The Mech Who Loved Me(98)

"They have all manner of ferns back here, and lush foliage. There's a little waterfall in the back, with a beautiful clearing," he said, leading her through the winding paths in the garden, the lantern he'd taken from one of the servants casting a long shadow in front of him. His luxurious, fur-lined cloak made it look like his shadow had wings.

"It's lovely," she whispered, looking around. The place seemed completely different tonight. No capering jugglers or acrobats. No drunk men wandering around.

Just her. And Kincaid.

And the twitter of birds, settling in for the night.

Moss carpeted the ground, and little lanterns were strung through the trees. Not bright enough to light the garden, but it felt like she was following a mysterious trail. A rush of water whispered ahead of them. His waterfall.

Ava saw it and rushed to investigate, her soft-soled boots crushing the grass. Someone had set a string of lanterns over the waterfall, and light gleamed on the churning foam.

She had not expected a fairy tale, but she felt almost as if she stood in one.

Ava's breath caught.

"Come here," Kincaid murmured, holding out his hand to her as he stood on the gaping precipice of a clearing. "There's a reason I brought you here."

From the top of the small ridge, she could see London spread out in front of her, the Ivory Tower where the queen ruled pointing like a pale finger into the sky. There were no stars over the city-the smog probably obscured them-but thousands of little lights twinkled in the velvety darkness, reminding her of just how alone the two of them felt. Lawn stretched out in front of her until it reached the far wall that circled the Gardens. A cool breeze stirred her skirts, and Kincaid slid his arms around her, his heat sinking into her body.

"You were right," she said. "I barely managed to explore that night. This is lovely." Turning to wrap her arms around him, she lifted on her toes to kiss him. "Thank you."

When she drew back with a smile, he frowned. "What?"

"It's just"-Ava gestured to the clearing, and the picnic someone had set out for them-"I was expecting lurid art, or sumptuous red velvet throws and a bed covered in furs. This is almost"-dare she say it-"romantic."

Kincaid rolled his eyes. He swirled his cloak off his shoulders and laid it down upon a bed of moss, and suddenly she realized why he'd worn such a luxurious cloak. "I'm not so much of a boor as to fuck you in some bordello."

The word was typical Kincaid. But she suddenly wondered if he used such a word to distance himself. Ava hid another smile. She had called him romantic, after all, which was probably the worst thing anyone had ever accused him of.

"Stop it," he growled, glaring at her.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You're thinking it." He gestured around them. "I left all of the details up to Charlie. The lad's clearly a closet poet."

"You took me to the place where it all began for you," she teased. "A garden, which you know I love. And I can smell strawberries in that basket. My favorite."



       
         
       
        

"I hadn't even noticed," he scoffed.

"Strawberry jam," she pointed out, because he'd made such a big deal of it at breakfast the first time she'd eaten it on toast, as though he'd only expected her to consume blood.

Kincaid clasped his hands behind his head, a small smile playing across his mouth. "All right, I admit it. I wanted you to have your fairy tale, even if it was just for one night. Instead, you corrupted me in the carriage."

"Corrupted you?"

Kincaid snagged a handful of her skirts, dragging her into his arms. "Had your way with me, tempted me into the most ungainly loss of virginity known to man...."

"Fucked you," she said, and watched heat fill his eyes.

Kincaid curled her closer, his hands on her bottom as his glazed eyes locked on her lips. "Now who's the one with the dirty mouth?"

"I swear you're rubbing off on me," she told him, but she swayed into his touch. Thirty minutes ago she would have said she needed a day to recover. But the craving virus did heal everything, after all.

"Miss McLaren, are you propositioning me with those eyes?"

"Yes," she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest and stretching onto her toes. Confidence bloomed within her. She'd always wistfully wished she was a little more like Gemma, but had she mistaken the other woman's sauciness for confidence? Now she could be just herself, just Ava, but an Ava who felt like she could take on the whole world in this moment.