Bits and pieces were coming back to her, like puzzle pieces being revealed and snapped into position one by one.
“Yes,” he responded. “I was the one who sent you the email. I was the one who hoped you’d take the bait and come back to me. I knew they’d managed to lock her up, meaning she couldn’t meddle anymore, but…”
“But she’d cursed me. Gods, that’s why I had this cold!”
“Yes,” Aspen agreed. “It was the curse she put on you to keep us apart. If you got too close to me…”
“I’d get so ill that I’d come running back home for her to make it better. That’s diabolical!” Stevie snapped. Tugging his hand closer, she asked the last question which didn’t make sense to her. “But how did you break her curse?”
His grin was fast and rather adorable. “Most curses have a true love element. But I couldn’t just find you—horse by day?—and kiss you. I figured some strange man coming up to you at night and just laying one on you would freak you out.”
“It would’ve…” she admitted. “Why did you put not to shave your chest in the note?”
He snickered, pulling her into his arms. “Because I hate my chest hair and wanted to shave it, but you said there was something sexy about a man with a little ‘chest fur.’ Basically, that was an inside joke between me and the you before her curses.”
“Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” she asked, pulling back enough to smack his arm again. This time, he captured her hand.
“Horse?” he explained. “It isn’t like making travel plans is particularly easy. I needed you to come to me.”
“Why didn’t Fergus recognize you—oh, she spelled my familiar?” Stevie asked.
“Yup,” Aspen agreed.
“So, I’m what she abused magically? I’m why my mother is serving time?” Stevie shook her head before tucking it into his shoulder. “That’s horrible, somehow.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Look, since you remember stuff, I’m sure you remember how I romanced you the first time along? Flowers, chocolates, romantic walks? Like, we can skip all that this go round, right?” His smile charmed her, if she let it, but Stevie couldn’t quite find it in herself to resist it.
He still held her captured hand and he tumbled her backwards onto the hay pile.
“Nope,” she said. She remembered long walks with him, getting to know him. Learning about what he liked, what he hated and sharing her interests. If her memory served, they had a lot in common, but not too much. Like, there was room for her to be herself comfortably, but also someone who would hold her in the dark hours and make her feel safe.
She couldn’t believe she would’ve forgotten all of it so easily, but then again she’d been riddled with restlessness. Like some part of her realized that it was parted with something it needed to be happy, even if she couldn’t remember what exactly.
His scent filled her nostrils, mingling with the dusty cleanness of his barn. “What do you mean, nope?” he asked before peppering kisses along the column of her neck in the way that always made her shiver with pleasure.
“Nope,” she reiterated. “You still have to do all those things. I actually require long walks, conversations that last until the sun rises, and silly flowers and gifts to remind me that even when we’re apart, you’re thinking of me. Missing me.”
He nibbled her earlobe and she cradled his head in her palm. How could she have forgotten the weight of his body on hers, grounding her and making her burn all at the same time?
“It took me weeks to work up the nerve to kiss you the first time,” he reminded her, stroking her face with his soft touch. “Do you really want to start back at square one and work our way back to that?”
“I’ll allow that we can start on, like, square seventeen,” she answered. Leaning up, she kissed him, reveling in the fact it felt like coming home. Their mouths merged, the taste of him flooding her with needs only he could fulfil.
“You’ll have to refresh my memory,” he answered, toying with the buttons on her shirt. “Does that particular step happen before or after we made love?”
Her grin was impish, and she rolled him to his back, staring down at the man who not only made her fall in love, but who put the effort in to break a curse just to find her again. “If I say after, can I at least witch us to a bed before you ravage me? Because some of the things I have in mind require a bed, some time, and possibly rope.”
His brows shot up. “Rope?”
Tracing a single fingertip down his chest, she nibbled her bottom lip. “Yeah, rope. After all, you were a horse. You should be familiar with being reined in.”
“Oh, sweet heavens, please tell me you’re not about to do a bunch of horse puns?” He sounded frustrated, an emotion expressed both by his words and his low groan.
“Why, are you afraid you’re not hung like a horse?” she asked.
He smacked her behind, and shook his head. “Witch us to the bed, my lovely lover. I promise you the ride of your life.”
“Now we’re talking,” Stevie said. And, just like magic, she poofed them to the bed. Other than making sure Fergus got out of the shower and was treated to a chameleon buffet and lots of sunshine, they stayed there for a very, very, very long time.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Virginia Nelson is the hybrid author best known for The Penthouse Prince. Aside from that, she’s the mother of three wonderful biological children and tons of adopted kids and critters. Virginia is a graduate of Kent State University with an Associate of Science and a Bachelor of Arts in English and a current student at Seton Hill University where she’s pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Sometimes called the rainbow unicorn of romance, she’s also far from perfect and she knows it. You can find out more about her—including where to find her on social media—on her website.
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virg-nelson.com
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