have to answer to me!”
Bertie said nothing, but when she offered Nate another bite of cake, she let her fingers linger about his mouth, encouraging the second kiss in as many minutes. With her mask left behind as payment to Serefina, she couldn’t hide her sudden longing to inhale the scents of soap and ocean on his clothes, to feel the heat radiating from his chest. The third piece of cake she fed him came with a tiny grazing of his teeth across her finger, and she was a sailor’s knot nearly undone.
He must have seen it written upon her face, for something flickered over his own features: a promise, perhaps, mixed with determination and some flavor of triumph. Mumbling something about a pressing thirst, Bertie scrambled to her feet, grasped a lantern, and fled. A narrow stretch of grass and a tiny copse of trees separated the campfire and the river, which burbled a pleasant welcome to her. Rinsing the worst of the frosting off, she left her hands in the cold current until her fingers began to go numb. Even then, the places where Nate had kissed her burned like a firebrand.
“Are ye all right?” Of course he’d followed.
Still kneeling, Bertie didn’t turn as she splashed the bracing water on her face. “Just needed a bit of a rinse. The chocolate—”
“It’s not th’ chocolate troublin’ ye.” Nate stepped toward her, brow knit, and pulled her to her feet. Tiny fireflies gathered about them, glowing with soft pink light and emitting an oddly happy humming noise.
“Just what we need, to be eaten alive by mosquitoes.” Bertie swatted at them, but the winged things looped about her shoulders, tracing rosy hearts upon her skin. Mortified, she squeezed her eyes shut and wished either for bug repellent or for a hole to open up and swallow her.
When neither manifested, Nate tilted his head to one side. “Yer silence is like calm water before a squall.”
“Complaints, complaints. You said someday you’d have silence from me.” It had been the same day they’d reenacted the tango, the same day he’d been kidnapped.
“Well then, mayhap it’s time t’ collect on th’ quiet.”
Though Bertie was expecting the kiss, she wasn’t expecting the rest of the world to fall away from her. As her eyes closed again, the silence he wanted spread through her until the river, the caravan, and the rest of the troupe faded into a darkness deeper than a blackout, leaving only the two of them. With nothing and no one to stop them this time, Bertie wrapped herself about him.
Chocolate cake be damned—I want him for dessert.
Shoving her fingers through Nate’s hair, Bertie snapped the leather string holding back his plait. Flickering broken-glass bits of lantern light caressed his jaw, licked over the stubble on his chin, which Bertie realized belatedly accounted for the stinging around her own mouth. When she kissed him again, Nate’s hands gripped the back of her sweater, almost as though he’d like to tear it from her, but the next second he made an incoherent noise into her mouth. Bertie felt his balance shift wildly, then he staggered, and they both fell.
They landed in the river before Bertie could so much as squeak out a protest. It was deeper than it looked, and significantly colder than the shore eddies she’d used to wash her hands. With the frigid water working its way into her underwear, it was easy enough to picture ice-fed streams funneling down from snowcapped mountainsides.
Up to his armpits, Nate shoved the dripping strands of hair from his face. “A rock turned under my foot, curse it t’ th’ seventh ring o’ hell.”
Gasping, Bertie flopped over like a fish and headed for the shore. “I would have thought you’d have better balance, being a mariner.”
“Forgive me, it’s been some time since I kissed a lass aboard a storm-rocked ship.”
“How long, exactly?” Her teeth had started to chatter, but even the castanet clatter couldn’t disguise the snort of laughter that
Bertie said nothing, but when she offered Nate another bite of cake, she let her fingers linger about his mouth, encouraging the second kiss in as many minutes. With her mask left behind as payment to Serefina, she couldn’t hide her sudden longing to inhale the scents of soap and ocean on his clothes, to feel the heat radiating from his chest. The third piece of cake she fed him came with a tiny grazing of his teeth across her finger, and she was a sailor’s knot nearly undone.
He must have seen it written upon her face, for something flickered over his own features: a promise, perhaps, mixed with determination and some flavor of triumph. Mumbling something about a pressing thirst, Bertie scrambled to her feet, grasped a lantern, and fled. A narrow stretch of grass and a tiny copse of trees separated the campfire and the river, which burbled a pleasant welcome to her. Rinsing the worst of the frosting off, she left her hands in the cold current until her fingers began to go numb. Even then, the places where Nate had kissed her burned like a firebrand.
“Are ye all right?” Of course he’d followed.
Still kneeling, Bertie didn’t turn as she splashed the bracing water on her face. “Just needed a bit of a rinse. The chocolate—”
“It’s not th’ chocolate troublin’ ye.” Nate stepped toward her, brow knit, and pulled her to her feet. Tiny fireflies gathered about them, glowing with soft pink light and emitting an oddly happy humming noise.
“Just what we need, to be eaten alive by mosquitoes.” Bertie swatted at them, but the winged things looped about her shoulders, tracing rosy hearts upon her skin. Mortified, she squeezed her eyes shut and wished either for bug repellent or for a hole to open up and swallow her.
When neither manifested, Nate tilted his head to one side. “Yer silence is like calm water before a squall.”
“Complaints, complaints. You said someday you’d have silence from me.” It had been the same day they’d reenacted the tango, the same day he’d been kidnapped.
“Well then, mayhap it’s time t’ collect on th’ quiet.”
Though Bertie was expecting the kiss, she wasn’t expecting the rest of the world to fall away from her. As her eyes closed again, the silence he wanted spread through her until the river, the caravan, and the rest of the troupe faded into a darkness deeper than a blackout, leaving only the two of them. With nothing and no one to stop them this time, Bertie wrapped herself about him.
Chocolate cake be damned—I want him for dessert.
Shoving her fingers through Nate’s hair, Bertie snapped the leather string holding back his plait. Flickering broken-glass bits of lantern light caressed his jaw, licked over the stubble on his chin, which Bertie realized belatedly accounted for the stinging around her own mouth. When she kissed him again, Nate’s hands gripped the back of her sweater, almost as though he’d like to tear it from her, but the next second he made an incoherent noise into her mouth. Bertie felt his balance shift wildly, then he staggered, and they both fell.
They landed in the river before Bertie could so much as squeak out a protest. It was deeper than it looked, and significantly colder than the shore eddies she’d used to wash her hands. With the frigid water working its way into her underwear, it was easy enough to picture ice-fed streams funneling down from snowcapped mountainsides.
Up to his armpits, Nate shoved the dripping strands of hair from his face. “A rock turned under my foot, curse it t’ th’ seventh ring o’ hell.”
Gasping, Bertie flopped over like a fish and headed for the shore. “I would have thought you’d have better balance, being a mariner.”
“Forgive me, it’s been some time since I kissed a lass aboard a storm-rocked ship.”
“How long, exactly?” Her teeth had started to chatter, but even the castanet clatter couldn’t disguise the snort of laughter that
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