by Ophelia Silk
Adelaide’s hand brushed Jane’s waist as she passed in the kitchen. Jane captured Adelaide’s hand when she reached for herbs and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. For these movements to already feel so comfortable and natural was absurd, but they did. The life that she had always felt vaguely sick at having, gentle and domestic, felt perfectly natural here in the forest with Adelaide.
She thought she was beginning to understand, a little, why she loved living here so much, away from the judging eyes of others. It seemed like every moment, Jane was discovering new things about herself, learning who she truly was outside of the context of what was expected of her.
And so she did, as the days passed. She woke up to Adelaide’s face inches from hers, fell asleep with her arms around her waist. During the day, they talked and laughed. Adelaide read to her and shared her magic.
Sometimes, she would leave, and Jane would clean. She’d have dinner ready when Adelaide came home, pale cheeks reddened from the cold outside. She’d take her cloak with a smile.
Except one day, Adelaide paused before putting on her cloak. “Would you like to come with me?”
Jane blinked, surprised. “Can I?”
Adelaide smiled, the expression softening her usually sharp features. “Well, we have the Edelweiss to keep you safe. Some fresh air would do your healing good.” Her dark eyes flashed, and she wrapped her arms around Jane’s neck. “And just maybe I don’t want to be parted from you today.”
Jane’s chest warmed. She stood on her toes to brush her lips across Adelaide’s cheek. “I’d like that. Assuming that you don’t mind me shirking my cleaning duties for the day.”
Adelaide snorted out a laugh. “Yes, I daresay I’ll survive without your self-appointed chores done.”
Jane clasped her cloak around her throat, filling her pockets with Edeweiss petals that glowed faintly white. She stepped outside and shivered.
“Oh, goodness. It’s gotten cold.”
She’d known, of course—she’d seen the occasional flurries of snow from the kitchen window, had watched the trees sway in the breeze from the otherwise serene garden. But it was easy to forget, in Adelaide’s home, curled up by the fire with Cabula in her lap. It was tucked away, hidden from the rest of the world.
Adelaide smiled and threaded their fingers together. “If it’s too cold, you can go back inside.”
“No! No.” She squeezed Adelaide’s hand, gentle. “I’d like to stay with you.”
Adelaide’s smile did much to warm her.
They walked through the forest. It wasn’t as bright as Adelaide’s garden, desaturated gray and brown trees that had already lost their leaves. The deep green of the pines just barely kept color in the space.
“What do you think of the forest, Jane?”
Jane bit back the polite comment that wanted to come out, meaningless and entirely dishonest. “It’s not as nice as your garden,” she admitted. “But I’m glad to be with you.”
Adelaide laughed. “It’s true, the forest isn’t home to many flowers. But it isn’t without its uses.” She knelt, tugging moss from the base of a tree trunk. “Take this, for example! Impossible to grow through magic means, but very important for spells.”
“What does it do?” Jane knelt beside her, a bit fascinated with the deft, sure movement of Adelaide’s hands.
“Healing, mostly, but I’ve used it for more complicated magic as well.”
“Healing,” Jane echoed, bemused. “Is it this that makes that potion taste so foul?”
Adelaide laughed. “No, dear Jane. That would be the cockroaches and the bear sh—”
“Please!” Jane clapped her hands over her ears, although she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up in her own chest. “Please, I don’t want to know!”
Adelaide tugged at her hands. “I’m only kidding. I promise, your potion is 100 percent excrement free.”
“How soothing,” Jane said, her tone flat.
Adelaide leaned forward, a small smile on her face. “Would I dare to kiss you with it on your breath otherwise?”
Jane was aware of the rough bark at her back, the dry scent of the chill-soaked grass. But mostly she was aware of Adelaide. Her slim hand on Jane’s shoulder, her breath on Jane’s cheek as she leaned in. She smiled into the kiss, closing her eyes. The sunlight played patterns across her closed eyelids, but she didn’t think that was what made her dizzy.
