“Where are we going?” he whispered.
“We can’t be seen displaying affection publicly,” she hissed back.
He was thrilled to hear her admit that they shared more than sparks between them, and even more thrilled at the implication that she fully intended to be right back in his arms.
She pulled him into the labyrinthine shadows of the Dark Walk and turned to face him.
Probably turned to face him. He could see nothing but her outline.
“I missed you,” he said to the darkness.
Two soft hands slid into his. “I missed you, too.”
His heart leapt for joy. His brain knew better. He was going to hate it when she left.
“Let me write a biography about you,” he said impulsively.
It would give them a reason to spend more time together. And it would be something to remember her by when she was gone.
Her warm chuckle tickled him through the darkness. “There’s nothing to write. Wait until I’m a famous adventurer.”
But they both knew that would never happen. Once she left, she would be gone for good.
“I should start now,” he insisted. “There’s always a Part One, before the famous adventurer becomes famous. Later, you’ll be too hard to track down. All my information will come from snippets I collect from the newspapers.”
Silence stretched between them. Thad did not know if the picture he’d painted brought her joy or sorrow.
“All right,” she said at last. “And when you’re a famous biographer, I’ll be the one who can tell my fellow adventurers, ‘C’est mon cher Thaddeus! Ah, I knew him when.’”
His visceral reaction to that image was definitely bittersweet. Was there no hope for something more?
He dropped his hands from hers and slid his fingers to cup her face instead.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
He lowered his head toward hers. “Waiting for a sign.”
Just as his lips touched hers, the orchestra sprang into song, filling the air all around them with a crescendo of music and beauty.
Thad barely heard it. Priscilla’s mouth was beneath his, and her hands were in his hair. He could think of nothing but holding her a little longer, cherishing her warmth, committing each moment to memory.
With each press of her body against his, each touch of their tongues, each leap in his racing pulse, he fell into her and she into him until it felt like nothing else existed but their kiss.
He told her with each kiss, each caress, exactly how he felt. It wasn’t love, he assured himself desperately. Not yet. But the emotion was perilously close. He was either teetering on the brink of his greatest adventure or the precipice of despair.
He would not be in Part Two of her story, but he damn well was going to be more than a footnote in Part One. Whether she crossed the endless sea or trudged across an African desert, every time the world she’d left behind fluttered to mind, he wanted it to be this moment, this kiss, this embrace. The man whose arms wrapped so tight about her.
And as his hungry mouth covered hers once more, the heavens filled with fireworks.
Chapter 9
The colorful fireworks exploding overhead matched the syncopated intensity of Priscilla’s racing heart. She clung to Thaddeus, the seclusion of the private walks leaving her free to kiss him to her heart’s content.
But was there any achievable quantity of kisses that could ever be enough?
She didn’t know, and right now she didn’t care. The only things that mattered were the feel of his strong arms and the heat of his intoxicating kisses.
It was more than the warmth of his skin, the sturdy strength of him beneath her hands. When she was with him, she felt like the center of his world. His attention never wavered, his gaze never faltered, his embrace always ready and waiting to receive her.
