“Ooh, wonderful landscapes there.”
“Hm.”
She thought the conversation had ended yet again. Gabriel laid down his napkin and took great pains to smooth it to perfection. But then he took a deep breath and said, “Do you have siblings?”
Although he appeared to be addressing the linen, Elodie felt the question barrel right through to her heart, which shook in panic. The conversation was actually going forward! She’d played with fire and now had to face the consequences! How should she answer? Lightly? Wryly? Oh God, what if she messed it up? Five seconds had passed since Gabriel had asked his question, and she really, really needed to make a response…
“It’s just me,” she said with a smile.
Gabriel looked up at her again. His face was shadow, then gold, then shadow again as light flashed and faded through the carriage window, but his expression remained dark and still, much like an inn’s cellar. Elodie swallowed heavily, unable to look away.
“It’s neverjustyou,” he said.
Elodie immediately and spontaneously combusted, albeit only in metaphor. In reality, she dared not move as warmth pooled at her core. In front of her, the teaspoon, set trembling by the train’s motion, was inching its way toward the edge of the table. Behind her, a half dozen passengers engaged in quiet conversation. And somewhere out there between Hereford and Oxford, a fey line was in terrifying cascade. But Elodie noticednone of it. In her imagination (amuchmore pleasant place to be), Gabriel was pulling her into one of the sleeper compartments and having his delightfully arrogant way with her.
And judging from the unrelenting depth of his gaze, he shared the same idea.
Just then the train began to slow, indicating that it would soon be arriving at Oxford Station. Elodie sagged internally at the thought of the return to normal life (providing, that is, magic didn’t explode the university into pieces). Gabriel went on gazing at her, however. He was unblinking, uncompromising, not setting her free. All the air in the carriage seemed to vanish. Elodie began to feel dizzy, her pulse thundering in her ears. She tried to look down, for relief, but Gabriel’s attention had always been her own personal gravity. She could not deny it. She could not even breathe. Would he lean across the table and kiss her? His eyes suggested it. They spoke of lips brushing, tongues stroking, and a foot sliding up beneath her skirt.
Alas, none of this occurred. But Gabriel’s gaze did intensify, and Elodie realized all of a sudden that his eyes truly were suggesting things. He was communicating with her, albeit wordlessly. His heart was in that fierce gaze—exposed, honest, and offered freely to her.I want you,it plainly said.I cannot stop thinking about you. I’ve had a little too much tea and am suffering the effects of this but nevertheless desire to kiss your throat and all the way down to your gorgeous bosom.
Well, perhaps that last part was hers, since she doubted Gabriel had ever used the word “bosom” in all his life; but even so, she was entranced. And abashed too, understanding now that lovingly accepting her husband’s taciturn nature wasn’t enough. There would be much thoughtful work ahead to learn the wealth of language in his silence. With her usual positivity,Elodie trusted that she would have a lifetime to devote herself to the task—especially considering the way Gabriel’s gaze was currently stroking the front of her shirtwaist, then pausing as if it could see right through the cambric. Such eloquence set her own language into twinkling disarray and she almost moaned, but was saved from this indignity by her teaspoon finally making a dive for the floor.
The clatter of its landing, and the gasp of a scandalized waiter, broke Elodie from Gabriel’s thrall. She bent with such speed to retrieve the spoon that all the blood rushed to her head—which at least provided an excellent excuse for why she was red-faced and dizzy. Straightening, she found Gabriel busy rolling up maps as if nothing interesting had occurred.
“Ready?” he asked, brisk and professional. But he glanced through his lashes at her, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. Not heat now, nor fierceness, but a soft and amiable warmth that wrapped around her, making her feel for the first time like she trulydidbelong to him, or more specificallywithhim—the two of them in a partnership that extended beyond their marriage to the many years they’d grown into adulthood together, even through the months they’d tried to stay apart.
“Ready,” she said, grinning, and tossed the teaspoon on the table with a zestfulclink.
Chapter Twenty-One
What goes up must come down,
just not necessarily in the same form.
Blazing Trails, W.H. Jackson
Immediately upon deboardingthe train in Oxford, Gabriel and Elodie turned to the northwest horizon. Travelers bustled around them as they stood together in tense silence, watching for magic.
The sky was blanched and cold, strewn with diaphanous cirrus clouds that drifted across a pale, swollen sun. White-gold light girdled the world, dissolving it gently into a dream.
My God,Gabriel thought in horror.This is it. I’ve started thinking in poetry. I should never have kissed her. Those dear lips have corrupted me so sweetly…
“Oh for goodness sake,” he grumbled. Perhaps he should just surrender his doctorate and write romances instead.
“What is it?” Elodie asked with some alarm. “I can’t see anything troubling.”
“There isn’t anything.” Pivoting on a heel, Gabriel scrutinized the various rooftops of the city. They, at least, were uninspiring. No one would want to write poetry about Oxford,especially not in October. “All seems normal. We’ve managed to outrace the cascade.”
“Maybe it petered out,” Elodie suggested, although she sounded dubious.
“I’m not willing to take that chance.” Consulting his wristwatch, he did some hasty mental calculations. “We have an hour at most. Are you confident in our plan?”
The question was a good excuse to look at her, but the moment he did, his mind proceeded to effuse about her starlight hair and the soft curve of her jaw. He flung his attention at a nearby tree instead. It trembled, despite the lack of breeze, as if his dark-eyed glare frightened it.
“I wouldn’t call myself confident,” Elodie said, “but I hope we…What are you looking at?” She glanced over her shoulder nervously.
“It’s coming,” Gabriel said in a low, grim voice. “The trees know.”
