Chapter 23 #2
She locked eyes with Thomasin, who was lying in the exact same position, parallel to her.
Wet curls stuck to her forehead, and there was sand stuck in her hair and all over her skin.
The cold had turned her cheeks bright pink.
Her chest heaved up and down in a rapid rhythm.
A breathless smile broke out across her face, and with the golden sun shining down on her, sharpening the lines of her face, casting a glow in her dark hair, Edith thought Thomasin just might be an angel.
When Thomasin sat up, then tilted her head to the side to shrug off the satchel, Edith sobered abruptly.
The staff was undamaged, but her satchel was completely soaked through.
Thomasin held the pack out to her, and Edith sat up too, reaching for it with a limp, clumsy hand.
She almost didn’t want to open it, terrified that the last remnants of her grandmother would be gone forever.
But Edith didn’t like suspense. She needed to know.
With shaking hands, she flung open the flap.
She fell back against the sand in pure relief. Her books, her extra clothes, they were all waterlogged and destroyed. But the urn was absolutely, completely fine. The ceramic was wet, but the lid was in place and the wax seal intact. Thomasin had saved it.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Edith suddenly remembered the necklace in her pocket. She just hoped it hadn’t been lost in the wreckage. Not daring to look away from Thomasin, Edith fished around in her pocket until she felt her finger prick against the glass. “I have a gift for you,” she said.
Thomasin leaned back on an elbow, torso twisting slightly so that she was looking down at Edith more directly. “You don’t,” she said, her lips curving into a disbelieving smile.
Edith knew exactly how those lips tasted. How they felt trailing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, just beneath the hemline of her blouse.
God, how she didn’t want to mess this up, didn’t want to lose her.
Edith lifted her hand and let the cord unspool so that the pendant hung between them. “For you,” she said, feeling shy all of a sudden.
Thomasin reached for it, eyes wide. She let the pendant rest gently in her palm.
“I know it’s just sea glass,” Edith said quickly, “but I thought it was beautiful, and it reminded me of you. So I thought you might like—”
Thomasin slanted her lips against Edith’s in a hard kiss. “I fucking love the hell out of you.”
Edith felt her lips break into a wide smile. She lifted her head from the sand, chasing Thomasin’s lips.
She got brave, straying from Thomasin’s mouth. Edith pressed kisses along the curve of her jaw, her exploration growing more bold as she passed the shell of her ear and ventured down the column of her throat. Edith felt Thomasin’s hummingbird pulse beneath her tongue.
Thomasin’s skin tasted like seawater and smelled of apples and smoke. She knew then that she would chase this feeling—chase Thomasin—forever.
Thomasin dragged Edith’s mouth back to her own. Her palms were rough with callouses and sand against Edith’s cheeks.
A wave crashed into them, sea-foam bubbling over their legs.
They broke apart with a scream as the cold shocked their systems, reminding them they had already been dripping with icy water.
It had been too easy to forget their frozen toes as they’d lost themselves in the heat that burned amid their tangled limbs, a tiny flame igniting in every place their bodies met.
But now the cold had intruded too thoroughly.
“We need to find shelter before the sun goes down,” Edith said.
Though her kiss-swollen lips were trembling, teeth audibly chattering, Thomasin gave her a look that, mixed with the way her hand tightened on Edith’s hip, said the last thing she wanted to do right now was let go of her.
But with one last kiss, Thomasin dragged herself away with a groan, then pulled Edith to her feet alongside her.
Bardsey Island loomed before them. Clouds hung low around the dark-green foliage, like the whole island was hiding from the world.
Were the gates of Avalon hidden among the rocks and trees and gloom?
Edith imagined she could feel a tug of magic pulling her inland.
Though the island had once been a popular religious site, it was now mostly deserted.
With no small amount of luck, they stumbled upon an abandoned church.
The steeply pitched roof was half caved in, and the arched wooden door hung off only one hinge, but the walls were at least sturdy enough to block the wind.
They made their way down the aisle, broken pews on either side, their boots crunching on tiny shards of stained glass.
Just beyond the altar, they found an alcove above which the roof was still mostly intact.
Through the missing slats, you could just see the stars peeking out from behind the clouds.
