He slanted his mouth over hers.
Having Olive in his arms made almost anything worth it. Even risking life and limb on the back of a horse called Mr. Edward.
Who kept pressing his nose into Eli’s side, likely in search of the carrot hidden there.
Olive lowered her lips from Eli’s. “Let me show you where I like to come and think.”
He tossed carrot offerings over his shoulder at Duke and Mr. Edward as he followed her to the pavilion.
Inside, a thick blanket was on the center of a wood floor. Dishes, a bottle of wine, and a small basket containing bread and cheese and fruit covered half of the blanket.
“It’s a picnic?” he said in surprise.
She gave him a shy smile. “If we wait until spring, you won’t be here. Is it good enough?”
“I adore it.” He adoredher.
Over the course of nuncheon and half a bottle of wine, he and Olive talked about everything except the past they’d left behind them and the future that would never be.
Lying side-by-side in the middle of the blanket, Olive explained the inner workings of a village of perennial Yuletide, described her many friends, and the challenges of managing a stud farm whilst being a woman.
Eli told her about all of the wonderful physic gardens of London, the marvels of botany, and its potential for healing as well as beauty.
A slow smile spread across her face.
He stopped talking aboutcarapichea ipecacuanha. “Too much Latin?”
“Not enough.” She rolled onto her side. “How do you say, ‘I am strangely attracted to a man who knows the most intimate details about plant fertilization?’”
Eli had no idea.
“Anthurium andraeanum, camellia chrysantha,” he replied with a straight face.
She narrowed her eyes. “Humph. Can you be trusted?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“As I suspected.” She tilted her head. “I may kiss you anyway.”
“I adore your kisses.” He touched her soft cheek. “And that’s the truth.”
“Shh.” She brushed her lips against his. “What’s Latin for, ‘Just kiss me?’”
They didn’t need words for that.
He drew her to him on the blanket and kissed her.
Having her snuggled up against him was almost too much for his senses.
Even before he opened his eyes in the morning, all he wanted was to taste her kiss. Whenever she was out of reach, he longed to hold her in his arms. Whenever she was out of sight, he yearned to see her face.
Here she was. Lying on top of him. Kissing him back.
He had known before heading north that the reality of having her in his arms again would far outstrip his wildest fantasy. That they were now lying on a wooden floor, out of doors, bundled in layers of wool and leather and yet more wool, only added to the dreamlike quality of the moment.
How he wished their fathers had remained friends rather than become enemies!
Eli would have courted Olive properly from the moment of her come-out... and likely sneaked his fair share of kisses a year or two before.
