All too soon, though, she pulls back, leaving her hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t let her go as he looks into her eyes.
“Elowyn,” he breathes.
Is she as breathless as he is?
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. You were—”
Before she can finish, he finds her lips again. The smokiness fills his senses, alongside something else. It’s reminiscent of the waterfall they visited. There’s no other way to describe it. She’s all sparks and smoke and the mist from a waterfall.
It’s intoxicating.
Faint pain teases his lips as he deepens the kiss, but he ignores it. It’s probably from when that man took a swing at him while they were rolling around on the street.
At the moment, Rominy can’t bring himself to care.
Elowyn responds eagerly to his kiss, her fingers digging into his hair as she presses against him, all smoky warmth and refreshing waterfalls. He tugs her even closer, and his heart races for an altogether different reason. This time, her heart is racing, too, completely of its own accord.
Eventually, she pulls back again, and her eyes are round as her chest heaves while they attempt to catch their breaths. He stares into those gray eyes of hers, so perfectly matched to the smoky taste of her kiss.
She kissed him.
And then he kissed her.
And it was the most perfect thing in the world.
“Rominy—”
“You aren’t allowed to apologize for kissing me,” he says. “Ever.”
The most delightful laugh escapes her throat, drawing out his own smile as he winces at the resulting pain.
“Ow. I think that man punched me.”
She laughs again, burying her face against his chest. “I can’t believe you tackled him.”
“He attacked my wife. Of course I tackled him. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine, though my arm is sore. I think the bleeding has slowed.”
He loosens his grip on her so he can see her injured arm where it rests at her side, and bile rises in his throat again.
“Stay with me, my love,” she says as she draws his gaze back to her face.
What did she call him?
Before he can ponder her words, a knock announces the doctor’s arrival, and Rominy drops his hands and lets Elowyn go, clearing his throat as he steps away.
“Your Highness,” the man says. “I’m Dr. Fulton. I was told there was an altercation, and—” His gaze lands on Elowyn’s ears, and he does a double-take. “An elf.”
Something fierce swells within Rominy’s chest, and he steps between Elowyn and the doctor. “She’s my wife.”
“Is she really? Fascinating. And congratulations. Word of your nuptials hasn’t yet reached Wolbourne, Your Highness.” He shakes his head as if emerging from a daze. “Forgive me. I’m just so intrigued to meet an elf in person. I promise your wife is safe under my care, and from the looks of it, Your Highness”—he turns back to Elowyn—“you have a wound that needs my attention.”
“It looks worse than it is, I assure you.” Elowyn sends Rominy a reassuring smile, and he reluctantly moves out of the way.
The doctor adjusts his spectacles as he examines her arm. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Your Highness. Tell me what happened?”
“Someone threw a rock at her.” Rominy clenches his jaw to ward off the nausea filling him again.
