I gestured to the large woven basket Zuhra had left waiting for us just outside the stable doors. "I thought we might have a picnic. Just the two of us."
The confusion melted from her face, replaced by something that made my breath catch—a dawning delight that lit her features from within. "A picnic? You planned a picnic?"
"Is that... acceptable?" The words came out hesitant. Human courtship rituals still mystified me at times, despite Jordan's patient explanations. We'd shared picnics before, but tonight felt different. Tonight had to be different.
"It's more than acceptable." Her voice went soft, intimate. "It's perfect."
Relief flooded through me as I retrieved the basket and led her into the stables, where my Friesian stallion waited. Drakkar nickered a greeting, his massive black head swinging toward us, dark eyes gleaming with intelligence. He was as steady as the mountains themselves—which mattered, given what I had planned.
"We're riding?" Jordan watched me saddle Drakkar, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips as I remembered our first ride. She'd been nervous at first, but by the end she'd been laughing, her fingers tangled in Drakkar's mane, completely comfortable riding with me.
I wanted to give her that feeling again. And perhaps something more.
"The place I want to take you requires a bit of a journey," I explained, deliberately vague as I secured the basket on the saddle. "This will be faster. And more comfortable."
Once everything was ready, I led Drakkar into the fading light. Jordan moved toward the mounting block, but I caught her arm gently.
"Let me."
Before she could protest, I placed my hands on her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the saddle. She gasped, steadying herself against the pommel. I swung up behind her in one fluid motion, then carefully drew her back against my chest.
"Oh," she breathed as I adjusted her position, arranging her so she sat sideways across my lap, her legs draped over one side of the horse, her back cradled by my arm.
"Comfortable?" I asked, though I was already wrapping one arm securely around her waist while gathering the reins with the other.
"Very," she murmured, and I felt her melt against me, her head finding the natural hollow of my shoulder as if the space had been carved specifically for her.
She fit perfectly. The realization struck me with the force of a revelation, even though I'd thought it countless times during our time together. But this—the way her smaller frame tucked against mine, how absolutely right it felt to hold her this way—it was perfection. I urged Drakkar forward with a gentle pressure of my legs, and the stallion moved into an easy, rolling gait.
Jordan's hand came to rest on my chest, just over my heart, and I wondered if she could feel how it raced at her touch. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and earth, but all I could focus on was her—the floral scent of whatever she'd washed her hair with, the soft rhythm of her breathing, the complete trust in how she'd relaxed against me.
"I could get used to traveling like this," she murmured, and I felt her smile against my shoulder.
"Then we'll have to do it more often," I replied, tightening my arm around her slightly, allowing myself this moment of simple contentment before we reached our destination and I asked her the question that could change everything.
We rode in comfortable silence as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Thefamiliar path wound through the mountains, and I felt Jordan shift slightly in my arms as we passed a distinctive outcropping of rock.
"Wait," she said, her voice carrying a note of recognition. "This is... are we going to the waterfall?"
I felt a smile tug at my lips. "Yes."
She turned her head to look up at me, her eyes searching my face. Even in the fading light, I saw the memory reflected there—that day months ago when everything changed between us.
"Our waterfall," she said softly, and the possessiveness in her voice made something warm unfurl in my chest.
"Our waterfall," I confirmed.
Jordan settled back against me, but I felt a subtle shift in her energy, a heightened awareness. "I remember that night," she said after a moment. "Our first kiss."
My arm tightened around her reflexively. "I thought it might be our first and last."
The words came out rough, carrying the memory of that fear I'd held. That Jordan would leave and that one perfect moment would be all I'd ever have of her.
"So did I," Jordan admitted quietly. Her hand pressed more firmly against my chest. "I was terrified. Of what I was feeling, of what it meant, of how impossible it all seemed." She paused, and I felt her take a deep breath. "I'm so glad I was wrong."
"As am I," I said, the words inadequate for the relief, the joy, the sheer gratitude I felt that she'd chosen to stay, to be my mate.