Copyright © 2007
All rights reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Grace took a deep breath, and her next words fogged the window. “We can be together now.”
“Didn't you hear what I said?” he yelled, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. She flinched, and pressed her back to the door.
“I don't believe you.” Her voice trembled, while tears glistened on her eyelashes. “Do you still have it?”
“Have what?” he snorted, pretending not to know what she was talking about.
Silence thickened while they sat side by side, yet miles apart. Her shaky breath broke the moment. “The brooch, the one my grandmother gave me. Do you still have it?”
Aidan's throat tightened around his answer. On her wedding day, he'd pinned it on the high collar of her dress, and she'd slipped it back into his hand after the ceremony had ended.
She glanced at him. “Aidan?”
His knuckles turned white as he choked the steering wheel. The confession tore from his mouth. “Yes, I still have it.”
This time, he welcomed her touch, the gentle stroke of her hand over his. She inched closer, and he reached for her, slipping his hand around the back of her neck to draw her toward him. Her head rested on his shoulder, the scent of lavender and rosewater making his head spin.
Before he could stop himself, he tilted her head back and kissed her soft, willing mouth. Her fingers trailed up his shirtfront, over his collar and into his hair. She tasted like peppermint and gin, and all the familiar memories he feared he'd left on the battlefield. He pulled back. “Gracie...”
“Don't talk, Preacher,” she warned, laying her finger across his lips. With eyes wide, she smiled. “Do you remember everything?”