“Aaawwww.” The twins went limp, their arms sodden ropes at their sides.
“But… if I see the cat, I’ll scoop it up and bring it to you.”
“Yay!” They jumped up and down.
“Let’s go look for it!” Thomas said, running for the door.
Nicholas followed.
“Be careful!” Jackson shouted, laughing. He looked toward the window, his laughter dying a swift death at the sight of Gwendolyn drenched in sunlight. He joined her and looked out into the garden. Together, their breath fogged the glass.
Tonight, he’d likely dream of her here at this window, looking out as if watching for him to come home, and watching her, the portrait of his mother and father—his family, all of them. And in the dream, he’d be striding home, no doubt, not having strayed too far.
Should terrify him, a man who’d been traveling for six years straight. More than that, really. Since before their deaths.
But he felt only… he couldn’t describe. Only that it felt like sitting in a sunbeam on a cold day—perfect.
He turned his back to the window and leaned against the wall at its side to study her. “I was up early this morning, walked out to watch the sun rise.”
“I’ve not done that in”—she blushed—“months.”
Since the night they spent in the tower together?
“It was more beautiful than I can put in words. Since I can’t describe it, I’ll have to show you, bring you along so you can watch it with me.”
When he received no reply, he continued. “I’d like to see a spring sunset. And a summer one here. I don’t remember what they look like.” Perhaps he wouldn’t stay away so long next time. He’d return after his next trip abroad instead of waiting a year or more. Then he’d return again with each new season to see his home cloaked in different colors. “Which do you think you’ll like better? A spring sunset or a summer one?”
She inhaled sharply, shook her head, and turned to him. “Will you kiss me?”
Did he dream?
She tugged on his sleeve, her eyes begging. “Jackson? One final kiss?”
He swept her into his arms and crushed her up against the wall in a slim bit of space between window and some large landscape. He pressed a leg between hers, lifted upward, and she moaned into his slanted mouth, so he parted his lips to catch that moan and taste it better, more fully.
She slipped her tongue between his lips and grasped at his shoulders, deepening the kiss and healing something cracked in his heart. That blown glass that had shattered—glued back together with a kiss, a touch.
“Miss Smith! Miss Smith!”
Feet running down the hall, voices getting louder, closer.
They ripped apart, laughing, just before the twins ran into the gallery.
“We found your cat!” the cried.
“You have?” Gwendolyn said, smoothing her skirts. “Will you take it away for me?”
“No!” Nicholas scowled.
“Come introduce us properly, Miss Smith.” Thomas put his small hand in hers and pulled her out of the room.
Hope fluttered in Jackson’s chest. She’d asked him for distraction, then trusted him with a kiss, and now she was running off to be a bit silly with his brothers. It all felt so… familial. And perfect. And rather like something he’d never known he wanted but absolutely did.
* * *
Gwendolyn followed the boys down the hall, her body an inferno, her chest heavy with guilt. She shouldn’t have asked for a kiss. She should have told Jackson the truth. He’d set her up so beautifully, had created the perfect opening for her to tell him. She would be leaving soon and would never see a spring sunset her, nor a summer one. Her days near him, flirting and fighting, were numbered.
Twelve
