Page 18 of Under Gorse and Stone

He seems to freeze for a second and then chuckles. “I have a vivid imagination. I would certainly have been overexcited by sugar. My mother used to make this for me.”

“Does she still live in Norway?”

“No. She died many years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sets the plate down in front of me and then opens the fridge, producing a bowl of cream. He hands it to me. It’s creamy-gold and thick, and I spoon it onto the warm pastry.

“There is no need to be sorry. I have naught but good memories, and we will meet again in the Sunlit Lands.” When I look up, he’s smiling at me. “Nothing is ever gone forever.”

“That sounds rather lovely, although I do hope it doesn’t stand for parking tickets.”

“Life is always about adventures, but even I draw the line at those.”

“Well, my adventure consisted of college, uni, and then a research job. I don’t speak another language like you, and I’ve never lived in another country. Pretty boring when you think of it.” I take a mouthful, and the pastry melts on my tongue. “God, this is lovely,” I say thickly through my mouthful.

He chuckles. “I am glad you like it.” He refills my glass, his arm brushing against mine, and I wonder if he wants me as much as I want him.

Sexual parity has never bothered me before, as long as both parties got off, but with him, I’d love to know he’s as desperate as I’m starting to feel about him.

I glance up to see he’s watching me intently. “I do,” he says softly.

“What?”

His eyebrow arches. “I do want you as much as you want me. I merely answered your question.”

“I didn’t ask one. I just thought it.”

He shrugs. “Your face is very expressive.”

“Said no one ever.”

“Maybe they don’t see you as I do.”

I open my mouth to scoff, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the earnest look on his face. Perhaps it’s the sense of some odd connection I feel here. It’s like a ribbon that’s pulling me towards him—a little tug on my senses telling me that this man is different. I push the silly thought away and he watches me, his eyes knowing and dark. Then they begin to twinkle, and he gives me a very wicked smile, his full lips touched with sugar.

“Ah, Cary. The offer will remain, even if you change your mind.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d even made up my mind in the first place.”

“Didn’t you? Silly me,” he says innocently.

I consider him for a second. Wildness dances along my veins, and when he moves and his arm brushes mine, I press back.

He sucks in a breath, his eyes flaring hot and a muscle ticking in his cheek.

I stand and pick up our dessert plates and take them to the sink. “I’ll wash up.”

“Nay. You are my guest.” He gets to his feet and tries to take a plate from me.

I pull back, and the plate falls, smashing on the floor.

“Oh mygod. I’m so sorry,” I say, bending to pick up the shards.

“Leave it,” he says, his tone guttural.

“Sigurd?” I look up.