Tobias raked his fingers through his hair. “One is making you into a future statue, and it will be elegant, no doubt, but it won’t have your movement. You jump about like a frog.”
“I do not!”
“Do too. Additionally, your fingers dance about like they’re sketching designs into whatever surface you’re near. Another”—that damned Lockham—“is making a portrait, but portraits are flat. And you’re gracefully rounded in all the right places.”
She blushed and gripped her skirts, turning her gaze to her slippers.
“Then the poets have metaphored you out of all existence! Your eyes are stars, your skin velvet, your voice like a bell. But a bell cannot snort.”
“I do not snort.”
“A bell cannot guffaw.”
“I do not guffaw!”
He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. “I happen to like your guffaws.”
She fidgeted with the fur on her coat. “They say I’ll live forever that way—as a still statue or a flat painting or idealized verse.”
“Who says?”
“The artists.”
“Hmph. Their art may very well live forever, but I don’t seeyouin it.Youare alive right here and right now. Why can’t they appreciatethat? I begin to see why you detest the lot of them.” He strode away from her then paced back and help up his arms. “Come.”
“Pardon?”
“Come along. Get down from there. I don’t want them to make you into something you’re not. I’d rather watch you beyou.” He held his arms out, daring her.
She hesitated, but then she jumped. He caught her midair, wrapping his hands tightly around her waist and pressing her body against his as she slid to the ground. Her feet hit the dirt, but he did not release her. Everyone around him would take home a piece of Maggie from today’s events. Except for him. Unacceptable.
If the only way he could change her mind was to show her a bit of his true self, he’d just have to do it. “That blasted pedestal was wobbly. Not nearlystableenough to keep you safe.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, though. I am.”
She blinked, swayed toward him, reached up on tiptoe.
He held her tight. “Maggie, I must tell you that I’m—”
She stopped his confession with a kiss.
Chapter 14
The moment Tobias’s hands wrapped around her waist, Maggie knew what she really dared to do, and it was not come down early from the blasted pedestal. Maggie dared to kiss the marvelous man bringing her down to earth.
His lips were soft and firm, and the kiss, after his impassioned speech, felt even better than their first. It promised something the other hadn’t. Tobias’s strong hands at her waist anchored her close. His chest rose and fell against hers. His strong legs tangled in her skirts.
And then cold rushed between their bodies, and Tobias flew across the garden before crashing into the earth.
Raph stood over the dazed Tobias, hands clenched into fists. Anger sizzled in the air around him. He lurched forward.
Maggie caught his arm. “Raph, no!”
He pulled away, clearly determined to water the garden with Tobias’s blood, but Maggie’s distraction proved long enough for her mother to make a move, sliding between her son and the grounded Mr. Blake, who had recovered enough to sit up, prop his arms on his knees, and watch the drama with uncensored curiosity and amusement.
Of course.
“Move, Mother,” Raph growled.
Maggie’s mother stood her ground. “No. I’ll not let you punish Mr. Blake for fulfilling his destiny in a rather spectacular, yet not unexpected, way.”