Adelaide’s lips parted against hers, urging her to do the same. Jane gasped against her as she deepened the kiss, the cold air that filled her throat immediately soothed by Adelaide’s lips and tongue. Jane pressed her back against the tree, tilting her head back as Adelaide’s lips left hers to trail across her jaw, the fair line of her neck.
“Oh, Addy,” Jane gasped. One hand found the back of Adelaide’s head, fingers threading through her dark hair; the other curled into the earth, tugging out a fistful of grass. Heat pooled in her and for just a moment she wasn’t thinking of restraint or fear but only the warmth of Adelaide’s body echoed beneath her own skin.
She opened her eyes. Above her the sky was a gray so bright it was almost white, an endless expanse. Jane felt just as endless, a well of want so deep that she’d never hit the bottom. She felt endless and craving and—
And exposed.
Maybe it was the brightness of the sky or the sparseness of the trees, but all at once the fears that Adelaide’s lips had managed to chase away came roaring back with a vengeance. Her hands went limp. “Addy,” she said, forcing her voice to stay gentle, not wanting to betray her panic.
Something in her tone must have tipped Adelaide off, though, because she stopped immediately. She drew back, dark eyes studying Jane’s expression carefully. Slowly, she removed her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be!” Jane surged forward, clutching at Adelaide’s hands. “I—I enjoyed that, very much. I wanted to continue. It’s just… it’s foolish. I’m sorry.”
Adelaide pushed some of Jane’s hair away from her forehead. “Never apologize for that, Jane. Your boundaries are important.” She hesitated, an uncharacteristic carefulness about her words. “Do you want to tell me what happened? You are not obligated to give me an explanation, but I would like to avoid making you uncomfortable in the future.”
“It was nothing you did,” Jane said. “It’s just—I know that no one from town can see us here. But out in the open, I can’t help feeling exposed. So it just sort of…” She made a helpless gesture with her hands.
“I see,” Adelaide said. “That’s perfectly reasonable, Jane. Thank you for telling me.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Of course not.” Adelaide helped her to her feet. “As beautiful as you are, and as much as I want you, you happen to have many other wonderful qualities. You’re wonderful company, for one.” Her eyes sparkled. “Are you alright in continuing to keep me company, or would you prefer to go back to the cabin?”
And just knowing that Adelaide cared about the answer meant more than Jane could say. She smiled.
“I’d like to stay with you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Glowing Star
“I HAVE AN idea.”
Jane looked up from the meal she was preparing, a smile on her face. “Yes?”
Adelaide stood from her place by the fire, eyes glittering impish and amber in the light. “Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be ready by the time dinner is done.” And without any further explanation, she rushed out the door to the garden.
Jane watched her go, a bemused smile on her face. But she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t find it endearing, the excitement she saw in Adelaide’s expression. That amusement only grew as Adelaide scampered in and out of the house, grabbing blankets and pillows before rushing back out with an almost childish glee.
Finally, Adelaide walked in a final time, settling with her elbows propped on the countertop. “Should I pack this dinner as a picnic?” Jane asked.
“Caught on, did you?”
“I didn’t mean to ruin your surprise,” Jane said, half teasing.
Adelaide raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ve got all of it figured out. Come now. I’ll help you pack that up.”
In the end, Jane did most of the packing. Adelaide did contribute by grabbing a bottle of wine. “This is much less strong than the last one. And I think we’ll have to limit ourselves.” She leaned close to Jane. “You know, the fact that you were under the influence was the only thing that kept me from kissing you, that night. It wouldn’t have been right.”
Jane stood on her toes, closing some of the gap between them. “I’m not under the influence now.”
Adelaide’s kiss was smile-shaped against her lips.
Jane walked outside, rather expecting a few blankets spread out across the dirt. That wasn’t what greeted her. Walls of flowers reached up to the sky, purple and white blossoms entwining together. They towered over a small space full of blankets and pillows, hiding them from prying eyes while allowing a view of the sky above, as well as an opening facing the house.
