Page 41 of Tempests & Tea Leaves (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #1)
Chapter Forty-One
The morning air carried a particular sweetness that seemed reserved exclusively for the earliest hours, when dew still clung to grass blades and the world had not yet fully awakened. Iris, sitting on the cushioned window seat of her alcove, inhaled deeply. The leaves of the cascading vines stirred around her with a soft rustle, accompanied by the soft chirping of birds greeting the day. From the kitchen, she could hear the playful giggles of kitchen pixies preparing for the morning’s tasks, the sound carrying through the open door across the main floor of The Charmed Leaf.
Despite her exhaustion from the previous day’s event, Iris had risen early as usual, unable to break the habit even when a well-deserved morning of rest beckoned. This quiet time had become precious to her—a moment of stillness before the tea house hummed with patrons and conversation. She cradled her cup of ‘Autumn his thumb traced a path down to her chin, gently turning her face aside to expose the line of her throat.
“No,” he murmured, almost to himself. His hand trailed down, his knuckles grazing the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. “The first part of you I wish to kiss,” he whispered, lowering his mouth toward her shoulder, “is right here.”
A breath caught in Iris’s throat as his lips pressed against her skin. “This precise spot,” he murmured, pressing another kiss beside the first, sending shivers cascading through her, “has been tempting me since the moment you first sat at your desk across the study from me.”
“My neck,” Iris managed breathlessly, her eyes sliding closed, “has most certainly not been tempting you.”
She felt him chuckle against her skin, his lips dragging upward in a slow, deliberate path that left her trembling. “Even now, you wish to argue with me?”
“I wish to argue with you always,” she laughed, the sound transforming into another gasp as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin below her ear.
“Always?” he repeated. “Is that a promise?”
“Indeed,” she breathed as his lips found their way along her jaw, and her hands came up instinctively to thread into his hair. “It is a promise.”
And then finally, his mouth captured hers.
The kiss began softly, almost reverently, until Iris pressed herself closer against him, her hands tightening in her hair. Something seemed to break in Jasvian then, a final barrier of restraint falling away as the kiss deepened and intensified. One hand slid up her back to cradle her head while the other arm wrapped more firmly around her waist, holding her against him as though he feared she might disappear.
Iris met his passion with her own, years of imposed propriety dissolving beneath the heat of their shared desire. A dizzying wave crashed over her, unlike anything she had ever known. Relief so profound it bordered on pain, joy so bright it felt like weeping, and beneath it all, a fierce, aching need that resonated in every nerve ending. This was what she hadn’t known she was missing, this connection, this dizzying, terrifying rightness. Heat bloomed low within her, spreading through her limbs like wildfire as his lips moved against hers with a hunger that she answered without hesitation.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed, Jasvian rested his forehead against hers. “I had not intended to be quite so … enthusiastic,” he admitted, his voice rough.
“I find I have no complaints,” Iris replied, a smile curving her lips. “Though perhaps we might continue this conversation somewhere less exposed to potential gossip birds?”
Jasvian laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained in a way she had rarely heard from him. “I care remarkably little for what anyone—gossip bird, fae or human—might say, so long as you agree to one condition.”
“And what condition might that be?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Marry me.”
The simple words, spoken without preamble or elaborate speech, stole the breath from her lungs. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated, his expression entirely serious now. “Be my wife. Allow me to be tremendously, embarrassingly devoted to you for the remainder of our days.”
“Are—are you certain?” Iris said, sudden insecurity washing over her. “I—my family has nothing to offer. The Starspun name is tarnished, and the scandal itself has barely passed?—”
“Someone accused me recently of hoarding lumyrite-derived wealth, so I suspect that particular hoard will suffice quite comfortably for us both.”
A bright peal of laughter burst from Iris’s lips at that.
“And as for scandals,” he added, “surely they prevent life from becoming too dull?”
She shook her head, though a smile tugged irresistibly at her lips. “And the tea house,” she said firmly. “I do not want to manage it from afar. I wish to be here .”
“I can imagine you nowhere else,” he said, his gaze fixed on hers, “as long as you consent to share your study with me.”
A profound joy, deeper than any she had ever known, spread through her. “Then yes,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you, though I warn you that when I promised to argue with you always, I meant it.”
“I would have it no other way,” he murmured, before lowering his lips to hers once more.
As they stood entwined in the early morning light, Iris felt the countless possibilities of their future unfold around them—not as something tenuous or insubstantial, but as a certainty. Whatever paths lay ahead, they would walk them together, their lives now folded into one shared future.