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“According to the countess, you delighted your friends by teasing them about the location of this cellar. Only Hugh knew your secret. That’s why he was found drinking in the bathtub after you died. He went to the cellar and got wine to drown his sorrows. He trulywasyour friend. He may have stolen your poem, but he punished himself for the theft for the rest of his life. Hedidwant to honour you. He thought you deserved to take this secret with you into death, like an Egyptian Pharaoh, so he built your mausoleum over the entrance.”
“All this time…” Edward breathes. “I thought they didn’t care for me. I thought they only used me for my wealth and notoriety.”
“I can’t speak for all of them, of course. But Hugh and the countess, their love for you was genuine. You’re quite a remarkable person, Edward. I cannot imagine spending any time with you and not succumbing to your charm. I mean, justlookat this place.”
“What is this except for a useless prince’s folly?” Edward says sourly.
“Why did you collect all these bottles and put them together down here?” I ask. “It wasn’t because you particularly like wine. You chose these for your friends. You chose them because you wanted to share them with people. You know the true pleasure of life is to spend it with people who understand you, who challenge you, who light you up.”
I pull out a bottle and study the label. It’s handwritten in French, but the date is unmistakable: 1623.
“An excellent year,” Edward nods sagely.
My heart stutters over a thought that hasn’t crossed my mind before. I’d been so excited about what this room might mean that I hadn’t even considered its contents. “Edward, these bottles must be worth a fortune now.”
“They were worth a fortune, then,” he says haughtily. “I may have been a rake and a wastrel, but you cannot accuse me of being cheap.”
“No, you don’t understand. There’s expensive wine, and then there’s wine that’s five hundred years old. This…this ismillions of dollarsright here in this room.” I roll my eyes at him. “Trust you to be a rich bastard in the afterlife, too. You could do all kinds of things with this money.”
But when I look over at him, Edward isn’t listening. Which is odd, because Edward is always interested in wine. Instead, he’s frowning at his chest.
“Brianna. I feel…strange.”
“Not strange,” I say as I grip his cord in my hands, pulling him closer. “You feelalive.”
The cord shimmers in my fingers, growing warm against my skin as a bright white light surrounds both of us. I’m familiar enough with the sensation now from bringing back Ambrose and Pax that I don’t shy away from it, but I hold my grip and wind that cord between my hands.
“Brianna…” Edward’s voice croaks.
I lean in.
I kiss him.
He tastes like wine. Wine and debauchery.
He tastessolid, his tongue firm and determined as he seeks the warmth of my mouth. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, tangling in my hair as he tugs me closer, giving his whole body and his broken, princely heart over to the kiss.
It’s the first time Edward has properly kissed someone since he’s last been alive, but golly, he’s stilldamngood at it. He’s so good that I forget to breathe, and end up gasping against him, clinging to him as his lips and tongue heat my body in this cold, damp, airless cellar.
Eventually, Edward pulls back, his dark eyes shimmering. “You brought me back.”
I grin. “It figures that your unfinished business would be locating your secret wine cellar. What’s the first thing you want to do now that you’re a Living human again?”
Edward grabs a bottle from the stack. “I want to celebrate.”
“You can’t open that. It’s probably worth thousands of pounds. You could buy a thousand bottles of Dom Perignon if we want to celebrate.”
“Look around, my Brianna.” Edward gestures to the vast tunnel. “We have enough wine here for a lifetime. Fortwolifetimes. Actually, maybe only one. I doquiteenjoy wine. Although not as much as I enjoy you.”
He leans forward and captures my lips in his. And I forget about the dusty tunnel and the stale air. All that matters is him.
Edward breaks the kiss to peel off the wax seal on the bottle. He does this expertly, as if it was only yesterday when he last opened a bottle of fancy old plonk. I guess some things are muscle memory. I’m amazed that the cork slides out easily. Edward holds the bottle up to his nose and sniffs.
“It smells like you, Brianna. It smells of pear, and almonds, and sweet, beautifullife.And look at this colour – it reminds me of your hair. It’s as if, when I chose this bottle, I knew I was waiting for you.”
He holds the bottle out to me.
“Ladies first.”
