“Shall we sit here?” he said casually as if he hadn’t spent a goodly portion of his morning organizing this intentional accompaniment to the beach. There on the sand lay a blanket with a wicker basket full of food and drinks.
“Is this why you came to Kisswick?” He nodded to the sea. “To paint this?”
“Yes. Initially Violet and I came here for that reason. But then Damien told us about Greene House and the sisterhood of support that Mirabelle was creating, and we knew it was fate that we were supposed to be here. We immediately went to her house to see if she had room for us. I do hope she won’t be too disappointed that I’m not staying long.” She fidgeted by twisting a small strand of her hand. “Oh dear, even Lucy won’t be staying long. I pray this isn’t becoming a pattern for Mirabelle, the poor dear.”
“I’m sure she would want you to follow your heart.”
“Yes. Instinctively Violet and I could both tell that she has a lovely soul. She would most certainly not deny us love. Though she’s a spinster, she was pivotal in her cousins finding their true love matches. She would no more dissuade a woman from love than she would deny a thirsty woman tea. She’s quite something…though I do get the idea that she’s heavily invested—emotionally and financially—in Greene House.”
“We must do what we can to help her then.”
“Of course,” she smiled up at him adoringly. Everything he did and said only made her love him more.
The waves lapped at the shore a few meters away after they had lowered themselves to the blanket. He pulled out some cheeses, cold meats, and wine. Tristan held up two glasses which she took from him, enabling him to pour.
“Do you remember that picnic Violet arranged for us one summer where she forgot the glassware?” Iris asked with a chuckle while still holding the glasses steady. “Alex was sodisappointed that he didn’t have anything to drink, since he refused to share the bottle we were all using. He can be so particular.”
Tristan gave her a bit of an odd look and opened his mouth to say something, but seeming to rethink the comment—or the moment—he snapped it shut instead.
“We’ve shared so many fond memories together, my love. I can’t wait to create so many more. “To you,” he raised his glass to the sun soaked sky, “For all the love and friendship that’s been building between us. To your beauty. Your radiance. Your gracefulness. Your patience. Your heart. You are the love of my life. You always have been.”
He clinked his glass to hers, took a sip, and leaned forward to kiss her lips.
And the glasses were forgotten. Laid down in the sand, he took her face in his hands and she opened to let him deepen the kiss. No one was around, or not that she noticed anyway. She wanted to feel the heat that only happened in his presence. With his body around hers. So she gave in until his body was hovering over hers. The heat was pure delight, and she wanted to so much more. It felt like fire—
“Ah!” Mid kiss, she shrieked in laughter. Cold water dashed against her feet. How long had they been kissing that the tide had caught up to them?
“Quick!” Tristan shouted as he scrambled to his feet, helping her do the same. “The water is out to get us.” He snatched the blanket, thrusting it in her hands, while he swiped the basket off the sand. Then, hand in hand, he pulled her further back up the sand, closer to the large rocks.
“Thank goodness I’m not one to believe in signs,” she laughed in a huff as she plopped herself down on one of the boulders.
“Signs of what?”
“Our first real outing together and we nearly get washed away by the sea?” she teased back. “Thankfully, I believe our love is genuine and strong.”
“Ah, my love. It is the strongest. There’s nothing that can wash away our love.” And then he snagged her off the rock and pulled her onto his lap to resume the kissing from earlier.
And she was certainly not going to deny the man a kiss. This was the man she loved. The man she had a past with. The only man she could see a future with. For far too many years she had denied herself to feel. To let go. To express. So many crossed paths that didn’t quite meet where they should have over the years. But perhaps those crossed paths had been perfectly laid. Perhaps they had led to everything happening just the way it was supposed to. She was here now, in Kisswick, the perfect town. She was pursuing her dream to paint. And in following her heart, it had led her—back and also for the first time—to Tristan.
Though…she may have done well to pay heed to the warning of the waves.
Chapter 8
“Would you like more tea—”
“Tristan,” a voice boomed from the door of the tea shop, effectively cutting him off. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Lester. What was he still doing here? Tristan had thought the man had left after the ball, but it seemed as though he was still in town.
Noisily, Lester dragged a chair to the table he was sharing with Iris. After the sea had caught up to them, they were finding warmth in The Velvet Box.
“I need to discuss some business with you.”
Tristan could feel a bead of sweat drop down his back. Beyond the fact that he was trying to court Iris at this very moment, there were other reasons that Tristan did not want to discuss business with Lester—in particular—in front of Iris—also, in particular. “Now really isn’t the time—”
“It’s always the time to get things done, my good man.”
“I think—”