by Caroline Lee
No, this was reverence.
Finally, her hair was out of its confines, spread around her statue-still face like a cinnamon cloud. He still didn’t understand why it was so important to him that she look like this—look at ease—when he kissed her. Only that he knew he wanted his kiss to be different from the others’. He wanted—needed—it to be special. To be the one that saved her.
Gordon took a deep breath, and brushed his thumb once more across her lips. He’d waited months to taste her, and now he would.
There was no way of knowing if her father was watching; not without turning. But he didn’t want to draw attention to his actions, so Gordon kept his back to the door when he lifted the packet from his pocket and spread it across his knees. There, he unfolded his handkerchief to reveal a small pad of cotton, still damp from the antidote Doc had poured on it. The old woman had said that it was possible to just pour the liquid down Briar’s throat, but if there was a chance that anyone was watching, he should administer it by kiss, for “narrative casualty.” Whatever that meant. So he lifted the pad to his mouth, trying to make his movements as nonchalantly as possible, and wiped it across his lips.
There was no more sensation than if he’d licked his lips; no stinging, no burning, nothing medicinal. In fact, the liquid had a vague minty flavor. Gordon, careful to keep from smudging the antidote, felt his lips curl into a smile. At least their first kiss would taste good.
Finally, he couldn’t delay any longer. He dropped the cotton pad back into his handkerchief, rewrapped it, and shoved it back into the same pocket he’d placed it in after Doc had warned him to be careful.
Taking a deep, minty breath, Gordon rolled his neck and prepared himself. Placing one large hand on either side of her shoulders, he leaned his lips toward hers.
Again and again, Briar set the cake down on the tablecloth. Again and again he turned and looked up at her, his expression filled with gratitude and love. Again and again she looked into his perfect amber-brown eyes and saw her own future shining back. Again and again, his smile made a fountain of contentment swell inside her.
Briar wasn’t sure how many times she’d relived the moment of that yet-to-be-realized birthday dinner. Part of her knew it wasn’t real—was she dreaming?—but it didn’t matter. She could happily lie here forever and watch his eyes light up with love.
Vaguely, she remembered someone holding her hand as she drifted away, reminding her that everything would be fine, and he would come to save her. Vaguely, she recalled a sense of desperation, and worry. Vaguely, she recollected a sharp pain in her hand and numbness creeping through her body.
But none of those vague memories mattered anymore, now that she was here, reliving her perfect moment again and again.
She glanced down at the caramel cake, and once again felt pride at its flawlessness. This time, though, when she set the platter down on the white tablecloth, she could see the other diners. Her brothers, laughing with Gordon, respect and admiration on their expression. Her parents, looking happy and content, and even Nana Rose, beaming proudly at the woman Briar had become. The difference in this vision from her previous ones rocked Briar slightly. Was this true still? Was this a future, or the future? Nana Rose had never looked at her the way the old woman was looking at her now.
Panicky, unsure, Briar turned back to him, but her movements felt like she was stranded in cake batter, slow and thick. Gordon was standing now, and she felt the worry climbing up her throat and trying to escape through her mouth. Why was this different than before? Why wasn’t he smiling? Why this look of intensity?
Briar tried to ask, but no sound came out, and Gordon just reached for her. Reached for her, when before he’d only looked at her like she was his entire life. Now he was…different. He reached for her and took her hand in his and pulled, and then they were standing together, his hands on her shoulders, and his fingers trailing small designs of pure heat across her skin. Where did her gown go? Why could she feel every single bit of him pressed against every single bit of her?
That’s when she knew that this was a dream. Had known, maybe, before, but was sure now. How could she feel him so perfectly, if she was really standing in a possible dining room with her family watching? No, this had to be a dream…
But he was looking at her in a way that made it not matter. His lips parted slightly, and his amber eyes slowly lowered to her mouth. She found herself stretching toward him, aching for something that she just couldn’t define, missing something vital.
