“I hope you like Boxing Day sandies,” I say as I unwrap the plate of sandwiches. “Or day after Boxing Day, as the case may be.”
Aurelia picks one up and lifts the bread to study the contents before shrugging. “Looks like what I used to make with Thanksgiving leftovers.”
“Exactly.” I beam as she takes a bite and groans.
“Oh, my. I haven’t had this in years.”
I tear into my own sandwich in hopes of distracting myself from the pure pleasure on her face, but she’s not exaggerating. Something about the two-day-old stuffing hits different.
I lean to one side, propping myself up on one arm as close to Aurelia’s leg as I dare lest I start on the rest of the day’s plans a little early. My eyes seldom leave hers as we eat our lunch and sip a bottled stout from a small brewery in Ardsbend.
A fat piece of chicken drops from her sandwichonto the gingham, and without hesitating, Aurelia picks it up and pops it into her mouth. I try to keep my expression under control, but I can barely breathe as I watch her suck the bit of currant jam off her thumb.
“Oh god! That was so rude. I’m so sorry.” Her face turns that adorable shade of pink.
I laugh and cup her cheek in one hand. “No, it was decidedly not rude.” My thumb traces the seal of her lips. She holds my heated gaze for a long moment before the color rushes back to her cheeks. I drop my hand while I can still think rationally. I’ve been fighting the urge to devour her all day, and a drafty stone hut is hardly the spot for me to lose control.
“So, tell me, Miss Aurelia, what brings a beautiful young American to Emarvia?”
She takes her time selecting a brownie, opting for a middle piece with no crispy edges. Her expression is vaguely orgasmic as she takes a bite, and certain parts of me take notice.Snap out of it.
Finally, she shrugs. “I guess I was looking for a change. My mom and dad met here when she was studying abroad. We moved back to the States when I was little.”
Her face is pensive, and I can see by the way her mouth is set that she’s holding something back. There’s sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there moments ago, and I’m kicking myself for even bringing it up.
“That’s a long way to go to seek out a change.”
She bobs one shoulder again. “My aunt offered for me to stay with her and helped make the move a bit easier. It’s not so much of a transition if there’s someone on the other end waiting for you.”
A strong wind whips into the little hut, and our attention is snatched away as we try to keep our lunch rubbish from blowing away. I stand and peek through the doorway. It’s been grey and overcast all day, not unusual for the time of year, but some darker clouds are rolling in. She comes to stand behind me, and I’m once again wrapped in the heady scent of Aurelia, though now mixed with a touch of horse and woodsmoke. And somehow that makes her even more intoxicating.
“Is this thing water-tight?
Her cheek rests against my back as her arms go around my waist. Christ, to just feel her close to me, her body pressed against mine, the softness of her breasts on my back, the warmth of her embrace. It goes beyond wanting to kiss her senseless. I want to feel her like this all the time.
I mentally shake myself, remembering the question and the potential change in weather. I study the lichen-crusted stone all around us. “Probably was once, but I’d say unlikely now.”
I feel her sigh against me, like she’s maybe enjoying this moment as much as I am and doesn’t want to leave either. “Should we be heading back, then?”
“Probably should.”
My whole being deflates as she dropsher arms and moves away. Aurelia goes to the basket and takes a biscuit before helping me get our meal packed away again. I fold the blanket and leave it on top. Someone will be out to collect it later, after the rain, I’m sure.
The horses are anxious, too, and they twitch and nicker as we untie them and mount up again. I set a pace a bit faster on the way back to the estate as thunder rolls in the distance.
“Thank you for bringing me out here,” she says after we ride in silence for a bit. “This whole place is so enchanting.”
“This was one of my favorite places as a boy. Mother would insist we all visit as a family at least twice a year. More if she could drag Father away.” My gaze drifts up again as memories flood my mind—sitting on the veranda listening to Father play his acoustic guitar, Claus cheating at croquet on the back lawn, Liesel and Lorelei putting on plays and pageants in the observatory. “There’s something restorative about being in the woods, no city noise, just the smell of clean soil and grass, the rustle of trees in the wind, birdsong from every tree.”
“Refreshing to the soul and body.”
My focus snaps back to her. “Exactly.”
There is another rumble, nearer now, and small scattered drops begin to patter on the dead leaves. A broad grin spreads across my face.
“How out of practice would you say you are with riding?” I ask.
“Very. I’m surprised I’ve stayed up this long,” she giggles.