The sky. Jane gasped when she caught a good look at it. She’d never been in the garden at night before. And just as the sky was unnaturally cloudless during the day, so too was it clear at night. The moon shone bright and comforting against the velvet dark, surrounded by thousands of stars.
“My word,” Jane breathed.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
But when Jane took her eyes from the sky, Adelaide wasn’t looking at the stars or the moon. She was looking at her as though she were just as brilliant.
Jane went to her, cupping her cheek in her hand. “It’s beautiful. The flowers?”
Adelaide shrugged. “A more complicated spell than I usually do, but I wanted to make sure… I wanted you to feel safe here. Not like in the forest.”
Jane gawked at the flowers, unable to believe that Adelaide had done such a kind thing. The fact that she’d gone out of her way to indulge in a worry that many would see as foolish made her feel oddly like crying.
Maybe some of that showed in her face, because when Adelaide spoke there was a touch of anxiety in her voice. “Jane? Do you like it?”
Jane smiled, such tenderness welling up in her heart that she hardly knew what to do with it. A kiss felt inadequate. “I love it.”
She made her way to the space. The flowers were spaced far enough away from the blankets that it didn’t feel cramped, but close enough that it felt cozy and secure. The blankets were layered on top of each other, so sitting on them was more comfortable than the packed earth. “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”
Adelaide sat next to her, smoothing her skirts about her legs. “I wanted to do it for you.”
Jane kissed her, kissed her until her head spun and her lungs were so full of the sweet scent of the flowers that she thought she would burst. She giggled when they drew apart. “Our food is going to get cold.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Adelaide smiled, the moonlight soft around her silhouette.
Jane spread out the food as Adelaide poured the wine. Jane sipped at her drink, staring up at the stars. “Have you ever done this before?”
“What? Had a moonlit date with someone? Showed them my garden? Felt such an affection for someone that it felt as though my heart would burst?”
Jane’s own heart stuttered in her chest. “Any of them.”
Adelaide smiled. “No.”
“You’ve never taken anyone into your garden, even?”
“I didn’t think anyone would appreciate it.” She smiled, reaching out to stroke one of the purple flowers growing around them. Jane recognized it as a hydrangea—and the white flowers were edelweiss. Their flowers. “Besides, I didn’t want to.”
“But you showed it to me. Even before…” She trailed off, gesturing helplessly.
Adelaide looked down. “I knew you were different. Even before you kissed me. I could sense that power in you, that courage.”
Jane shook her head. “I’m not brave. You’ve seen me at my weakest.” She wasn’t thinking of earlier in the forest or even the initial attack, as much as the night in the snow. She knew Adelaide must have been thinking of the same thing, but her gaze was firm.
“And did you wallow there? No! You woke up the next morning and decided to clean my house.” Adelaide laughed. “Do you know how many people would simply lay and wait for the moment they were well enough to leave? But you refused to do that. Besides,” and here Adelaide’s voice softened, her gaze dropping to the blanket, “you’ve seen me at… less than my best.”
Jane put her hand on Adelaide’s, smiling softly. “You’re trying. And I love that about you. I love it when you let yourself be kind.”
Adelaide smiled, bringing Jane’s hand up to brush her lips across her knuckles. It was a gesture William had done thousands of times, but never had it tingled through Jane like this. It wasn’t unlike the magic, but this time, it was something far more ordinary. But no less incredible for that.
Jane blushed, going back to her food. Maybe it was improper, to be thinking of something like this so soon. On the other hand, everything about this relationship was improper. She was going against everything her parents wanted for her every time she kissed Adelaide, held her, or even got lost in her gaze.
Was there really any need for reticence, considering? Especially when Adelaide looked at her in such a way, with dark eyes that seemed to smolder instead of glow in the moonlight?
Jane went back to her food, although she doubted that would be the thing to truly satisfy her. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, musing on Adelaide’s words, she spoke. “I’m glad,” she said.