When his lips touched hers, she found that missing piece. Him. He wrapped around and through and behind and on top of her and became part of her being. He kissed her the way he’d touched her lower lip, all those weeks ago at Zelle’s wedding. Like he would cherish her forever; like she was flawless and wonderful and full of everything he wanted in a woman.
Briar closed her eyes, unable to stand the overload of emotions. Her first kiss! Her first kiss from Gordon—finally! It was everything she’d dreamed it would be, everything her months of waiting had promised.
Dreamed it would be.
Oh heavens, was this still a dream? Was she still trapped in the same birthday dinner, the one that she had thought was so incredible just a moment before? But now! Now that she’d kissed him, now that she knew he tasted of mint and rosemary and everything good in the kitchen, now she wanted nothing more than to—
“Briar.”
He hadn’t spoken to her before. There’d been no sound, only a sort of whooshing that could be wind or her own pulse. But now, she heard him. “Briar, open your eyes.”
So she did.
Gordon’s beautiful eyes stared down at hers, and she watched them change, concern melting into relief melting into joy. The corner of his lips pulled up in his little wry half-smile, the one she’d never been able to picture perfectly in her dream. That’s how she knew that this smile, this moment was different.
Her arm felt heavy, like under-baked bread when she lifted her hand to touch his cheek. “Gordon? Are you real?”
That’s when his lips pulled into a full smile, revealing his two broken teeth, and she knew. Her mind couldn’t have conjured something as imperfectly perfect as him, smiling down at her.
“Aye, Briar. I’m real.” His voice was gruff, like he hadn’t used it in a while.
From a distance she heard her father say, “Oh, thank God!” and then the clatter of someone running down the stairs to the lower floors.
“And you’re here with me?”
“My love, I’ll never again leave ye.”
She had to smile then, at the sincerity behind that promise. How could she ask him to leave her, when she never wanted to be out of his arms? “So it worked?” Her memories were returning: Doc explaining the plan, the sting of the medicine as it entered her blood, concentrating on the image of Gordon sitting at that birthday dinner as the darkness closed around her. “You saved me.”
It wasn’t a question, but his eyes went soft as he answered. “Aye. She told me what t’ do.”
“Thank you.” It seemed stupid, but it needed to be said.
“Briar, I—” Gordon’s voice broke, and he moved away from her a bit, glancing once at the empty doorway. It wasn’t until she felt his hands slide off her shoulders and down her arms to grasp her cold hands that she realized she was still lying in her bed, wearing that ridiculous gown, and he was sitting over her. “Briar, my own heart stopped when I heard what had happened. An’ then, t’ find out that it was just a scheme? I’ve never felt so relieved an’ so angry all at once.” He rubbed her hands between his and Briar felt the tingles of blood returning to her fingers. Had she really been that deeply asleep? “I wanted to charge through those people, an’ that stupid rosebush, an’ yer family. I wanted t’ make it better, but I had no idea how.”
“But you did.” Briar tried to lift her head, but winced slightly at the tightness in her neck and shoulders. “You saved me, thanks to Doc.”
“An’ what might’ve hap
pened if I hadn’t been there? Or if ye were wrong about me? What if I couldn’t be the one t’ save ye, and ye’d put all yer trust in that woman?”
He turned away then, dropping her hands and running his own across his head, tugging at the top-knot she’d always thought was so sexy. “Briar, ye could’ve been… God.” He shuddered. “Ye weren’t moving, love. Ye were barely breathing, an’ cold as a statue. It wasn’t ye, an’ ye could’ve been like that forever.”
“No.” He was angry, and that wasn’t how it was supposed to be, not at all. Just like in the stories, she was supposed to fall into his arms and he was supposed to swear to protect and love her forever. None of them included the hero being angry.
Briar struggled to raise herself on her elbows. “No, Gordon, that’s not true. You saved me. I knew you would save me. I trusted you. That’s what this was all about—I trusted you.”