Thomasin tore down the curtains from the confessional booth, the somewhat sacrilegious act pulling a bubble of laughter from Edith’s chest. She laid one down on the splintery wooden floor, then cut the second one in half.
Holding the length of fabric out to Edith, she said, “We’ll freeze to death if we stay in wet clothes.
” Her tone was casual, matter-of-fact, but Edith still blushed as she took the curtain.
“I’ll change in there.” Thomasin inclined her head toward the confessional, then disappeared into the booth.
Edith stood, as frozen as her fingers and toes, listening to the sound of Thomasin’s rustling clothes.
She heard something drop to the floor, saw a leather sleeve hanging out of the booth.
Thomasin’s hand snaked out to retrieve one of the braided cords that had been used to tie the curtains back.
She tossed one in Edith’s direction and kept the other for herself.
“You can use this to cinch it!” she called out.
Edith shook herself from her stupor and backed farther into the alcove.
First, she took her boots off. Her toes curled into the soft velvet of the curtain Thomasin had laid out.
The thought of being alone with Thomasin, dressed in nothing but a sweep of fabric, had her stomach flipping.
But in the last weeks, Thomasin had not once pushed for more than Edith wanted to give.
She’d been content with the kissing, and the touching that stayed just this side of innocence.
What they were wearing would not change that.
Thomasin would still follow her pace. The problem was Edith was beginning to want more.
Her want was slowly eclipsing her insecurities.
Edith didn’t know how much longer she could resist temptation, or why she was bothering to resist at all.
“Are you decent?” Thomasin’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“One second!” Edith shimmied out of her skirt, the damp linen sticking to her legs.
She pulled her blouse over her head, and then she was standing there in just her underthings, and there really wasn’t any going back.
She wrapped the curtain around her body like a strapless dress.
It fell to her mid thigh, and though the outside was a plush velvet, the inside was scratchy.
She tied the cord very tightly around the top of the curtain, just above her breasts.
Trying not to think about how much skin this makeshift dress revealed, more than anyone had ever seen, she said in a voice that came out smaller than she intended, “You can come out.”
Thomasin emerged from the confessional, and Edith’s breath caught in her throat.
Red was Thomasin’s color. It brought out the pink of her lips, the bloom of color softening the slash of her cheekbones.
Edith’s eyes traced every line of Thomasin’s body.
Every lean muscle and sharp line. The slight curve of her hips.
The tattoos adorning her legs, arms, chest, and hands.
She raked her gaze over all of it, greedily.
Edith thought of that night by the river, early on.
When she’d seen Thomasin completely bare.
There had been attraction then, but it had been a fantasy, an impossibility.
This, Thomasin wrapped in velvet, was far more dangerous because now Thomasin was hers.
Edith could have all of her, if she was brave enough.
“Keep looking at me like that, and these curtains won’t stay on for long,” Thomasin drawled, a sideways grin tugging at her lips.
Edith couldn’t think of anything suave to say, and Thomasin took pity on her by drawing her in for a kiss. She said against Edith’s mouth, “Let’s eat.”
Once they had a fire going, it was quite warm, tucked into their little corner, curled against one another.
Thomasin roasted a squirrel she had caught on their way to the church, and Edith didn’t even mind that it was stringy and charred.
Full, and warm, and together, Edith felt a contentedness she thought she’d lost forever.
A feeling of home, of belonging, that reminded her of the best parts of being a child, safe with her family and surrounded by love.
This was a new kind of love. Scary and unfamiliar. Staggering and wonderful.
This love, she had found for herself.
Edith’s head rested in the crook of Thomasin’s shoulder, and she listened to the steady beat of her heart.
Thomasin’s fingers stroked idly through Edith’s hair.
She didn’t know how long fate would let her hold on to this, but she wanted to love Thomasin in all the ways that you could love a person.
She wanted to feel loved in the same way.
So she tilted her head up, pressed a palm to Thomasin’s cheek, and urged her forward until their mouths collided.
“I love you,” she said in between kisses that grew more heated and frantic by the second.
“I want all of you,” she confessed as Thomasin’s lips trailed open-mouth kisses along her cheek.
Thomasin stilled, looking up at Edith, the fire casting an ever-shifting shadow against her skin.