Chapter 3
Chapter Three
James almost groaned aloud as Kitty lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked an errant drip of honey from her thumb.
The innocent move set off a wave of erotic images in his mind; he saw himself pouring the golden syrup onto her beautiful, naked skin .
. . and licking it off. Her tongue on him, teasing, tasting.
If he kissed her now, she’d taste of honey—
He actually swayed toward her before he realized what he was doing and jerked himself back.
Clearly, a combination of the summer heat and months of enforced celibacy had made him depraved. He was wound tighter than a spring. And while he regularly relieved himself with his own hand, it was no real substitute for a warm, willing woman in his arms.
A woman like Kitty.
Her words echoed in his brain. A small price to pay for sweetness.
She was sweetness. What price was he willing to pay?
He wanted her in his arms. In his bed. But she deserved more than a single night of passion, or a brief affaire. She deserved a whole lifetime of love.
Marriage. Was he ready to offer her that?
James shook his head. Before he’d been injured, he’d thought himself invincible. Assumed he had ample time to settle down and start a family. Spain had proved him wrong. Life was precious, and sometimes cruelly short. Nothing was guaranteed. Happiness—sweetness—should be grasped with both hands.
But he had no idea what Kitty felt about him now. Did she blame him for not taking care of Andrew? God knew, he blamed himself. He’d replayed those fateful moments over and over in his mind a thousand times, analyzing the precise series of events, wishing he’d done something—anything—differently.
She’d imagined herself in love with him at seventeen, of course. But she’d been so young, so inexperienced. He’d wanted her to see something of the world, to be certain her affections were real, before he declared himself. And so he’d kept his distance, even though it had been torture.
And now it might be too late. Andrew’s death hung between them like an invisible shadow, and while she was obviously talking to him now, she might just be being polite.
“Funny how honey seems to have become associated with weddings,” she said, utterly unaware of the gloomy direction of his thoughts.
James cleared his throat. “In what way?”
“Well, the phrase honeymoon, for example, to describe the first month of marriage. I suppose because it’s meant to be the sweetest.”
“That’s rather cynical, when you think about it,” he countered. “To assume the affection of the newly married couple will wane, like the phases of the moon.”
“Well, yes, I suppose it is.” Her wistful smile did something funny to his chest. “One would hope the feelings of the bride and groom would last rather longer than a month.”
He could practically see her thoughts, shimmering around her head; Their love should last a lifetime.
She turned abruptly and looked out toward the sea. “Andrew always loved the coast. He’d be dragging us off to look for smuggled contraband, or to dig for fossils in the rocks, if he was here.”
James stepped up beside her, not touching, but close enough that he could smell the delicate floral perfume she wore that always made him a little lightheaded.
God, he’d missed her.
He held his breath, waiting for her to blame him for not bringing her brother back safely, but all she said was, “I miss him.”
A knot of emotion clogged his throat. “So do I,” he managed. “Kitty, I’m so sorry—”
She cut him off with a little shake of her head. “I know. It wasn’t your fault.”
The sincerity in her tone made James’s knees weak with relief. He felt almost buoyant, as if a great burden of guilt had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d needed to hear her say that, needed to believe it himself.
“His last words were of you, you know,” he said quietly.
She turned and raised her brows in question.
“He told me to tell you that he loved you.”
Pain clouded her eyes and he cursed the fact that he was responsible, but he’d sworn to relay the message.
Her brow furrowed a little. “Well, of course he loved me. I’ve always known that.”
“It bears repeating.”
A smile quivered on her lips. “He really was an excellent brother, you know. Even when the two of you were teasing me, there was no malice in it. And I knew that if I was ever in any real trouble, you’d drop everything and come to my rescue.”
James returned her smile.
“You remember that time I fell asleep in the little row boat, and you pushed me out into the middle of the lake without any oars?”
He nodded. Her eyes were still bright, but he was relieved to see a hint of amusement had replaced the sadness.
“How were we to know you’d take it upon yourself to swim back to shore?”
“I would have managed it, too, if my stupid skirts hadn’t weighed me down.” She sent him a sideways look that made his heart thud heavy in his chest. “I’m very glad you dived in and rescued me.”
He pretended to scowl. “I ruined a perfectly good pair of boots, that day. My father gave me a sound thrashing when he found out.”
He glanced at her again. Her cheeks were pink, thanks to the sea breeze, and it took a monumental effort not to pull her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It was worth it.”
Her lips parted, and he thought she would say more, but instead she turned away and picked up the basket. “We should get back to the house.”
She started toward the woods, and with a sigh, he followed.
“Spying again, my love?”
Titania, the russet-haired queen of the fairies, turned from her perch in the branches of a giant oak tree and whacked her handsome husband playfully on the arm.
“Oberon, you beast! Must you always sneak up on me?”
Her partner put his arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her neck. “Yes, my sweet, I must. It keeps you on your toes. What mischief are you up to now?”
“Shhh! I’m watching the mortals.”
With a wave, she indicated the human couple walking through the woods below them. A trail of tiny petals appeared in the wake of her hand and fluttered to the ground like confetti.
“Humans are always so entertaining. Look at this girl. I like her. She reminds me of one of my handmaidens.”
Another wave, to indicate James, caused a patch of moss to sprout beside the path. “And the male—he’s very handsome.”
Oberon gave a growl and tightened his arms. Titania giggled in delight.
“For a human, of course,” she added teasingly. “He’s nothing compared to you, my love.”
She accepted a kiss as a reward, then leaned forward again to continue her observation.
“So, what’s so fascinating about these two?” Oberon grumbled.
“They’re like a pair of prickly hedgehogs. Their words say one thing, but their bodies whisper the opposite. They push each other away, but their souls yearn to be close.”
Oberon snorted. “Mortals are such fools. They think they have all the time in the world, when their lives pass in the blink of an eye. They let happiness slip through their fingers time and time again.”
“Which is why I want to help them. See how he watches her. And she does the same thing, when he’s not looking. It’s delicious!”
With a deft leap Titania sprung to the next tree to keep the human couple in her sights. Oberon followed.
“She’s exactly what he needs, whether he knows it or not,” Titania whispered. “Can’t you feel the hunger in him? Such longing, such yearning. Poor man, he’s known so much pain and loss.”
“He has,” Oberon agreed, with a frown. “The memories still cling to him. Which would explain why he’s wary of caring too deeply. Why let someone close to him, and risk losing them?”
Titania tilted her head. “But living with only half a heart is living only half a life. He’s brave, and lost and lonely. He needs her light to chase away his darkness. And she needs his passion to heal.”
Oberon sent her a stern, exasperated glance. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, my love. What have I told you about matchmaking? Especially with mortals. Nothing ever goes as expected when you meddle in their affairs.”
“Oh, hush! I’m an excellent matchmaker. And besides, it takes no magical ability to see that they’re made for each other.”
“What are you going to do?”
Titania twisted a strand of hair around her finger and pursed her lips. “Maybe Puck could conjure me a love potion?” Her eyes sparkled in anticipation.
Oberon shook his head. “Not a chance. They never work the way you plan. Remember when the blacksmith in Bocka Morrow fell for the hedge-witch?”
“Pfft,” Titania waved her hand dismissively. “A slight miscalculation.”
“And what about the sailor and the mermaid? That ended in disaster, didn’t it?”
The queen of the fairies crossed her arms with a pout. “Oh, all right. Fine. No love potions. I’ll leave them alone—for now. But just you watch—I guarantee they’ll make a mess of it, when left to their own devices.”