Can’t Help Falling #2
He could sense the exact moment she collected herself and realized where she was, what she was doing.
He anticipated missing her moments before she pulled away.
The scent of her hair—blackberry and almond, like her magic—clung to his nostrils, and he found himself back in that dream.
I want you, Violet. Nathaniel had pulled his desire from the flame so it would not boil over; now with proximity, he found it burned him anyway, but oh, how he craved the heat.
The flustered way she made him feel was unacceptable. Wasn’t it?
“Look at me,” she scoffed, avoiding his eye. “Crying like some damsel.”
“Violet.” He caught his thumb softly, so softly against her chin to get her to look at him. “You are the least damsel-like creature I have ever met.”
She hiccupped, and he managed to find it adorable. “You’ve quite literally just found me overcome with panic and then saved me from certain death, after which I burst into uncontrollable tears.”
“Technically, you saved me,” mused Nathaniel, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“All of it just days after curing me of distressing nightmares—which you could hear through the wall.”
“Ah, that.” He paused, taking in her mortification. “The elixir works well, then?”
Her laugh was flat. “Like a charm. You’re a genius.” He pulled her against him again. It was instinctive, this need to be close to her, and when she relaxed, something within him did as well.
To herself more than to him, Violet muttered, “How did I ever think I could do this?”
He squinted at her, her hair wild where it had tangled in the branches and his fingers, her eyes glistening and red rimmed, an adorable speck of mud on her cheek that he tenderly wiped away. “You can do this because you are incredible.”
She froze, their eyes locked on each other.
Nathaniel finally gave in to his impulse and brushed her hair away from her damp skin, allowing himself to trace her cheekbone with the edge of his thumb. “You moved to a new place, started over, and built a business that is already thriving. All despite, well, naysayers.”
“Naysayers,” she teased, tears still gleaming in her eyes. “Who could you mean?”
“I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong.” A wry smile twisted his face. “And even if Rough Around the Hedges does fail—and Violet, I don’t think it will—the point is that I admire you having the courage to try.”
“Nathaniel Marsh, was that a compliment?”
“Would you like more?” He meant it in jest, but the look on her face had truths spilling from him like serum from an overturned vial.
“I envy the way you approach life with such hope. I am astonished by the way you embrace obstacles in your path and I’m regularly struck speechless by your smile.
I find myself looking forward to seeing you each morning in the greenhouse and I—”
He wasn’t even sure what he would have said next, and found very quickly that it didn’t much matter, because Violet had pressed her lips to his.
The kiss bore little resemblance to any expectations Nathaniel might have held of what it might be like to kiss Violet Thistlewaite (not that he’d thought about it in great detail or at any length or with increasing regularity over the past several weeks, because no, of course he hadn’t).
They came together in a way that was neither gentle nor sweet.
Her mouth was demanding and salty with tears, and he momentarily froze with astonishment—Violet was kissing him.
Violet was kissing him. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of nearly dying, or the fact that some part of him had been wanting this for weeks, but Nathaniel found the shock wore off quickly.
Before he knew it, he was returning the kiss with equal fervor.
Her lips parted beneath his, and Nathaniel swept his tongue into her mouth, knowing with dreadful, wonderful certainty that he’d uncovered a new addiction.
He kissed her like a problem he wanted desperately to solve, like a formula he’d yet to crack, and he knew that, like every other puzzle he’d ever been faced with, he’d not rest before he could explore and understand every inch of Violet Thistlewaite.
His hands dragged down her neck, thumbs skimming the dip at the base of her throat.
Unraveling her completely, he suspected as she arched against him, was an impractical pursuit.
A riddle that would take him years to solve. A lifetime perhaps.
And yet. And yet, and yet—
It was time to stop thinking so much.
Violet’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough that Nathaniel became hyperaware of her position on his lap. It had been years, if ever, since he’d felt so affected by a kiss.
“Violet,” he breathed against her lips, his own mouth quirking into a smile.
But then it was over as suddenly as it began, one more firm press from her lips, as though she were simultaneously shutting him up and sealing the occasion. A ragged gasp tore from his throat when she pulled away.
Their eyes met, each searching, her mouth still just a breath from his own.
“Thank you,” she said, then lurched to her feet, disentangling herself from him.
His head whirled, his brain and body struggling to catch up with each other.
He missed her warmth, already craved another taste of her.
He ached to touch her again, to drag her back home to his bed and allow neither of them to leave until he could sort through exactly what it was about her that made him so undone.
She reached out to help him up, and their fingers both lingered once he was on his feet.
“We need to take care of this blight,” she said quickly. “Whether or not Sedgwick is behind it, that’s our first step, and you’re the best hope this town has of reversing it.”
She was right, as much as the responsibility of it all weighed on him, and were it not for the neck-twisting series of events that had preceded it, Nathaniel would have been satisfied.
But he only felt thrown off by her brusque return to their previous conversation.
It stung. We should still be kissing right now said some part of his brain. Perhaps he should—
“Goodness, are you alright?” A woman leaned out her window across the street, calling down to them. “What happened?”
Violet dropped his hand in a rush, as though she’d only just remembered they were still touching.
“A tree came down!” Nathaniel called back, voice hoarse. “Thankfully we were able to get out of the way.”
“The cherry tree?” The woman looked puzzled. “It was perfectly healthy just this morning.”
Nathaniel looked back at the tree. He’d registered the pink-and-white petals when it fell, of course, but only now did he allow himself to really notice it.
She was right; the entire fallen canopy was laden with fat blossoms that should have hung low with fruit later this season.
There weren’t even any dead branches. He frowned and followed the trunk to the break, where streaks of black rot stained the splintered wood.
The base of the trunk, still anchored in the ground where it had broken, was entirely black at its core.
“The blight must have infected its root system,” said Violet from where she stood, not nearly close enough to him. “The roots probably reached the rot we were looking at.”
“We’ll have to make sure to clear all the debris so it doesn’t spread,” said Nathaniel, agreeing. He had already spotted more blight in the grass, a large chunk of black wood at its center where it must have fallen with the tree. “Can you call upon your rock goblin friend to help?”
“Peri,” Violet corrected. “I’ll try.”
Nathaniel turned back to the woman in the window. “We’ve got to go and get help. Can you keep watch over this mess and make sure no one touches it?”
“Aye,” said the woman, nodding. Many of the villagers in the central district of Dragon’s Rest were well familiar with the protocol now. “I’ll send my son down to gather some helpers and lend a hand.”
“That would be most appreciated,” said Nathaniel. He searched his pockets for a pair of work gloves but only came up with the fine suede pair he wore to ward off unexpected cold. His hands would have to do.
“I’ll get Peri,” said Violet. “And I’ll ask Pru to get more people.”
He wanted to call after her, offer to come with her, pull her back to him by the sleeve and kiss her again, but she had already dashed away.