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In the midst of turning, I halted. My eyes crashed into a pair of fiendish green orbs. From across the press of bodies, a tall figure reclined beneath one of the maples, those hooded eyes penetrating the distance.
The music faded, replaced by the thrum of my pulse. The crowd vanished, erasing the yards between us as we locked gazes.
I sensed how I must look, flushed and elated and desperate to reach him. I let that desire swell across my features, hiding nothing.
In a trance, I stepped from the crowd and approached. The jester materialized into view, from the messy layers of dark hair to those clover irises lined in kohl. Instead of leather pants and whatever expensive coat he’d usually have commissioned for an event, a floor-length graphite skirt fanned around his boots, and the matching jacket hugged his frame like a glove, emphasizing his toned muscles.
The jester’s pupils dipped up and down my shirt, breeches, and men’s hat. Recognizing the ensemble from his closet, as well as the painted jester diamonds skipping beneath my lower lashes, his sensuous lips slanted. Amusement dashed across his visage, along with a more sinful glint meant only for me.
Seasons, this devil.
Breaking from the tree, Poet sauntered my way. We met on the fringes, separate from the assembly. For a moment, we admired one another in silence, our mouths tipping in mutual appreciation.
Poet’s wardrobe would have drowned me. But just as I’d commissioned a replica from one of his outfits, the jester’s skirt and jacket were clones from my own wardrobe, since anything I owned would have been shredded if he’d tried them on.
A divot formed in Poet’s cheek. “Hi, beautiful.”
A blush crept up my neck. “Hello, handsome.”
He sidled forward, the skirt swishing. “Beguiling.”
I sidled nearer, the pants rustling against my thighs. “Provoking.”
But while the sight of him in my clothes threw titillating sparks across my flesh, something more unconditional and remarkable blossomed inside me.
How often we thought alike. How often we thought differently.
Despite wearing disguises, it had been effortless to pinpoint one another. In the dark, from a distance, and surrounded by a crowd, we’d never been able to hide from each other. Intrinsically I’d felt him here. Indeed, I would recognize him anywhere, in any guise.
My heart dripped from my mouth. “Have I ever told you why I love you?”
Poet had not been expecting that. The question struck him, those long eyelashes flapping, his jaw slackening at whatever he heard in my voice.
It came out of me like a confession, a benediction, and a vow. “Because with you, I’m foolish. Because with you, I’m fearless. Because you reunited me with the child I used to be. Because you’ve drawn from me the woman I can become. Because you’re the other half that was missing from me.”
My throat swelled. “Because of you, I want to stand for this world in ways I’d never expected. Because before you, I never thought I could. And I know you’ll claim to have done nothing, that I became this person on my own, and I love you for that as well. And I’ll never stop loving you. Because it’s always been like this. Because I cannot stay away, and I've never been able to stay away, and I never will be able to stay away.
“Because with you, I relish darkness as much as lightness. Because no one else does that to me. Because no one else … is you.”
I licked my lips, shivering when his attention tracked the movement. “But more than any of that, you have my heart for an unbreakable reason. Because now I care more about giving my love than receiving it. Because you gave me Nicu.”
Poet’s features had collapsed. Raw, explicit, and spellbound.
Perhaps I had expressed too much, too publicly. Perhaps I should not have taken leave of myself.
Perhaps none of this. Because what stared back at me wasn’t restraint. It was all the things I felt. From wonder, to terror, to rapture.
Riveted, the jester said nothing. He remained uncharacteristically quiet, as if I had stripped him of the ability to speak. He merely kept staring until I shuffled in place.
Unable to abide it any longer, I squared my shoulders and affected a regal posture. Moving past him, I said, “We should continue scouting the market.”
His fingers shot out, snatching my wrist and jolting me in place. A current of heat sizzled up my arm. Twisting my head toward him, I found the jester staring at his grip on me. But as the music eased into a slow theme, he aimed those molten eyes on mine and extended his hand, palm upturned.
I felt his request rather than heard it.Dance with me.
As we had once before in Spring. And because we hadn’t yet done so in Autumn.
My hand floated like a feather and landed in his. Without looking away, we stepped into the pasture and turned to face one another.
