Chapter 19 #2
He pointed over her shoulder. Luna turned to see the wall behind her absolutely full of black-and-white images of couples seated around the café. Most of them boasted expressions of surprise and mild shock. Luna pursed her lips.
“I figured you might prefer not to have your face commemorated in a public place like this,” Mr. Grimm said.
He was right; she definitely would prefer not to.
She couldn’t afford to have any visual record of her presence here in Ballycastle.
Not that she expected someone the likes of Lancelot Mortimer to stroll into the Moat House Café and study the Lover’s Wall, but .
. . she also didn’t know that he wouldn’t.
It simply wasn’t a good idea to have her likeness floating about.
Not when the Plymian government already had her picture on file.
“Right,” she said. “Good thinking, Mr. Grimm.”
They were silent for a moment, both of them suddenly very interested in tea and scones, and the lovely, comforting vibe between them may have begun to fade at last. Of course, Luna reminded herself, it couldn’t go on forever.
She’d been lucky to have these last few hours with him.
So many lovely moments to look back upon in the coming years, when she was far away in places as yet unimagined.
Suddenly, Mr. Grimm set his cup down in its saucer. “I think you should have your wishing star moment, Miss Talbot.”
“What?” Luna lifted her gaze sharply to his. There was a look of keen calculation in his eye that was almost frightening.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you trust me?”
She hesitated. “Mostly.”
“Then will you let me get you up that tower by sunset?”
Luna chewed the inside of her cheek. She leaned over the table and whispered, “Does it involve sorcery?”
He shook his head. “Whatever sorcery may or may not be involved was worked well over a hundred years ago and is quite settled magic by now. It’s safe.”
Luna narrowed her eyes. Old sorcery or new sorcery, she didn’t care for the stuff.
Still, she wasn’t ready to let this day end quite yet.
If there was any chance whatever her employer had in mind might prolong their time together, then .
. . “All right,” she said, and nodded. The shimmering tails of shooting stars clattered against her shoulders. “What do you have in mind, Mr. Grimm?”
He slid out of his seat, making a gesture with one hand. “Wait here. Right here, in this exact spot. I’ll be about forty minutes.”
She blinked. “Forty minutes?”
“Yes. I must retrieve something. From home.”
She frowned, tilting her head to one side. “What in the world are you plotting?”
His mouth creased in a grin that made her heart spin in place. “Wait and see. Forty minutes, Miss Talbot. Have another tea on me in the meanwhile.”
With that, he slipped away, abandoning her and the uneaten raspberry scone as he darted out from the Moat House Café.
Luna turned her head to watch out the window, catching sight of him a few minutes later as he appeared on the path below.
As though aware of her gaze, he turned and waved up at the window.
She doubted he could see her, but she smiled and waved back just in case.
Then she sipped the cooled remains of her tea and picked at the scone.
“Your thaumagraph, miss!” the bespectacled thaumatographer declared, appearing suddenly at her table and offering a yellow envelope. “A lovely keepsake for the happy couple!”
She skittered away again, presumably to find another pairing to bother with her services, leaving Luna to stare at the envelope in her hands.
She didn’t open it, but stared at it through narrowed eyes for some moments, chewing thoughtfully on her scone.
Finally, with a little shrug and a muttered, “How bad can it possibly be?” she flicked it open and slipped out the black-and-white image contained therein.
Her pulse jumped. Then seemed to go very, very still.
The moment captured wasn’t exactly flattering of her.
She was looking up and away, those foolish earrings swooshed in a glittery blur, and an absolutely enormous smile on her face, showing far too many teeth.
She looked happy. A bit silly, and the way her head was tilted almost made her look like she had an extra chin. But so happy.
It wasn’t her own face which drew her eye, however.
It was his.
Mr. Grimm, caught in that moment, with his mouth partially opened to speak to her. But the thaumatic flash had captured something more in that split second of revelation.
It caught the look he gave her. A look of open, gut-wrenching, absolute adoration.
So painful. So vivid.
So undeniable.
Luna’s lips parted in a soft exhale.
She must be mistaken. She must be seeing things. Wishful thinking or something. Right? Right? They said the thaumatic camera never lied, but it lied all the time. It was like a tea-scried vision—one must take care how one interpreted the flash of isolated images taken out of context.
But Luna could not tear her gaze away. It was almost as bad as seeing him stripped suddenly naked in front of her. Intensely vulnerable and . . . and . . .
Catching another sharp breath, she hastily shoved the thaumagraph back into the envelope. For a moment, she sat there, hands trembling, heart pounding. Then she grabbed her purse and stuffed the envelope inside, out of sight.