“Glad of what?”
“Glad that I’m the first one you showed this garden to, glad that I’m the first one you’ve sat in the moonlight like this, glad that I’m the first one that you…”
“Love?” Adelaide finished, soft.
Jane’s voice caught in her throat. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t seem to free it. Her words were like birds, caught in the cage of her ribs. Perhaps they were what produced the pounding that went all through her.
“I know, it’s soon. But it doesn’t feel it.” Adelaide laughed, barely a breath. “Jane, I feel as though I know you better than I know anyone. And I feel as though you know me. I didn’t think that was possible, for someone to know all of me and still want to stay. And it’s alright if you aren’t ready—”
“I love you.”
Adelaide stopped her near-ramble, eyes wide and almost silver in the dark. “What?”
“I love you.” Now that the first words had come free, these were much easier. She reached out, stroking Adelaide’s cheek with her hand. “I love you, Adelaide.”
“Jane.” Adelaide’s voice was not just a whisper. It was a reverent breath. “Jane, I love you, too.”
Jane wasn’t sure how long they sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. But then there was a rumble from above, and rain began to fall from the sky, breaking the spell between them.
Adelaide let out an indignant noise that was truly more of a squawk than anything. Jane fell back, laughing, on the blanket. The sky was still clear and full of stars, utterly without clouds in spite of the rain that fell. Clearly, Adelaide’s magic only kept out some natural phenomena. Somehow, this only made Jane laugh harder.
“Do you want to come inside, or would you like to sit there laughing until you catch your death?”
Adelaide had retreated to the open doorway of the cottage, shaking out her limbs not unlike a displeased cat. Jane continued giggling, even as she pulled herself to her feet and ran to Adelaide’s arms.
“Well, I can’t catch my death,” she said primly. “Your potions are so valuable, it would be a waste for me to die now after everything.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes, but this time, she laughed along.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A Hear
t Unrestrained
“I’M SORRY.”
“It’s fine, Addy,” Jane laughed, wringing out her hair.
“It was supposed to be such a wonderful date, I should have checked to see if it was going to rain.”
“I had a lovely time.”
“You must be freezing.”
Jane looked down at her dress. She was, admittedly, a bit more soaked than Adelaide, having stayed out in the rain longer. The thin fabric clung to her form.
Suddenly, the rain was the last thing on her mind.
Instead of retiring to her room, or stripping off the dress herself, she moved toward the fire, spreading her arms out. She let the light catch her, certainly shining through the damp fabric. She watched as Adelaide’s eyes widened, her pupils swallowing her irises. And a deep, secret part of her was pleased.
“Well,” Jane said. “Perhaps you should come warm me.”
Adelaide stumbled forward, one hand held out but not quite daring to touch. Her eyes darted down to Jane’s chest and then back up, uncharacteristically hesitant. “You want me to—”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Jane cupped Adelaide’s face in her hands. “Very sure. As long as you want to…”
Adelaide laughed, eyes dark and glittering in the firelight. She tucked her cheek further into Jane’s hand, like a cat seeking affection. “I do. Very much so.”
Jane smiled, and brought Adelaide in for a kiss.
For a moment she could feel Adelaide’s fingertips hovering at her back, unsure. Then they slid slowly up her spine, stroking water droplets away from the back of her neck, pressing a warm palm to her flesh. Slowly her hand slid sideways, pushing the sleeve of both Jane’s dress and her shift until they hung off of one shoulder.
Jane shivered into her touch. Adelaide’s mouth was warm against her own, sending little pulses of heat all through her.
Adelaide shifted, pressing kisses to Jane’s jawline, her throat. Then she ran her lips along the newly bare skin of her shoulder, exhaling more than kissing. Jane giggled a little, both from the slightly ticklish sensation and fondness over the fact that Adelaide seemed to be taking her request to be “warmed up” more seriously than she meant it.
