Chapter 15
Luna did not think she would ever fully accustom herself to the sight of Mr. Grimm’s face broken into an expression of pure laughter.
She’d seen him laugh before, of course. A low chuckle, a smile half-hidden behind his hand.
Even the occasional outbreak of real, unexpected, and undisguised mirth.
But never like this. Never with his mouth wide open and his eyes so bright, and a little dash of terror underscoring the hilarity of it all.
It was so beautiful, so adorable, so unbearably . . .
“Sexy,” she whispered.
Then hastily ducked her face down into the water, letting the shocked gasp escape in a series of bubbles. Had she really just said that? Kind-of-sort-of out loud?
Mr. Grimm reached the bottom of the waterslide and tumbled out into the water.
It was not terribly deep here, despite her initial concerns.
He soon found his footing and surged up out of the pool, choking, then laughing, his face brilliantly lit-up as though from the inside.
It made her ache to see it. She felt as though she was catching a glimpse of the man he should have been.
The man he would have been, had the circumstances of his life taken another shape.
If it weren’t for the father who never loved him.
The brother who despised him. The mother who perished when he was born.
Not to mention Janet and the terrible hole left behind in his heart from her loss.
But here and now, all those hurts were momentarily swept away, and before her was the Nigel Grimm the gods themselves had created. Unmarred, unwarped by pain and sin. Perfect.
He spun in the water, churning foam with his arms, searching for her.
She crouched, hiding both her exposed body and half her face in the water, but he spotted her and pointed an accusing finger.
“You, Miss Talbot,” he cried, his voice loud enough to be heard over the waterfall’s roaring, “are a blithering lunatic!”
Luna popped out of the water and shot a fountain stream between her teeth. It hit him in the nose, and he jerked backwards and sank up to his chest once more. “I prefer feral chaos fairy, thank you very much, Mr. Grimm,” she said and moved into a float on her back. “Want to go again?”
“Not in a thousand lifetimes!”
She grinned. “But you will anyway, won’t you?”
He did. They both went down that waterslide three more times each.
And Mr. Grimm laughed each time he emerged from the water, and Luna melted each time she saw it.
It didn’t hurt that his clothing clung to his lithe body in a way that was almost more revealing than if he was truly undressed.
Several times she had to bite back the suggestion that he remove his trousers, which did seem rather heavy as he waded to and from the pool’s edge.
Somehow, she didn’t think there was a way to make that suggestion that wasn’t innately inappropriate.
So she bit her tongue and went to ride the slide one last time.
She couldn’t help noticing during this climb to the top that the air wasn’t as sweltering as it had been.
Perhaps Garden was beginning to level out.
Her brow puckered at that thought, even as she took her seat at the top of the waterfall.
Once Garden regulated, and the door unlocked, there would be no excuse for the two of them to remain out here.
Mr. Grimm would hasten back inside and up to his shower, where he would freshen up for his date tonight. With Bryony.
Setting her jaw, Luna pushed off and let the rush and roar of the water outrun the sick, twisting jealousy in her gut.
It worked—for the entire length of the ride.
But by the time she splashed into the pool, by the time she righted herself and turned to watch Mr. Grimm’s descent, it was back again. A tight, uncomfortable knot.
She shivered suddenly and rubbed her arms. Her skin was beginning to prickle, and the wind that blew down into the pool was nippy.
Mr. Grimm splashed down, pulled himself upright, his face once more unrecognizable with laughter. He turned her way, noticing how she stood with her arms wrapped around herself, and his expression immediately melted into one of concern. “Are you all right, Miss Talbot?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered at once. Then added, “Is it just me, or is it getting a bit chilly?”
As though her words brought his attention to the fact, Mr. Grimm shivered and looked up at the clear sky overhead.
“The temperature does seem to be dropping.” He glanced her way again, then bounced his gaze quickly, seeking the shore where they’d left their clothing.
“We’d best get out. And you should dress. ”
Luna waded with him, avoiding the deepest part of the pool, and clambered up onto the stone ledge. Her teeth were chattering by then, and her limbs were beginning to shake.
