Beth always insisted Ian tell the end of a story, no matter that, in his head, he'd finished with the subject and moved on.
"It was beautiful." Ian forced the memories to return. "Translucent white and brilliant blue. The lines were perfect. Chrysanthemums and dragons, a lotus flower on its bottom. I couldn't stop looking at it."
He remembered his younger self standing in the center of the shop, staring at the bowl, riveted in place. Isabella telling him it was time to leave, and Ian refusing to go. His world had been so heavily gray, and the incandescent colors of the bowl had stood out like a beacon of hope.
"Isabella told me not to buy it, but she didn't understand." Ian wanted to laugh at the memory. Isabella had been bewildered, so sure Hart would shout at her for letting Ian spend so much. "I had my own money. Curry wrote out the cheque for me, and I took the bowl home. I was only at ease in my mind when looking at it. So Isabella found another one for me. That one wasn't right, but the next one she showed me was. After that, I looked for them myself."
"Only bowls." Beth smiled the warm smile that had crashed over him like a wave of sunshine the first time he'd seen it. "I remember when you told me that."
Ian looked away and studied the floor about a foot in front of his boot, unable to concentrate with her beauty flooding him. "I like the shape." He didn't buy the bowls for their value, though he knew to the farthing what each was worth. He would completely ignore a perfect specimen that cost a fortune if he didn't like it. "When I saw the one from Russia, I knew it was special."
Beth's fingers curled into her palms. "Ian, you are breaking my heart. I didn't mean to drop it."
Ian, pulled back to her, put his hand on her small ones and looked up into her face. "That bowl was special because of the blue. It exactly matched your eyes."
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Beth stopped. Her lips parted and a tear dropped to her cheek. "Oh, Ian."
Ian stared at her in surprise, pain touching his heart. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He'd intended to explain why she shouldn't bother trying to replace the bowl for him, so she would stop worrying about it.
As he watched the tears streak her cheeks, old dark anger built inside him, the one that manifested when Ian couldn't understand what he'd done. The angry beast told Ian that he was mad, unworthy of her, and would lose her in the end.
Ian kicked at the darkness, which he hadn't felt in a long time, willing it to recede. He cupped his hands around Beth's face, brushing away her tears.
"Why are you crying?" He felt the desperation rise, the need to understand.
"Because it was special to you. And I ruined it."
Words deserted him. He saw only Beth's tears, her blue eyes wet. He couldn't find the way to explain, to stop her weeping.
He growled in frustration as he tilted her face to his and kissed her lips.
The touch of her mouth was like a balm, soothing hurt. Ian let himself be lost in the warmth of her mouth, the taste of her breath.
He needed to touch her, to be surrounded by her warmth. He'd take her to bed and kiss away her tears, give her pleasure so deep she'd forget about the confounded bowl.
Ian had learned all about physical pleasure long ago, how to give it, how to enjoy it. He'd had trouble with emotions--with mastering them, or at times, even feeling them. But physical joy he understood. He'd sought it to replace the more profound emotions he knew he'd never experience.
Beth had taught him otherwise. The marriage of the physical with the love she'd awakened had opened an entire world to Ian, one more amazing than he'd ever imagined.
He slid his arms around her, Beth making a noise in her throat as his kisses landed on the exposed skin of her shoulders and breasts.
As he reveled in the taste of her, her scent of cinnamon, sweat, dust, the back of his mind began to work.
Beth liked it when Ian did things for Jamie and Belle. When the children were pleased by his gifts or his attention, Beth laughed, she hugged Ian impulsively, she'd even kiss him in front of people, Beth who was so modest in public.
Ian remembered something he'd discovered accidentally one evening while idling away time waiting for his brothers. He'd tucked the idea and its beautiful precision into the recesses of his brain to be examined at another time, but now he brought it forth. Belle might not understand beyond the amusement of it, but Jamie would be delighted. He liked precision almost as much as his father did.
The idea caught at Ian so abruptly that he broke the kiss.
Beth touched his face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He decided not to tell her. When he'd surprised Beth in the past with gifts, her astonishment had increased her delight, and Beth was at her most beautiful when she was delighted.