The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(13)

Oh, right.

“Nice to meet you, too, Gerard.” She blinked up at him as a huge grin split his wide face. He brought her fingers up to his lips.

His mouth brushed the back of her hand, soft as silk. Her head spun. Electricity buzzed along her arm to her chest, and the warm pewter ring shivered along her skin as she curtsied, unsure how to react to his touch.

Both formal and intimate.

“Let’s find you a new pumpkin.” He led her deep into the ever-widening patch. The burred vines rubbed at her hem like a cat in heat. She rucked her dress up a few inches to protect the fabric. Her brown leather boots, tied and buttoned, stopped above her ankle. A slice of cool air met her bare calf.

Gerard cleared his throat. She turned to catch him staring at the evening sky—counting?

She perused the patch and found a deep orange pumpkin. “Perfect.” She skipped down the gap in vines and sidestepped the gourd. She reached to slice it free with the small dagger from her belt.

Her cloak gaped open and a chilly breeze tunneled between her breasts. The dress she wore was low-cut, and the wool parted in the exact spot her cleavage pressed against the neckline of her gown. She glanced up to find Gerard’s gaze riveted. Frozen. Hot.

She cleared her throat. He did not look away. She stood and coughed into her hand. His eyes followed her chest on the way up and blinked at her loud sound.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He strode forward and hefted the pumpkin with one hand.

“Thank you.”

His eyes darted back to her exposed chest. She gripped the edges of her cloak, intent on hiding her skin from view.

“That’s a beautiful necklace.” His gaze, more green than hazel in the light of the setting sun, traveled up to her eyes. Gerard appeared unapologetic to be caught staring at such an intimate place.

She grasped the pewter ring, the metal hot in her palm. Letting go, she glanced down, surprised.

A shimmering half-moon of opalescence winked from inside the pewter ring.

“It looks like the second phase of the waxing moon. Where did you get it?” Gerard reached out a hand and rimmed the edge of the pendant resting on her chest.

She bit her lip. A drenched yearning joined the insistent ache between her legs.

“I-I…uh.” Form words, Ellie. “It was my mother’s, I think. I found it with her effects.”

“Hmm.” His calloused fingers continued to rest a breath away from her bosom. Her breasts tingled in awareness and rasped against the fabric of her dress.

He moved from the necklace and traced the edge of her collarbone. She didn’t breathe, afraid he’d drop his hand. Sever the blissful contact. Her skin hummed. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Let’s get you and your pumpkin where you need to be.”

She opened her eyes as Gerard backed away.

Her mood deflated and disappointment slithered in her belly. Then, she got mad that she was disappointed. “Sure.”

The walk back was quieter than the first. The rain had stopped altogether, leaving the ripe scent of wet earth and damp leaves. Gerard carried the pumpkin, and she gripped her cloak tightly until they reached the white stone steps.

He gently placed the gourd in her outstretched arms. “Let’s not drop this one, okay?”

She nodded and backed away from him. He gave her a short bow before turning and disappearing into the dark forest, back in the direction they’d come from. She fled from the guard’s strange looks and panted from the weight of the pumpkin by the time she reached the Tea Emporium.

The door swung open wide before she tried to knock. Meera stood there, regal in a rose headscarf and matching dress.

“I do believe we’re closed,” she said with a wink.

Ellie smiled, knowing full well Meera was teasing. “I brought you a gift though.” She hefted the pumpkin onto the counter. Meera tapped the gourd and grinned at the hollow sound.

“I will have to whip up a fresh batch of cookies for tomorrow. Take the tea tray into the back.” Meera busied herself rolling the pumpkin along the counter, closer to the kitchen.

Once she set the mud-caked cloak on the hook by the front door, Ellie scraped off her boots on the threshold.

She grasped the tea tray, liking the look of the red berry scones covered with crystallized sugar. The heady scent of lemon balm wafted up from the teakettle. She sauntered into the back room and met Rachel and Rufus behind the plum curtain.

“I’ve news, not good stuff, either.” Ellie sighed.

“What’s the matter, Ellie?” Rachel asked.

“Best wait for Meera or we’ll never hear the end of it,” Rufus advised and snuck a scone from the tray.

Ellie nodded and added a spoonful of honey to her tea. She sipped the hot brew. Tangy sweetness coated her mouth and warmed her chest.

“Here I am, dearies.” Meera sat at her wingback chair before the fire and picked up her knitting needles. The wooden sticks clicked and clacked as she wove the creamy wool together.

Ellie sauntered over to the small couch and sat. Rachel and Rufus took stools and perched across from her.

“Dame Lange, founder of MAM, will be staying at my home in three days’ time, two days after the Homecoming reception.” Ellie toyed with the china teacup as everyone spoke at once.

Meera whistled, the room fell quiet. “What do you plan on doing?”