Page 29 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“Everything,” she blurted out.

His brow rose. “That much? Well, I was born in—”

She nudged him flirtatiously. “You know what I mean.”

He gave a sigh. “Yeah. I do,” he began hesitantly, his eyes on the white tablecloth.

She realized he wasn’t used to talking about himself. In fact, he probably would have rather eaten those sweetbreads, but he braved on, telling her about his love of teaching—a career he’d followed his mother into, inspired in part by tutoring her students. She rested her elbow on the table with her head on her hand as she listened to him.

He liked helping kids understand things, and if he didn’t know something, he’d look it up so he could help them learn it.

“It’s all changed so much,” he said. “Back in the day, if I wanted to know something, I had to go to the library, but now you only need your phone or tablet—if you know what sources are reliable, of course. Still, you can learn anything. It’s like a whole new universe of learning has opened to us. That’s wonderful, but nothing will ever transport me like books do. They connect us to things we might never see ourselves.”

The part of her that had fallen for him that first day—instantly, inescapably—tumbled a little more, but this time, it was like tumbling through a cloud.

When he lifted his gaze and met her eyes, he made a face. “Was it terrible? Me telling you about myself? I fear I’m not very good at it.”

Had past dates shamed him? She extended her hand to him. “I could listen to you talk all night. I have more questions. But right now, I just want to hold your hand as the fire sparks. Is that okay?”

“More than,” he said, his voice a shade deeper. “Sophie, another time, I’d like to talk to you about the children’s arts center. I just…didn’t want you to think I asked you out for work.”

Work? She wouldn’t have considered it possible, given the sparks between them.

“I’d love to talk shop another time, but I agree with you. Let’s stick to date stuff. You sure you don’t want to try that smoked eel? They must be making another batch. I think I see smoke coming out of the kitchen.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s my bread and butter pudding they’re scorching.”

It was so natural to smile around him, so impossible to help herself.

As they were leaving, she decided there was another item she wanted to sample with him: a first-date kiss.

She wanted one real bad.

Outside, the wind was still howling and the rain was coming down in sheets. There was no way they were going to do anything but run from the front door. No kiss there. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be drenched to the skin the first time she kissed him. No kiss in the car.

So after he paid for the check, she took his hand and surveyed their surroundings. This was a castle, for heaven’s sake, with a hotel attached. There was always a little hideaway for some kissing in a castle, right?

Would he think her too brazen?

She didn’t think so.

As they passed the library on their way out, she slowed and looked inside. There was a nice fire in the hearth but no people. Perfect.

She paused. “Will you come into the library with me for a moment?”

Her nerves kicked up as he nodded and followed her into the room. She made sure to put them out of sight, tucked around the corner. “I’m a little embarrassed to ask this, but I really want to kiss you good night, and with the rain and everything—”

“This seems the perfect place,” he finished for her, facing her now after taking his cap off. “I was trying to work it out in my head too. I’m glad you came up with a solution.”

“Call me ingenious,” she quipped and then cringed at her own jest.

“You’re that and more,” he whispered as he touched her face, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

She’d purposely kept her hat off, and she was glad she had, because he threaded his fingers through her hair and gave her heaven as he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. His mouth was soft and seeking at first, learning her shape. She moved closer until she was flush with him—his heat, his scent. She might have moaned, softly, and it was then that he cupped her nape and tilted her head, changing the angle of the kiss, taking it deeper.

Yes. Oh yes, oh yes.

She pressed into him, lifting her hand to his jaw as his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. She knew he was asking, and she answered him with a slow slide of her own tongue. A deep groan sounded, and then he was taking it deeper. Her eyes closed, and she inhaled pine and man, and then he was kissing her softly yet again before lifting his head.

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