“Evan!” Luz screamed as she tossed her boots, fisted the hems of her skirts and ran to the water as fast as she could. Her bonnet would’ve flown off her head but for the silk ribbon tied to her neck. The beach bank went on forever here, the wet sand extending for what looked like miles before one reached the small waves gently lapping at it.
In the Caribbean the water reached land hungrily. A fierce, passionate embrace. Here it was a slower, more sedate joining. The sand was cool on her feet, and dark, not white and fluffy like she was used to, but there was still that briny air that stuck to your face and the sound of water, air and sand comingling incessantly.
She was home.
Luz’s euphoria lasted right until she reached the water and the burning iciness of it stole her breath. She laughed through her gasps as the frigid spray she’d kicked up slashed her face.
“I thought you were going to turn into a mermaid and swim away,” Evan teased, catching up to her. His smile was different here, those sharp edges gone, replaced by laugh lines that crinkled his eyes and made him look younger and so comely it made her ache somewhere deep inside.
God, she wanted this man. Wanted him with an intensity that scared her. More than wanted, she...loved him.
Unbidden—mortifyingly—a sob escaped her throat, and her vision blurred from tears.
“The water is so cold,” she blubbered as Evan gathered her to him, peppering kisses on every surface of her face.
“Ah, mo cridhe, I should’ve told you. It’s icy even in the summer.” He spoke to her in a soothing voice he used on her sometimes.
“It’s all right,” she assured him, feeling silly now, even as her feet went numb in the frosty waves lapping at them. “And it is beautiful here.”
Itwasstunning.
So vast and green, and yet stark all at once. And so far away from the home she knew. Another sob tore out of her throat, and before she knew it he’d swept her up in his arms, her cold feet dangling in the air.
“Enough of toying with hypothermia. Let’s get you to dry land.” Instead of demanding he put her down, Luz pressed her face to the crook of his neck and inhaled that now-familiar and comforting scent of sandalwood. “The tent is not quite as lavish as our bedchamber at Braeburn Hall, but it’ll do for a lazy morning, I hope.” Her chest tightened at the casual manner in which he referred to their bedchamber.
The descent from this would be dark and terrible.
“Here we are.” Luz lifted her head to get a good look. She’d only gotten a glimpse of it before she’d ran off like a lunatic toward the water.
“Is this for us?”
“For you,” he corrected, then gently put her down so she could walk the rest of the way.
“How did you get all this here?” she asked, amazed.
The canopy had to be twenty feet wide. The floor under the tent was covered in rugs and carpets, and there were cushions of all shapes and sizes. Along one side of it was a table with jugs of water and what looked like lemonade at one end, and a stack of small plates, linen napkins and cutlery at the other. There was even a small crystal vase with white irises and pink roses. Evan walked over and placed the two baskets of food they’d brought with them at the center of the table, then turned back to her.
“You said you missed days on the beach.” He sounded casual enough, but she saw two small red circles appear on the apple of his cheeks as he walked over to her.
He was nervous. Unsure if she’d like what he’d prepared for her. He was all flushed and reminded Luz of her da when he’d stayed out for too long in the Caribbean sun.
“You did all this forme?” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“I had a lot of help,” he confessed. How could it be that the man was even more dangerous when he showed this bashful side? “Mrs. Crawford recruited half of the staff to carry all this down here at dawn. Which means you are obligated to love it, for the poor woman’s sake. One of the footmen nearly maimed himself when she insisted only the marble-top sideboard would do.”
She laughed at his attempt at expressing concern for the footman’s tent-related injuries.
“I will be certain to express my gratitude to Mrs. Crawford. Thank you.”
“I may require a more forthright expression of that sentiment,” he announced as he put his arms around her. She would miss this most of all, feeling cocooned in his solid embrace. “I want to know, does the beach meet some of your very high standards? Iciness aside, of course.”
Luz Alana let herself be rocked by Evan as she looked out. She’d been to other beaches in Europe. Nice and the Amalfi Coast, but they didn’t look quite like this.
“Hm,” she mused, searching for the right words. “There are rocky beaches in Hispaniola too, but everything is surrounded by palm trees. And there’s so much life around the water. The tropics were created to envelop, to cradle. The water itself is like a warm hug. That might not make a lot of sense.” She cringed at her rambling, but he made an encouraging noise which she recognized as hisTell me more.
“The tropics are lush and vivid, and there’s this place which is rugged and a bit sparse but no less beautiful. I can already see myself falling in love with her.” His hold on her became slightly stronger then. “In some ways it’s better that it is so different. I don’t ever have to feel like I’m replacing it.”
“You belong here,” he told her. She turned in his arms, sinking into the feel of him, and soon she was being picked up and placed gently in the nest of pillows on the rugs. He covered her with his strong body, his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck—he was much more casual in his dress at Braeburn—and she could see the trail of hair on his chest that went down to his...