“You’d better take off that wet slip,” Mr. Grimm said, even as he hauled himself out behind her. He did not meet her swiftly-cast glance. “It won’t do you any good, soaking through your blouse and skirt from underneath.”
Luna nodded. “What about you?” she asked. She’d not considered this eventuality when she pulled him into the pool fully clothed. His only dry articles were his jacket, his waistcoat, and his socks, which, no matter how you configured them, weren’t going to do him a whole lot of good on their own.
“Let’s just hurry back to the door, shall we?” he said, shaking out his sodden trousers. Turning his back to her, he slipped his suspenders off his shoulders, crossed his arms, and peeled his wet undershirt off, and Luna found herself unexpectedly staring at his bare back.
His very pleasing, very toned, bare back.
She swallowed hard.
Who knew that backs were something that could be so nice?
Realizing Mr. Grimm was affording her privacy which she was not reciprocating, Luna spun hastily on heel and shrugged out of her own slip.
Leaving it in a heap on the ground, she swiped water from her skin and considered removing her brassiere and panties as well.
But that was a level of immodesty she couldn’t quite justify, no matter how cold the wind blew.
She pulled on her skirt, shrugged into her blouse, and hastily did up the front buttons with trembling fingers.
“Are you clothed, Miss Talbot?” Mr. Grimm asked, standing with his back to her, rocking on his feet. He’d donned his dry suit jacket, though she suspected those wet trousers of his were freezing by now.
“I am,” she answered. “Let me just pop on my shoes.” She didn’t bother to garter her stockings, merely pulled them up as far as she could and stepped into her boots.
By the time she was finished, she could see actual ice forming on the edge of the nearest pool.
Now proper fear began to set in. Her wet hair felt like it was turning into a series of icicles.
“Let’s go,” Mr. Grimm said sternly.
They set off trudging across Garden’s landscape once more, mimicking each other’s attitude of arms-wrapped shivering.
Luna could see the air before her lips forming vapors, and she began to regret giving into that foolish impulse to swim.
“Is this normal regulation?” she asked through chattering teeth.
“Is this what you expect Garden to do after a heat wave?”
“No.” Mr. Grimm’s voice was dark, serious. He cast about, looking at the flower beds. The heat-wilted blossoms were all bent now under the weight of frost. Overhead, clouds crowded in the sky, threatening mounds of darkness. “No, this is not normal.”
“Do you think the door will be open?”
“We can only hope, Miss Talbot.”
But it proved to be a forlorn hope. When they reached the door at last, after what felt like a million-mile hike, it was just as they had left it.
No latch. No lock. Just bare slats, blocking their entrance.
Luna’s heart sank. Her teeth chattered extra loud.
Mr. Grimm, standing in front of the door, ran a hand through his hair, which seemed to be hardening with ice.
Then, turning his head sharply, he frowned at her.
Before she realized what he intended to do, he shrugged out of his jacket. Leaving his own bare torso completely exposed to the swiftly dropping temperatures, he slung it over her shoulders.
“Oh, Mr. Grimm!” Luna gasped. For a moment she couldn’t say more.
Because the sight of his bare chest shocked her—not just the gratuitous display of flesh, for which she was completely unprepared.
But also that black, seven-pointed star, tattooed over his heart.
The heptagram; the sorcerer’s mark. Because of where it was placed, it was too easy sometimes to forget about it entirely.
Seeing it now, so stark against his pale skin, chilled her blood even more than the sudden blast of wintry wind.
She backed away a step. “No!” she protested, beginning to peel off the jacket. “You need this more than I do.”
“Nonsense,” he answered sharply and turned away from her, studying the door again. “I don’t feel the cold. It’s a sorcerer thing.”
That was a lie. She knew it. She’d seen him react to the elements the same as any other man. Luna narrowed her eyes, studying the side of his face. See? she thought in the privacy of her own mind. You are a blooming nurturer, aren’t you? You just can’t seem to help yourself!
But that wasn’t pertinent right now. Nor was the wiry musculature of his arms, nor the definition of his chest, nor that incredible slope from shoulder to waist . . . nope. None of that was pertinent. Absolutely not.
Mr. Grimm pounded on the door, calling out, “Debbie?”
The raven’s voice croaked on the far side: “Never mind?”
