Page 12 of Horned to be Wild (Harmony Glen #7)

CHAPTER TWELVE

P aint still speckled Lila’s hair the next day as she made the final adjustments to her paintings.

The colorful aftermath of yesterday’s impromptu paint fight with Torin had transformed both of them.

She smiled at the memory of his deep laughter, the way his amber eyes had lit up with mischief, how natural it had felt to be wrapped in his powerful arms.

“I never thought I’d see you like that,” she said, glancing over at him as he put the finishing touches on the intricate edge of the Narnia doorframe.

“Like what?” His hands remained steady, though a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Playful. Happy.” She set down her brush and stretched, wincing at the stiffness in her shoulders. “It suits you.”

“I didn’t know I could still be that way,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, get used to it,” she teased, moving to stand behind him. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, her thumbs pressing into the tight muscles at the base of his neck. “I plan to make you laugh a lot more.”

He leaned back into her touch with a low rumble of appreciation that sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She continued massaging his shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath her fingers.

“The carvings are incredible,” she murmured, looking at the doorframes spread around the workshop. “The children are going to be thrilled.”

“Do you really think so?” There was a vulnerability in his question that made her chest ache.

“I know so.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, between his magnificent horns. “They’re magical.”

The next morning dawned clear and bright—installation day. She fidgeted nervously as they loaded the finished pieces into his truck. Each doorframe was a masterpiece, the intricate carvings a perfect frame for her paintings.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?” she asked again as they pulled up to the elementary school. “Mrs. Gable would love to meet you, and the kids won’t be there yet.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “No. We had an agreement.”

She nodded, understanding his reluctance. “Okay. But remember what I said—your art speaks for itself. You don’t need to be there to prove its worth.”

He loaded everything onto a large dolly, then reached out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Go. Make magic.”

Inside the library, Mrs. Gable nearly wept at the sight of the first doorframe. “This is beyond anything I imagined,” she breathed, running her fingers reverently over the carved lamppost with its intricate ice crystals. “Won’t you tell me who made these so I can thank them?”

“He prefers to remain anonymous,” she said firmly, even though she wished she could tell everyone. “Let’s just say Harmony Glen has hidden talents.”

They worked together to hang one of the vibrant murals, then fit the magnificent carved doorway around it.

Each pairing created a portal-like effect, as if a child could step through into Narnia’s winter woods, Bilbo’s cozy Hobbit hole, the Little Prince’s planet, or the lush, mysterious Secret Garden.

The installation took longer than she’d planned and as the teachers began to arrive they stopped by to see the transformation. Their murmurs of appreciation filled her with satisfaction. If only Torin could hear them.

“Look at the details on this little faun!”

“And the way these vines seem to be growing right out of the wall…”

“How did they make the wood look like it’s moving?”

Small faces began appearing at the library windows—curious children from the before-school program, pressing their noses against the glass, eyes wide with wonder. Mrs. Gable finally relented and opened the doors to let them enter.

“Is it magic?” a small girl with pigtails asked, reaching out to touching a carved rose on the Little Prince door with reverent fingers.

“The very best kind,” she said, kneeling next to her. “The magic of books and art.”

As she secured the final doorframe, she felt a rush of exhilaration. The library had been transformed from a drab, institutional space into a wonderland of color and imagination.

A flicker of movement outside the window caught her eye and she spotted Torin half-hidden in the bushes. So he hadn’t been able to stay away completely. Buoyed by the success of the installation, a delicious idea formed in her mind.

“Those doorframes are extraordinary,” commented a teacher standing nearby. “How did the artist get such delicate detail in solid wood?”

She smiled wickedly. “Oh, he has the most amazing… touch,” she replied, just loud enough to carry through the cracked window. “He’s incredibly talented with his fingers.”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto hers through the glass, and his expression of shock sent a thrill through her. Pleased by his reaction, she trailed her fingers down the edge of the frame.

“The Secret Garden has always been my favorite. There’s something magical about the idea of a hidden paradise. One that you have to have the right key to access.”

She traced the outline of a key on the garden door, and his gaze followed the movement of her hand, his eyes darkening with hunger.

“Once you find the key, it’s just a matter of sliding it into the lock,” she continued. “Feeling it fit the lock perfectly.”

The teacher gave her a confused look, and she smiled at her. “I think the children are waiting for us. Shall we?”

As the teacher turned away, she looked back out the window and saw that Torin had disappeared. She wasn’t really surprised, but at least he’d heard some of the praise of his work—and hopefully her teasing had given him something to think about.

She joined the teacher and they led the children around the room, talking about stories behind each door and pointing out all the tiny details. She was demonstrating to a group of wide-eyed kindergarteners how different angles made the carvings seem to move when a large shadow fell across them.

