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When they reached the tree, she looked about her on the ground. ‘I think it is a bit too early. There really aren’t many here.’ She gingerly picked up a twig with a couple of bright green whiskery-looking balls attached to it.

He reached for it.

‘Stop’ she said.

The dog barked at her sharp tone.

‘Enough,’ Damian said to him.

She laughed. ‘He is protecting you. Don’t touch them. They really are horribly prickly.’

‘Oh, now I remember.’ He remembered something else.

He took the twig and dropped it on the ground. He gently captured one of the casings between his boots and split the soft shell open. Out spilled three bright glossy reddish-brown nuts. He picked them up and popped them in her basket.

‘I do remember this tree. Not its location, exactly. But I remember doing this when out on a walk with my mother.’

It was a strangely painful memory he wished he had not recalled.

‘It is a good thing you have sturdy leather gloves,’ she said. ‘Mine are far too thin for the task. Perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, you could gather up whatever we can find and I will shell them when we get back.’

He raked through the leaves and found quite a few more spiky shells. Almost enough to half fill her basket, but the majority of the harvest remained up on the tree. ‘Shall I climb up?’ he asked.

She glanced upwards. ‘Actually, I think it is time we returned to the house, because I think it is starting to rain again. Much harder than before.’

The sky had indeed got much darker.

And, if he wasn’t mistaken, the wind had picked up, too. He took the basket.

‘And we still haven’t found any mushrooms that you promised me for dinner,’ he teased.

She pulled her hood up over her hat. ‘Then we had better hurry.’

And hurry they did. They were almost to the edge of the forest when she dove off to one side. ‘Yes,’ she called out. ‘Exactly what I was hoping for. Chanterelles.’

She foraged around, popping small, yellow, frilly fungi in the basket he held out to her as she went.

‘There. That will be enough,’ she said.

The rain was coming down harder, but she was grinning from ear to ear as she looked up at him. She looked positively lovely. Sweet. Happy. Full of joy at such a simple accomplishment.

And he couldn’t stop himself. He bent his head and kissed her cheek. She tasted of fresh cold air and sweet, sweet smiles.

She gasped.

He stepped back, mentally shaking his head at his madness. What the devil had come over him?

She touched a gloved finger to her face as if she could still feel his touch. ‘Oh.’

And he wanted to kiss her again.

Properly. On her mouth. With his hands on her, instead of clutching a basket full of prickles.

A gust of wind brought raindrops splattering down on them.

She laughed. He grinned back at her. Indescribably relieved that she didn’t look the least bit offended. To his shock, she rose up on her toes and, holding on to his lapels, she kissed him back. A soft sweet brush of her warm plush lips on his mouth.

Instant arousal.