond and fountain rested at the rose garden’s centre. Now a disgusting swamp of green, viscous sludge loitered in its place. An overly sweet, fetid tang wafted off the scum. Dawn wrinkled her nose.

Here Ava’s minion spread a web-like embrace over everything, like a fisherman who throws his net into the ocean to catch all in its path. The square beds were smothered by the woody fabric, and it wrapped tight around the fountain. It looked as though a madman had wound barbed wire about it.

Even the rose bushes were ugly shapes compared to what they might once have been. Long, scraggly growth had been left unchecked and thorny limbs reached as though begging for mercy. Water shoots sprouted from the base of standards and took over, obscuring the elegant shape that must have once stood on the same spot.

“It’s certainly not much to look at any more,” Jasper said. “I tried a few different gardeners over the years who responded to the advertisement, but none made any headway and most left within a week. Ava’s malicious presence tended to scare most of them away.”

“It will take a year or two to bring this back to life. I will need to grow on box cuttings from those plants with healthy growth to replace the lot. Some of the roses won’t survive a hard prune, but that gives us the opportunity to revisit the colour scheme.” Dawn peered closer at one leggy rose trying to bloom. Once it might have been pure yellow, but now it was blotchy and reminded her of a water stain on wallpaper. What blooms struggled on the plants were covered in greenfly, Dawn’s old nemesis.

Only one rose made a last stand against the decay.

“Viridiflora,” Dawn said, reaching out to touch a subtle flower. The green-tinged faux blooms had faded to coppery tones, and the entire shrub was covered in bright green growth.

Jasper stood behind her and peered over her shoulder. “It was a favourite of my mother’s.”

She turned her head to frown at him. “Really? It was not widely available in England until the 1850s, although there was talk of it reaching our shores over a hundred years ago.”

“My father brought it from China in 1740 as a gift for mother.” He plucked a single perfect bloom and tucked it behind her ear.

Dawn couldn’t imagine a more amazing love than a man who hunted out rare and beautiful flora specimens for the light of his life. Or a father who found a brilliant magenta orchid for his sickly child to bring a piece of beauty into her room.

“Did you know the flower is not made of petals, but sepals? With no flowers, she has no seed and must be propagated by hand. It is a gardener’s love that spreads her offspring around England. She may not be a showy beauty like other roses, but viridiflora has a quiet constancy about her.” Dawn admired the hardy rose. Practically evergreen, it kept going no matter what life – or Ava – threw in its way.

“Where would you put your arbour walkway?” Jasper asked.

Dawn turned and oriented herself. She raised her arms and gestured to one side of the enclosed garden. “Here, running back toward the forest.”

While her arms were outstretched, Jasper grabbed her from behind and pulled her against his chest. “I have you now.”

She laughed and turned in his arms, dropping her hands over his head. “Now you have caught me, whatever will you do with me?”

He dropped his head so his cheek brushed hers. “I have spent decades studying how to pleasure a woman, perhaps I could show you something of what I have learned?” The hot words sent a shiver down her spine.

“Did you have a tutor or was it all pictures in books?” she teased.

He growled and nipped at her neck, and she bit back a gasp.

“I knew I wasn’t imagining things. You did nip me the first night in the library. Terribly inappropriate thing for a lord to do to his head gardener.” She arched her neck, encouraging him to do it again.

He nuzzled closer. “If I would do that to my gardener, just imagine the things I would do to my landscape designer.”

The problem was she couldn’t imagine; she simply didn’t have the breadth of experience. Nor was it anything she discussed with her mother. Perhaps she should be borrowing quite different books from the lord’s library rather than the pile of botany tomes.

He exhaled over her neck and then lifted his head. “I have spoken to the Lord Warder who has a care for Whetstone.”

Dawn’s chest tightened. “Did he know my mother?”

The frown returned to his forehead. “Yes and no. He was aware of her when your family moved to Whetstone, hence the raven who watched. But he said she remained neutral and never contacted any other Elementals.”

She exhaled her disappointment. “I am no closer to knowing the truth.”

Jasper dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We just have to look deeper. It is entirely possible your mother lived her entire life neutral. Can you remember where you lived before?”

Her time before Whetstone was unremarkable. As a sickly child, she spent most of it confined to her bedroom with only very occasional forays to the outside world. “County Durham, by the coast and a few miles north of Sunderland. I didn’t like it. I found the ocean too loud and noisy, and I don’t like sand. The backyard was horrid, the salt air too unforgiving to grow much.”

He hugged her close. “Odd, County Durham is under my watch, but I have no recollection of your mother. I will ask Samuel who lives out there. We will find the answers you seek, I promise, no matter how deep they are buried.”