His voice comes out hoarse, and she whimpers. That’s the last thing she wants to do as his lips press kisses to her shoulder where he drew aside the strap of her gown.
A roar hits her ears, and her eyes flash open to dark skies right before a deluge of heavy rain dumps on them.
“That was sudden,” Rominy cries.
“Do you think the heartlanding is trying to tell us something?”
Rain coats both of them in seconds, re-soaking their clothes that had dried after their impromptu swim.
“You mean something like, ‘Cool it, Rominy?’” He grins, and laughter fills her at the sound of his own name on his lips as water plasters his golden-brown hair to his head and turns his linen shirt into a second skin.
How can he always be so attractive? Most people would look like drowned rats, but he just looks amazing. Does he have any idea how gorgeous he is?
“You’re staring at me,” he yells over the roar of the storm as he swipes wet hair out of his eyes and laughs. “Do I look ridiculous?”
Not ridiculous. Whistling wind.
“I’m unconvinced you could ever look ridiculous. You’re far too debonair. Is that the word?”
“It’s definitely a word.”
Is he blushing? He doesn’t need to blush around her.
“Did I use it right?”
He glances away and then groans. “Our wood!”
She swings her gaze to their building supplies. He’s right. The wood is soaked. At least the tools seem unaffected by the rain with the way the heartlanding stowed them under some propped-up boards.
“So much for building anything today,” he says. “I’m sorry. I was ready to try.”
She shrugs. “It’s all right. We have the rest of our lives to build this house.”
He catches her around the waist again. “That sounds like a metaphor.”
“A metaphor?”
He chuckles, but she can barely hear it over the rain. “It’s a figure of speech. Poetic in a way. We have the rest of our lives to build something spectacular, here with this house and in the real world. You and me. We’re better together than we are apart, El. And I think we’re going to build something beautiful with our lives.”
Rominy can be delightfully sentimental. And romantic.
“I love that,” she says. “What shall we do now in this spectacular future we’re creating together?”
He leans near her ear. “I think we should dance in the rain.”
Before she can respond, he sweeps her into the steps of a dance like the one he taught her at their binding ceremony, and she leans her head back and laughs. He quickly abandons the formal steps and holds her close as they sway between the trees and the plants surrounding them.
Then he whispers something she can’t hear, and the scene changes to their sandy beach again. He doesn’t stumble or slow or miss a step, and she follows his lead asher heart swells with love for him and everything their lives together might hold.
“I hope you enjoy dancing in the rain, love,” he whispers.
“I do. My mother once told me to dance in every rain shower. Life’s too precious to waste a moment being afraid of what the world will think of you when you do.”
He gazes at her with an intensity that steals her breath. “You live that with your whole heart, don’t you? Will you help me dance in the rain whenever my fears threaten to get the best of me?”
She smiles and rests her head against his solid chest as their tropical island sways around them. “Always, my love.”
Ebony and Emeralds
