Page 14 of Elemental Love
“Don’t be coy. Perhaps I should have askedwhoyou were thinking about rather thanwhat.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Evrain replied, his tone stubborn.
“You were thinking abouthim, weren’t you?”
“Who?”
Agatha hissed. “You were thinking about Dominic. Your emotional energy was channeled toward him, allowing you to control your power and light the candle without the usual pyrotechnics. You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
“Even if I was, Grandma, I’d hardly confess it to you! And we just met.” Evrain’s pale skin flushed slightly.
“Why not? I know all your secrets. Who was it you first came out to?”
“You, but that doesn’t count since you knew before I did that I was gay.”
“That’s because there’s never been a warlock born who wasn’t.” Agatha rolled her eyes. “You were never going to be the exception to that rule.”
Evrain grinned. “True. But can we get off the extremely uncomfortable topic of my sex life and eat? I’m starving.”
Agatha ladled the stew into big, earthenware bowls. She put them on the table along with a crusty loaf and a carving knife. Evrain immediately sawed off a huge chunk of the bread.
“You baked! I love you.” He slathered the bread with butter and took an enormous bite. He groaned. “So good!”
Agatha took her seat and sampled a small mouthful of the stew. She hummed her appreciation. “Thisisdelicious—flavored with herbs that Dominic grew in my garden.”
“It’s excellent.” Evrain didn’t take the bait. “One of your best, in fact.”
“He’s very shy you know. Painfully so. It’s taken me months to get him comfortable here and now you’ve frightened him away.”
Clearly Evrain’s attempt to alter the course of the conversation had not succeeded. “Well, I’ll apologize next time I see him. Not that I did anything wrong. How was I to know he was more skittish than a newborn foal?”
“You use your senses, boy. Or does a pretty face completely destroy your ability to read an expression, to interpret body language?”
Evrain chewed his bread thoughtfully. “He is exceptionally pretty.”
Agatha chuckled. “He’s one of the best-looking boys I’ve ever come across. I could imagine him smiling from the pages of one of those fashion magazines you read, or acting on the television.”
“I don’t read fashions magazines, Grandma. Lifestyle ones occasionally. And if he is as shy as you say, he’d hate it. He probably wouldn’t be able to imagine anything worse than beingin the spotlight that way. Celebrity is just shallow nonsense anyway.”
“He is intensely private. He started working on the garden a year ago and I’ve still only managed to squeeze just a few small pieces of personal information out of him.”
“How did you find him, Grandma? You’ve never said.” Evrain fetched the stew pan from the stove and served himself another helping.
“Well, at the time I was looking to rescue the kitchen garden. It has become sadly neglected since your grandfather passed. It was always his thing more than mine. I asked at the plant center in town if they knew of anyone trustworthy, and the manager there gave me Dominic’s name. He started his business when he was just eighteen with a small grant and it flourished just like plants do under his hands. He’s a talented gardener but willing to take on any job, however small or menial, which gives him an advantage over larger local firms. He works long hours, he works hard and he’s scrupulously honest—a rare combination. Once I asked around a few people, it became apparent that he had more work than he could cope with. I didn’t think he’d have time for me at all.”
“So how did you acquire his services? He’s done a huge amount of work on your garden.”
“You noticed!”
“Of course I did. It was likeThe Day of the Triffidsout there. I needed a machete to get up the path before he started working on it.”
“Cheeky boy. I asked him to come over and take a look. He showed up one Sunday and fell in love with the place. We agreed a trade-off. I provide the land. He supplies hard labor and puts up with me lecturing him about herb-lore. Anything he grows he can use in his business, once he’s supplied my needs. The herbgarden is almost finished and he’s already planted the vegetable patch he’s dug in. I’m hoping for flowers and fruit trees next.”
“He had mud in his hair,” Evrain murmured. “That dark red is so unusual.”
“It needs a cut. He’s been saying so for weeks. The longer it gets, the wavier it becomes. It flops into his eyes then he brushes it away with mucky hands while he’s working. It’s always full of dirt, stalks and leaves.”
“I’ll bet his hands are rough.” Evrain examined his own soft palms. The only callous he had was from holding a pen. “But his skin was the color of fresh cream. How does he manage to avoid getting tan? He just had a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. I’d have thought the ravages of the weather would have been unavoidable in his job.”
