Page 72

Tomorrow, I had to try. Tonight, all I had to do was sit with him.

My eyes skipped over the oaks and maples and tupelos, their colors bright within the darkness, while the stars nipped above us. Somewhere out there were a million acorns.

I leaned my temple against the swing rope, letting my gaze wander over the expanse. “I had building blocks when I was a child. They were my favorite toys. I’d spend hours trying to reconstruct the sky.”

“Did you?” he asked, his grin resurfacing.

“Every night, I’d connect the stars like dots, pretending they were nails and pins, something I could hold together and replicate. I was too critical of my attempts, though. When I gave up, I moved on to things like roots and trees, and that was easier. I made them out of twigs.”

“As a lad, I tried to fly off the ledge of my home,” Aire reminisced. “The wind felt like a promise, like it would support me. I feared crashing, but I trusted intuition.”

“What happened?”

“I broke my leg.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth.

“And I broke the roof of my family’s chicken coop, at which point the ladies clucking inside were not amused.”

Now I clamped both hands over my mouth, my shoulders shaking. I felt bad for laughing, but he chuckled with me.

“Shh,” I lectured. “The owl will disown us.”

“It has already forsaken you, whereas I remain in its good graces.”

“I regret nothing.”

“You shouldn’t. If not to the owl, you make a lovely picture to the rest of your audience,” he said.

Our gazes met. Our swings knocked together.

My humor ebbed as I remembered that shirt flapping open, revealing the solid breastplate of his chest. A beautiful gate through which I could not pass.

I wanted to ask whatcollision of feelingshe’d meant before, but that would be a gamble, since... “You’re not subtle.”

“I am forthright,” he acknowledged. “As are you.”

“You’ve called me a liar.”

“In this short period of acquaintance, I’ve thought and felt many things about you.” A wry slant of lips. “You cannot deny that unseemly tongue of yours.”

“You haven’t heard the half of me yet.”

“Some impressions of you remain steadfast, but with others, I confess, I’ve been mistaken. I sense people, and it’s not often that I must make apologies for a lapse in judgment, though I would beg your pardon now, if you would grant it.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“It gladdens me to hear that.” His grin broadened. “You do realize that I shall still report you to the Crown for your transgressions.”

I slapped my seat and quipped, “You had to ruin it, didn’t you? We were having such a dandy time.”

He chuckled again, his lilt making the leaves clap and my lips ache. His mirth also did epic things to his chest. I wanted to thank those muscles for spending time with me. I wanted to bake them a cake.

“On the contrary, your company tonight is a pleasure,” he said. “I am enjoying myself with you.”

I ducked my head. “Pretty extreme change of heart.”

“I see no point in dallying if I’ve made an error about someone. That isn’t to say I consider you an innocent, undeserving of retribution for your actions, or that you don’t continue to discomfort me, but on this eve, those feelings have receded. I had my misgivings about finding solace, night stroll or not, but now I have hope of a good rest. For that, you have my thanks. So yes, my spirits are heartened at present.”