“The best.” Alfie settled back into his corner. “What should I look for.”
“A tangle of green vines at the top of a dead tree.”
Alfie studied the treetops. Just outside the edge of the forest, Atlas stopped the cart and swung down. Alfie jumped out with a thud and a clap of his hands before running off. Before Clara could join them, Atlas stood before her, holding his hand up, offering to help her down.
No one to pretend for.
She placed her hands in his, and he swung her into the air. She acted quickly, bowing beneath her body’s desires and wrapping her arms around his neck so that when he lowered her to the ground, her body dragged against his. His breath stopped on an exhale, and he slowly lowered her to the ground, every oneof her curves melting into the hard planes of his chest, his hips, his thighs on the journey downward.
She found enough breath to say, “What do you wish for, Atlas? Other than leaving?”
“To kiss you.” Said without hesitation. “A rogue’s wish, I know, but one part of me demands I taste your lips, gentlemanly behavior be damned.”
“Then do it.” Because she could take care of him while he remained.
“I don’t have the self-control to reject your permission.” His voice low, rumbled through her body.
“Kiss me.” Because she wanted it, too.
First his thumb brushed across her cheek, oh so softly. “You’ve changed your mind in some way.” Then his lips against her cheek. “I don’t care why.” Then dragging across her jaw and up to her lips. “I try to do no harm.” His lips met hers. His breath mingled with her own. “But I’d burn the world down for just one more taste of you.” He kissed her soft and sweet, the first real kiss they’d shared in weeks. Leashed just beneath the kiss’s gentle guise—an inferno of passion that would swallow them whole if he released it.
He pulled away and, one arm still wrapped around her waist, scanned their surroundings. “Alfie!”
Footsteps, the crunch of leaves. “Here!” Alfie ran out of the tree line.
“Stay close,” Clara said.
Atlas retrieved the rifle from beneath the seat and slung it over his back.
She caught his wrist before her strode off toward her son. “Atlas, I want to apologize.”
“For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“For telling you to stay away from Alfie. I no longer think that is the right thing to do. I was scared. For Alfie. But also thatI’dhurt Alfie, that I’d made another mistake with him. But I do not think coming to know you is a mistake. If you—when—you leave, he will miss you.”
“I will miss him.” Raw words, tattered, slipping from a thin-pressed mouth.
“But”—she sighed—“holy Hepplewhite, this is difficult. I am not sure there is a right answer. But I have seen such confusion from him and sadness from you, in these last few weeks, and?—”
“Do not worry over me.”
Someone had to. Shewould. She placed a palm on his cheek. “I merely wish you and Alfie to take what joys you can from one another until…” She swallowed the words.Until you leave.From this point forward, she wouldn’t speak them, would do whatever it took to keep that from happening.
“I don’t want to hurt him, Clara. Or you. I swear I’ll do my best not to hurt him. I don’t know how to be a good father. Mine lacked in many ways. You must tell me if I’m failing, if?—”
“Just love him.” She cupped his cheek, stole his gaze for herself. “Love given freely can never do harm, even if there’s a brief parting. He will survive.”
“That would make an excellent song lyric, Clara Bromley.”
“You may use it.”
“Are you sure?” He did not speak of songs, but of Alfie.
“I am, and I am sorry it took me so long to realize.” She placed a small kiss on his lips. His body overwhelmed her for a moment, pressed against every inch of her, as he deepened the kiss before stepping away. “We shall have a bit of fun today, yes?” She patted his chest.
“I should like that.”
“Let us catch up with him, then.” Clara pointed her chin at Alfie, playing at the edge of the forest.