Torin stood in the doorway, his shoulders brushing both sides and his horns nearly scraping the top. The children gasped, a few of them shrinking back, others staring with undisguised curiosity.

“Mr. Torin!” One brave little boy with a furry tail broke from the group, running to him. “Did you see the magic doors? They’re the best thing ever!”

“I’m glad you think so, Ollie,” he said gruffly. “I’m sure Miss Lila will show you all the secrets they hold.”

“You’re the wood man,” the little girl who’d admired the rose announced, and the other children echoed her, visibly relaxing now that they knew who he was. Of course—he probably delivered wood to most of their houses.

He was still standing awkwardly by the door, but Ollie tugged on his hand. “You should come and see them.”

“Maybe later.” He patted the boy’s head and shot her an almost desperate look. “Right now I need to talk to Miss Lila. Do you think she could spare a minute?”

“Of course. Go ahead, dear.” Mrs. Grable smiled and hugged her. “This was a brilliant idea. I know the children are going to enjoy them for many years to come.”

Happy, unexpected tears sprang to her eyes.

“I’m so glad you think so.” She shot a quick sideways glance at Torin. “Maybe we could fill in some of the other blank spots over time.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you again.”

The older woman was still holding her hands but the last words seemed to be addressed to Torin. Did she suspect his involvement? What if his wood carving wasn’t quite as secret as he believed?

She was still pondering the idea when he tugged her out of the library, practically dragging her along behind him.

“Hey,” she protested. “I’m not a little goat. You can’t just drag me everywhere.”

“You deserve it. Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Who me?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes at him.

He growled and lifted her into the truck, slamming the door behind her before he stalked around to the driver’s side.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled, leaning towards her.

Heat flooded her body at the raw hunger in his expression.

“I was just being honest.” She tilted her face up to his, not bothering to hide her own desire. “Your hands are remarkable. Your fingers are very, very talented. And I’ve thought about exploring secret gardens with you all day.”

A groan escaped him, and then his mouth was on hers, silencing her teasing with a kiss that left no doubt about exactly what he thought of her provocations.

There was nothing gentle about it—this was possession, claiming, his powerful arms caging her against the seat as his lips moved demandingly against hers.

She melted into him, her hands clutching at his horns to pull him closer. His hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head to give him better access, and his tongue swept into her mouth with a low, hungry growl.

“Teasing little witch,” he muttered against her lips, his breath hot and urgent. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“The same thing you do to me.” She nipped his lower lip, delighting in the way he shuddered. “Let’s go home.”

They drove silently back to her cottage, the air between them practically vibrating with tension. When they pulled into her driveway, neither of them moved immediately. The engine idled, a counterpoint to her racing heart.

“I’m proud of you for sharing your work,” she said finally, turning to face him. “Those children were enchanted by it. You created magic today.”

His expression softened. “ We made magic.”

“We make a good team.” She reached out, placing her hand on his forearm.

“Yes.” He stared at her hand on his arm, then raised his eyes to meet hers. The raw hunger there made her breath catch. “A very good team.”

Time seemed to stop as he leaned slowly across the seat, one hand cupping her cheek, and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her dizzy. Unlike their previous kiss, this was slower, deeper, but no less intense—a deliberate stoking of the fire between them.

When they broke apart, her entire body thrummed with desire, and she reached for the door handle. “Come inside with me.”

He put his hand over hers instead. His eyes were dark with want, but there was a flicker of something else—restraint, perhaps even fear.

“I can’t.” he said, his voice a rough caress. “I’m too close to losing control.”

The raw need in his words sent heat pooling low in her belly. She didn’t think it would take much to push him into losing that precious control, but she was afraid he would regret it. He had to make the decision. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try and encourage him.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I know. And that’s the problem.” He leaned his forehead against hers, and his horns brushed her temples. “I won’t risk hurting you.”

“But you wouldn’t.” She placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You know that.”

He closed his eyes. “Not intentionally, no. But…”

“But?”

He opened his eyes and looked directly at her. “My control is hanging by a thread. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.”

The intensity of his gaze stole her breath. Her heart pounded, and her clit actually pulsed in time with it.

“Then don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

He hesitated, his jaw working. “I need to think about it.”

She nodded, not wanting to push him too hard.

“Come by for breakfast tomorrow,” she invited. “We can… talk more then.”

“I will.” He kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, and she felt a shudder ripple through him. “Go,” he ordered gruffly when they separated. “Before I change my mind.”

She climbed down from the truck reluctantly, knowing she’d pushed as far as she dared for one day, and watched as he pulled out of her driveway. Her body still thrummed from his kiss, and she knew sleep would be elusive tonight. But it would be worth it if he finally let go of his fears.