The smell of coffee woke her. It took a moment for her to work out why her room would smell like freshly brewed coffee, why she could hear the clink of cups and cutlery, why the skin around her mouth felt sensitive, why her body felt so different.
She turned over. Gabriel, a towel around his hips, was pouring coffee from a silver pot.
“I hope you didn’t go down to the kitchen wearing my pink towel?”
He turned and flashed her his bright smile. “I did worse than that. I opened your bedroom door wearing it, and Cook was standing outside with this tray.”
She stretched feeling lazy and sexy. “So, our secret is no longer a secret.”
“I doubt it ever was, since we have coffee and croissants for two.”
She laughed. She didn’t really care who found out. Then a thought occurred to her. “Is your luggage still downstairs?”
He brought over a mug and plate and slid under the cover beside her.
“Is this for me or you?” she asked teasing.
“I thought we could share.” He gave her the mug so she could drink first. “As for my luggage, it’s all unpacked and organised in the blue room.”
“Who gave you the blue room?” The blue suite was next door, not where Nicole’s rooms had been, but on the other side. A door connected her little study to his.
“I asked for it.” He said taking a bite of one croissant.
Her previously fabulous pace to live had suddenly become a hundred time more fabulous. She hid her smirk as she handed him the coffee. “Aren’t you a bit presumptuous?”
He laughed. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“After last night, I’d say it was a bit late for either of us to play hard to get.” She lay her head against his bare chest.
He drew in a sharp breath, making his chest swell under her cheek. Moving the now empty plate and coffee mug to the bedside table, he turned all serious. “I have something to tell you, and I’m not going to be presumptuous. You can think about this and make your own decision.”
She sat up and shifted slightly so she could look at him.
“Yesterday, I had a talk with Lord M.”
Yesterday? “When did you get here?”
He chuckled. “Oh Rapunzel, I arrived on the first ferry. Irushedhere.” He squeezed her hand on the word, “But you were already out. I was here waiting for you all day.”
“Sorry. I was—”
“Shhh.” He pulled her onto his lap.
“If I’d known you were waiting—”
“I was, but—” He trailed soft kisses along her jaw. “—I’ve been waiting a long time, and you my love are worth it.” He kissed her mouth.
She broke away a little later. “So, what do you want to tell me?”
He grew serious again. “You remember when I told you I didn’t know what my dream was.”
She remembered. He’d told her twice: over lunch when they first met and again at the New Moon Festival.
“I knew that I didn’t want to take pictures of celebrities, or events.” he said. “But it was only when I got here, when we went to the Plough Festival, when you took me to all those ancient sites and places with their own stories, I realised—” he squeezed her to him. “What I really want is to tell stories through my photographs, the magic and fantasy hidden in ordinary things.” His hands moved ceaselessly through her hair, over her back and arms; he seemed unable to stop touching her.
“So, while I was away” — He stroked a gentle finger down her face — “I googled La Canette and discovered our book had already attracted a lot of attention and even some interest in the Plough Festival. It occurred to me that you and I could create more picture books about the island.”
The idea was brilliant; she’d thought of it herself, but it had needed a good photographer. One who could do what only Gabriel could, show the magic and fantasy hidden in life.