“Any sign of Mrs. Goddard?”
“Never mind!”
He cursed and ran a hand down his face, pulling at the skin under his eyes.
A few flakes of snow drifted down before Luna’s vision. “Something is wrong with Garden,” she said, shivering inside his jacket. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Yes, something is definitely wrong. But what?” He turned sharply then, looking at her. “Your lips are turning blue.”
“Are they?” she chattered.
Mr. Grimm shook his head, blowing out a huff of frosty air. “Miss Talbot, you’ve got to release my magic.”
“What?”
“If the temperature continues to drop,” he said, “it’s going to get dangerous. You need to unleash my magic while I still have the capacity to help us.”
Luna set her teeth. She really did not want him to use sorcery. Never again. “Mr. Grimm—” she began.
But he cut her off. “We can keep arguing until we both freeze to death, or you can release me. Let me do what I must to save you.”
Luna bit down on her lips. She knew he was right. But that didn’t make the admission any easier. “All right,” she said at last, her jaw stiff. “What do I need to do?”
“Simply give me permission to save you by whatever means necessary.”
This seemed a bit too broad for comfort. “I give you permission to save me,” Luna said, choosing her words with care, “by whatever means are within reason.”
He gave her a look. Then, with a sigh: “Close enough.”
In two quick strides, he closed the distance between them.
Luna had just time enough to catch a frozen breath before his arms wrapped around her and pulled her against his chest. His bare chest. Her heart performed a wild backflip, lost its balance, and tumbled straight to her gut.
Her bare palm was pressed into that heptagram tattoo, and her mouth and chin bumped against his shoulder.
“Mr. Grimm!” she squeaked, her voice muffled. “What are you doing?”
“Quiet,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. His breath was cold, but sent a streak of heat straight through her brain nonetheless. “Let me concentrate.”
Luna held perfectly still. She was hardly aware of anything except the profound strangeness of this moment.
Mr. Grimm had held her in his arms before, of course.
On Green Yule morning, when she woke from her battle with pneumonia.
In Lord Bruxley’s undercroft, when she struggled to breathe with panic.
And on that painfully beautiful night behind the counter, when they lay together on a stack of quilts, and she’d nestled against his shoulder and studied his face by the stove light and worked up the nerve to press her lips to his jaw.
But in all those instances, he had been fully clothed.
Now she found not even a stitch of fabric separating her palms from his bare flesh, from the hardness of his muscle, from the excruciating awareness of his masculinity.
An energy built up between them. At first, she could not distinguish it from the charged energy of her own attraction .
. . but no. This was something else. Something outside.
A transference from one realm to another.
Mr. Grimm, she realized, was summoning power from beyond the Veil.
Dark motes of anti-glitter surrounded them in a cloud.
Luna shivered. She hated it. Hated this weirdly sparking power, which haunted her every nightmare.
Sometimes, even all these years later, she could still smell the stink of anti-glitter in her nostrils, just as she had that night when she was seven years old, crouched in a bolt hole under the living room floor.
Closing her eyes, she tucked in a little closer to Mr. Grimm. Warmth surrounded her. Not merely the warmth of his arms, but also a coating on her skin. A layer of anti-glitter, protection against the cold. It was surprisingly effective, actually. And comfortable.
Finally, Mr. Grimm released a long-held breath and stepped back.
Luna resisted the urge to cling to him. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself instead and peered up into his eyes.
They were onyx shards. With a shudder, she turned away and looked down at herself.
At the shimmering layer of anti-glitter, coating her body from head to toe.
“That should do it,” Mr. Grimm said. He too wore an anti-glitter coat, though it didn’t offer anything by way of modesty.
Luna hastily shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to him.
This time, he did not resist. “Now,” he said, sliding his arms into the garment, “we’ve got to figure out what’s wrong with Garden. And fix it. Fast.”
Luna nodded, casting around the landscape. Snow was beginning to fall harder now, covering the lawn in a thin layer of white. “Where do we start?”
Mr. Grimm’s brow was stern and tight. He looked older once more, all the youthful freshness she’d glimpsed down at the pool banished behind the pulsating glow of sorcery. “I believe I must venture to the Heart of Garden.”