He stared at her as if she’d started reciting nursery rhymes. “Are you into that herbal hocus-pocus? Grass tea, drives in the country marred by stopping every few feet to gather weeds from the ditch to use in flavoring the stew?”
“So this modern man is afraid of the herbal knowledge of the ages.” Abigail smiled. The tower was behind her now and she faced him unfettered and free. “You sound as though you speak from bitter experience.”
He gave a short laugh. “Pam. A woman who grew green sprouts in a window box and insisted on smothering a good steak with parsley. She tried to convert me, even took out a bunch of library books and brought them over to my apartment so that together we could ‘explore the secrets of Mother Nature.’ Most boring evening of my life.”
“And when you’re bored, you doodle snowmen.” Abigail chuckled and tapped his finger with the leaf again. “Maybe the second time’s the charm.”
His lips twisted in a wry grin. “I think you discharged yourself from the hospital too soon, Red. Remember, you took quite a blow to the temple. What are you doing with that leaf, cursing me?”
He called her Red! She breathed a sigh of thanksgiving. But now that the barriers seemed to be lowering, Abigail found herself suddenly shy and drew away a few steps, pretending to study the drops of water still glistening on the rubbery plant. The electricity in the approaching storm had charged the atmosphere inside the conservatory as well.
“According to superstition, tapping a sprig of rosemary against the finger of the one you love insures capturing his affection.”
His voice was harsh. “Love, Red? You didn’t even trust me enough to call me when your life was threatened by that madman!”
She picked up a clod of dirt and crumbled it between her fingers without turning around. Anger flared—now who was demanding proof before giving? “I trusted you enough to come back for you, knowing that I could be blown up, that Julia wanted to kill me because she thought I was Rosemary. I still have the scabs on my back where she poked me with her knife but I didn’t think about the blade—I ran down those stairs like a madwoman so you wouldn’t have to face danger alone. A person doesn’t risk death just for someone she trusts, but for someone she lo—”
She broke off, startled by the passion in her voice. Her heart thudded against her ribs; she’d never wanted anything or anyone so much in her life before. A new world was unfolding, one with bright edges and emotional highs, a world where she went after and captured the desires of her heart.
Eyes blazing, she turned on the man standing beside her. “How can you stand there like a stone-souled statue and not say a word when I’m trying to tell you that I love—”
“Red!” Her name was a bugle call on his lips, a clear musical note of joy as his hands reached out to touch the hairpins securing her hair. She quivered as the last one was removed and the fiery mass tumbled about her shoulders.
“You are so beautiful, Red.”
He gripped her shoulders gently, but not trusting herself to meet his eyes, she stared fixedly at his third shirt button.
“Say it aloud, Red.” His voice shook.
Her heart raced as she wet her lips. “I love you.” She drew a trembling breath, knowing with those words she’d conquered that swaying suspension bridge and crossed over into paradise.
A tender hand smoothed back a wayward strand of hair and lingered to cup her chin as their eyes locked. “Say it again, Red.”
“I love you, Ross.” She gripped his wrists, gazing into emerald pools, pools deep enough to drown in.
Abigail reached up to trace the curve of his lips, to reassure herself that this was no cold marble creation from the chisel of Michelangelo—this was a flesh-and-blood man.
Happiness buoyed her voice as she whispered, “We’ll open that clinic together, Ross. But I must warn you that my terms include a lifetime partnership with access to you at any time, day and night.”
His acceptance of her proposal was silenced by the demands of her mouth as she pulled his head down to her level and their bodies melted together. Lightning lit up the conservatory in a brilliant flash and thunder rumbled, quivering the leaves of the plants, as Ross and Abigail inaugurated the first passion storm of the long-awaited rainy season.
More from Christine Arness
Wedding Chimes, Assorted Crimes
Theme weddings are the current rage in Lake Hope, and Keely O'Brien is the photographer of choice for the socially elite. But Keely works two weddings from which the gifts are stolen, and the implications have an unfortunate effect on her business. Local gossip columnist Flo Netherton insinuates that Keely and caterer Max Summers, if not the thieves themselves, are the perfect inside contacts for thieves, being privy to confidential details.
Pocketing her pride and her distrust of Max, Keely convinces him to help her uncover the real inside contact. Together they explore the grimy underside of the lace and tulle world of society weddings. Suddenly, once-friendly business colleagues are too busy—or too afraid—to talk. Overnight, Max and Keely become pariahs, and suspect that something more sinister than rumor is responsible for the wall of silence. And then, Flo Netherton's body is found in Keely's ransacked studio. Now the stakes are higher than the survival of her business...
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Rosemary for Remembrance Page 31