“Maybe ye shouldn’t have.” He made a little noise of frustration, but didn’t look her way. “Maybe it was too big a risk, Briar.”
From where she lay, she could see his hands shaking. Gordon—big, strong, and full of smiles—was scared. The realization was funny and terrifying all at once, and Briar needed—a deep, visceral need—to make it better. She pushed herself upright, and reached for his closer hand. This time, she was the one who rubbed his hand, trying to show him that everything was okay, and would be fine now.
It took her a minute to find the words. “Gordon, I’m so sorry I scared you. To me, it was barely a risk at all. I knew that you would be here for me, because…” She took a deep breath. “Because I care about you. And I knew that you cared about me. And I knew that if you didn’t care enough about me to come and save me, and earn my family’s blessing, well then…” She swallowed. “Then I wouldn’t mind just sleeping forever, after all.”
That got his attention. The expression on his face when he turned was a mixture of horror and wonder, and she nodded to let him know she was serious. “If I couldn’t have a future with you, Gordon, I don’t think I’d want—”
“Don’t say it, Briar.” Suddenly, he was the one gripping her fingers, tight enough that she was afraid letting go meant losing each other. “Don’t say that would be better…”
“But don’t you see?” She held his eyes, and smiled. “It has to be. This is my story, Gordon, and I love you. I can’t live without you.”
Gordon groaned, and dropped his chin, lifting her hands to his lips. A kiss on one set of knuckles, then the other, and then he pressed her still-clasped hands to his forehead. She couldn’t see his expression, with his shoulders so low, but she felt the warmth of his skin, and heard him groan again. “God, Briar, are ye sure? The risk you took…”
What was he saying? She’d just declared her love for him, hadn’t she? “Of course I’m sure. I love you, Gordon MacKinnon.” She tugged on his hands slightly, in an effort to make him look back up at her again. “I knew you would save me, because you—”
But she didn’t have a chance to confirm his feelings, because at that moment, the door to her bedroom burst open.
CHAPTER TEN
Gordon didn’t understand what Briar was trying to say. Her expression had gone all panicky, and he didn’t know what that meant. He supposed it was only fair; whenever he thought about what she’d done to herself, the way she’d gambled everything on him…he went all panicky inside too. What if he hadn’t been able to get here in time? What if the antidote hadn’t worked? There were so many what-ifs.
But now wasn’t the time to indulge in them. He needed to comfort her, to assure her that everything would be alright, and whatever she was worried about, he’d take care of that too. Gordon had opened his mouth to do just that, when a strident voice startled him.
“Oh, my dear Briar! You’re awake!”
He whipped around on the bed to see her entire family pouring into the room, with her grandmother in the lead. Gordon’s soon-to-be father-in-law must’ve run downstairs to alert them all after he’d left his post by the door. The old woman was already sweeping across the room, her arms held open like some kind of welcoming angel. The image churned Gordon’s gut. This woman had made life difficult for Briar—especially over the last week—and needed to be told so.
Not thinking how it might look, Gordon stood, and put himself between Nana Rose and Briar, who still looked so innocent and helpless lying in that white gown on her bed. His intention had been to protect her from her own family, and he’d spend some time thinking about that later, he supposed.
Nana Rose didn’t quite skid to a stop, but it was close. Her arms snapped back in and she glared up at Gordon. He didn’t think she was angry so much at his protecting Briar, but at his ruining her grand entrance. “Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”
“Briar’s in no condition fer yer theatrics, Mrs. Swenssen. She needs her rest, after the ordeal you put her through over the last week.”
The woman’s affronted gasp could’ve cut glass, and Gordon swore that Bram and Brack rolled their eyes in unison from their places by the door. “Ordeal? Me? And just who do you think you are, to speak to me that way?”
Gordon pulled himself up straighter, and flicked a glance over at Briar’s father. Then he pierced Nana Rose with a glare to match the one she was giving him. “I’m the man that’s going t’ marry yer granddaughter.”
