She wriggled a little in his hold, embarrassed. “That’s because I l-like you but I know you hate me.”
His eyes widened. “Youlikeme?”
She shrugged, and nodded, and stared at an exceedingly fascinating piece of air over his shoulder. But Gabriel took her jaw between his fingers and gently guided it so that she was facing him again.
“I have never hated you, Ellie.”
To which massively life-changing information there was only one response: “Gosh.”
“Indeed,” he answered wryly. “Hence the panic.”
“But goodness, there’s no need for it,” Elodie told him. “We kissed rather comprehensively yesterday in the farmhouse.”
“Nervous overexcitement.”
“And under the tree,” she added.
“An accident.”
“And on our wedding day,” she said with just a little exasperation. “Indeed, we did a great deal more than kissing for those two days…”
“This is different.”
“I understand.” In fact, she understood nothing, but now was not the time for contemplation. “Would it help if I kissed you first?”
“Probably not. I just have to get it over with.”
She strove not to roll her eyes. “Heavens, what a romantic line. I shall have to record it in my diary.”
Gabriel frowned, seeming more confused than cross. “We’re dancing among magical stars as the sun rises over a quaint country village. Isn’t that romantic enough for you?”
“Considering that I’m starting to get goosebumps in unmentionable places,” Elodie answered dryly, “I’m going torequire a very thorough kiss to make things ‘romantic enough.’ ” Which wasn’t true; she thought her heart would never recover from the gorgeous romanticism of this morning (the risk of dying in quirksand notwithstanding).
Gabriel gave her one of his thrillingly intense looks. “I’m good at thorough,” he said—and proved it.
Chapter Seventeen
The sensible geographer always knows the safest path,
even if they don’t take it.
Blazing Trails, W.H. Jackson
Elodie closed hereyes as Gabriel gently pressed his lips against hers. Even so, light filled her, warm and rich and gleaming with pleasure. Their first kiss yesterday had been a storm of passion, their second a sweet accident. This, though, was more like the fulfillment of what the early days of their marriage had promised, tender and deep, with a divine slowness that suggested Gabriel intended to kiss her at his leisure for the rest of their lives.
Gravity settled beneath her heart. She leaned into Gabriel’s strength, and he held her there with an embrace that was so calm, so certain, they might have been standing safe inside a stone-walled room, not on a cracked road while lingering, glimmering magic encircled them and gold-soaked shadows swayed around their feet. The moment was transcendent. The kiss was like dark coffee, smooth and rich, with a sugary tingle as their tongues met. Elodie could have wept from the beauty of it.
Finally, they eased apart. A little dazedly, Elodie lookedaround, half expecting the morning to be burst open and brightly lit by love’s enchantment. But the sun had still barely risen above the trees. The village remained quiet. They might have been the only people in the world—which, Elodie reflected, was rather fortunate, since public smooching probably did not count as decent professional behavior.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel asked, looking at their feet to ensure they were indeed free from the quirksand and unharmed.
“I’m fine,” Elodie responded in correct English style. The French half of her, however, reached for him again, and he reached for her, and their lips met with such yearning it was as if it had been years since they last kissed.
“Mehheehhhh!”
Startled, they jerked around. The Queen Mab’s goat, Baby, had appeared in front of them as if from nowhere. He was glaring with the kind of malevolent complacency only a creature with dangerous horns and a fluffy pom-pom hat can manage, all the while chewing noisily on a mess of leaves and flowers.
“For fuck’s sake,” Gabriel muttered, his face blanching in reaction to the slurping noises. In turn, Baby ducked his head and glared as if to say,Mind your language, young man!
