His fingers catch the buttons of his white shirt, and he begins to unfasten them one by one. I’m about to ask what he is doing when I notice the intricate tattoo curving across his tanned shoulder.
Moonflowers climb on vines, silently claiming his skin. My throat locks up as I take a hesitant step closer. There, on his chest, is a name.Myname. As if he’d branded himself for me. I can’t help but trace the delicate letters. Senan’s hand folds over mine. His heart beats strong and steady beneath my palm. “Do you believe me now?”
“I believe you now.”
Senan’s free hand skims along my jaw, applying the slightest pressure, until I’m no longer studying his tattoos but his face.
He isn’t yours.
I give myself a mental shake, somehow managing to look away. Behind him, a basket sits on a plaid blanket stretched between two bushes. “Is that a picnic?”
He glances over his shoulder, his brow furrowing, as if he hadn’t remembered the picnic at all. “Perhaps.”
“But you hate picnics.” I remember him ranting about having to go on one with his brothers back when we were first together. Went on and on about it for hours.
“I only hated picnics because none of them were with you.”
Still as charming as ever. Silver-eyed and silver-tongued. A threat to any woman’s willpower. “And by a burbling brook, no less. For a man who is scared of fish, you certainly are pulling out all the stops.”
Although he grimaces at the water, he holds up a finger and says, “I am not scared of fish. They simply disgust me.”
What a liar. He’d told me he used to hate baths as a child because he was afraid a fish would get into the tub and “nibble his bits.” His words, not mine.
I kneel on the bank and dip my fingers into the cool water.
“What are you doing?” He drops down next to me at the same time a small goldfish darts from beneath a lily pad.
“I am catching a fish to prove my point.”
“Come now. You don’t want to get slime all over your fingers, do you?” He inches closer, peering into the stream. A little closer. A little closer…
I catch a handful of water and throw it in his face. The sound he makes is somewhere between a yelp and a squeal, although it’s difficult to hear him over my own laughter. The righteous indignation on his face as he swipes a hand to clear the drops clinging to his chin only makes me laugh harder.
“Not scared of fish, my arse,” I manage between gasps. Stars, my sides are starting to hurt.
His teeth gleam when his lips curve into a mischievous grin. “You will pay for that.”
“Save your idle threats, sire,” I tease. Drying my hands on my skirts, I push to my feet and start for that picnic basket.
Senan leaps in front of me and snags the basket, clutching the thing protectively against his chest. “Ah, ah. No food for you. I do not dine with monsters.” Still holding the basket, he sits cross-legged on the blanket.
“But I’m hungry.” I ease down next to him, giving my most pleading look. The food in the canteen tasted like chalk. I want what he brought.
“You should’ve thought of that before you covered me in fish urine.”
“It’s clean water.”
Senan arches a dark brow. “So you’re telling me they defecate elsewhere?”
He does have a point. Not that I will ever admit it. I clasp my hands beneath my chin, prepared to beg for one of the plump strawberries in the bowl he withdraws from the basket. “Please, Senan.”
A bowl of grapes still on the vine, a wheel of orange cheese, and crusty bread follows. “First, you must apologize for acting like a heathen. And then you must tell me how fearless I am.”
“I am dreadfully sorry. And you are so fearless—and so strong as well. You could fight a hundred goldfish and come out the victor.”
“That is much better.” His lips twitch as he pours two glasses of wine and hands the first to me. “It’s a good thing you apologized. I would’ve hated to keep you from having some of this.” He withdraws a silver tray with what looks like?—
“Is that cheesecake?”