The noise that came from the bed wasn’t really a gasp, but he wondered about it all the same. And when he could trust her grandmother not to do anything ridiculous, he’d turn and ask Briar formally. But for now, he had to establish his claim and her family’s permission.
“How dare you speak to me that way, young man! I remember you, sniffing around here last week. You’re a common laborer!”
“Aye, I was.” He wouldn’t be, not as soon as his restaurant was finished. “But I’m the man who woke Briar from her sleep, and you heard what Doc Carpenter said.”
“Preposterous! True love? What does a girl her age know about true love?”
Another noise from behind him on the bed, and Gordon wondered if she was about to defend herself. But she didn’t need to…and neither did he, because her father stepped forward then, with her mother right behind him.
“He has our blessing to court our daughter, Nana Rose. We made that clear. The decision is up to her, but he has proven himself—”
The older woman whirled around and pointed an elegant finger at her son-in-law. “You’re going to let him court her? He was working in your fields last month!”
But the older man just shrugged, as he met Gordon’s eyes. “Then we know he’s a good worker, if nothing else. If she chooses him, we’ll have an extra set of hands if they’re needed.”
Gordon fully intended to be busy with his restaurant by the next harvest season, but he liked the idea of having in-laws he could depend on, and who depended on him. If this turned out well, maybe it would mean having family besides Vincenzo to spend time with—weekly dinners, holidays, birthdays…
So he met his soon-to-be-father-in-law’s gaze, and nodded once, firmly. The older man smiled and Gordon returned it.
Nana Rose didn’t like the exchange, however. She threw up her hands with an unladylike curse, and turned back to Gordon. “Briar Rose is worthy of much more than you can offer!”
“Nana Rose—”
He didn’t want Briar to have to defend him, so he shifted sideways to block her view of her grandmother, and stood even taller. “I know that, ma’am. I know I’m not going t’ live up t’ what ye want fer her. But I’ve got something I can offer her that no one else can.”
“What’s that?” The old woman scoffed. “Hard work?”
“Aye, but also my heart.” A gasp from behind him told him that Briar understood, and he closed his eyes briefly on a prayer. “I love her, and I’m willing t’ work my fingers t’ the bone fer her.” When he opened his eyes, Nana Rose was looking at him in an entirely different, speculative way, her head cocked to one side. “When I heard wh
at had happened t’ her, when I came in here an’ saw her lookin’ the way she did, well…” Gordon swallowed, and tried to keep his voice from cracking. “I don’t have t’ tell ye how that felt.”
“Yes, you do, young man.” The old woman wasn’t play-acting this time; there was no affront or histrionics in her manner or gaze. Now, she just looked like a very concerned grandmother.
For the first time since Briar’s family had entered the room, Gordon let his shoulders slump, and he resisted the urge to tug at his hair. “I—”
“No.” Nana Rose cut him off with a subtle headshake. “No, you’re right. I’m not the one you need to tell how you feel.” She waved her hand behind him, and Gordon took a deep breath.
When he turned back to Briar, she was already trying to swing her legs off the small bed. The beautiful nightgown was hampering her progress, but he understood. With one easy movement, he slipped an arm under her knees, another behind her back, and lifted her into the air. She gasped, but didn’t have time to do more than grab the lapels of the vest he’d worn for church that morning.
Upright, her body held close to him, Gordon realized that he never wanted to let her go. Never wanted to be without her again. She was as soft as the petals of the rose he’d placed beside her bed, but strong enough to flourish despite the thorns. His special, beautiful Briar Rose.
He dropped his forehead to hers, partially as an excuse to touch her, and partially because he couldn’t look into those gorgeous blue-gray eyes without losing a part of himself. He needed to say this with a clear head.
Inhale. Exhale. “Briar… when I came in here today, an’ saw you lyin’ so still… my heart stopped, love. I can’t remember ever being so scared, an’ that includes all my years growin’ up in Edinburgh.” He swallowed. “I love ye, Briar. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”