Page 48 of Tempting Fate
“That is why you spend so much time in the greenhouse,” he realized, remembering a few afternoons and evenings he’d been brave enough to linger in the courtyard archway to see her tend her numerous plants.
“That, among other things.”
“What other things?”
She wiped her fingers on the cloth, and he noted that she’d not yet moved from between his knees. “Just whatever strikes my fancy, I suppose. I like the speed at which things grow.”
“Speed?” He lifted an inquiring brow.
Her lashes swept down. “I suppose that’s the wrong word for it. Less speed… more fortitude. Plants are so fickle sometimes, so delicate, and often need very specific care. But at the same time, they can be so determined to bloom. To find a way. I like to think I can help. There’s something lovely about plunging my fingers in the soil. I appreciate the smell and the textures. I love tiny veins on the leaves and the imperceptible movements of the buds. Some follow the sun, but you never see them move. It’s a world so fascinating to me, one full of life and yet so still and silent. It is where I feel useful, but not necessary.”
Retrieving a small sticking plaster from the sink, she returned to apply it, catching her tongue in the corner of her lip as she concentrated. “My secret for this salve is tea tree. It will help with scarring.”
“What is one more scar?” he asked wryly.
She puffed out a breath of mirth and it washed him in goosebumps. Her lips were right there. Every muscle in his body knew it.
“Mr. Severand!” She grabbed at his sleeve, and he looked down to see a dark red blotch on it. “You’re cut!”
“It’s nothing, I’ll look after it when you’re done here.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Oh, dear God.”
The cloth he’d been holding over the slash had tumbled to the ground at their feet when she’d seized upon his arm. He’d bled through the thin material, as she’d stayed longer than he’d expected her to.
“I’m— I’m sorry.” Her legs gave out suddenly and he caught her before she tumbled to the floor. Suddenly limbless, she slid down his body.
Her blueberry eyes went almost comically wide beneath her spectacles as they each became abruptly aware of the erection pulsing between them.
Gabriel forgot to breathe. She had no panels. No corset. Nothing but billowing fabric between her breasts and his cock.
Christ. It felt amazing.
Felicity, on the other hand, visibly lost control of her lungs, expanding and contracting her ribs against the insistently hard flesh between them. Her pupils dilated so large, the black threatened to swallow all that cerulean with a darkness that didn’t belong on her features.
Was she astonished? Shocked? Displeased? Offended?
Aroused?
Certainly not.
He reached for her shoulders, intent upon helping her to stand. Hoping she wouldn’t be sick.
Instead, she fainted.
Gabriel caught her and leaned her against his good side as he used his shirt to tie a bandage on the slash.
Grunting in pain as he picked her up, he carried her to her chamber and settled her on the bed, pulling up the covers and tucking them beneath her chin.
In every fantasy he ever had, he crawled in beside her.
“Goodnight, Felicity.”
Taking a liberty he didn’t deserve, he bent to plant a kiss on her forehead before escaping back to the washroom.
Ripping off his ruined, knotted shirt, he went about the tedious and painful job of washing his wound and stitching it up using the mirror and one-handed magic. It wasn’t the pierce of the needle that set his teeth on edge, but the sensation of the thread running through the skin.
He gritted through it, only requiring six stitches in all. Once he’d finished, he swiped some of the salve on the wound before layering gauze over it and wrapping a bandage around his rib cage to keep it in place.
