‘That only happened once! You’ll remember that on your deathbed, I dare say.’
‘I probably will, if I live long enough to die on a bed which is distinctly less probable with you around. And I know all about enjoying myself.’
‘Yes, spending hours cleaning a broken piece of pottery. Scintillating.’
‘No, not that.’
They’d reached the top of the hill and she barely stopped in time to prevent herself from stepping into darkness. There was something in his tone that told her he’d reached the end of his temper’s leash as well. Strangely it made her want to smile. He’d scared her a little these last couple of days—he’d been so...empty. Not like the Edge she’d remembered.
In the darkness she could only make out the tense lines of his jaw and the deepened grooves by his mouth. Suddenly standing at the tip of the little cliff with the substantial bulk of this dark, angry giant looming over her felt distinctly unwise.
This is Edge, she reassured herself. He won’t hurt you. Not like that at least.
But then what did she know? Eight years and losing one’s family changed a person. She knew that. What she didn’t know was who he had become.
‘Edge...’
‘You think I’m as useless and dull as those broken pieces of pottery you used to make fun of, don’t you?’
‘No... Edge, I didn’t mean...’
‘Yes, you did. Lord Hedgehog, Stay-Away-from-the-Ledge-Edge. I lost track of how many ways you mangled my name. It is rather ironic that you were the one who saddled me with the name Edge only to then contort it into all manner of insults about how boring I am.’
‘Edge, no. I only said such things because I was upset you never wanted me to be part of what you were doing.’
That was a little too much truth. She could see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the tight line of his mouth. Embarrassed heat flared through her. She’d learned nothing in eight years. All her hard-earned poise was as flimsy as a paper boat on the Nile. Without thinking she tried to move around him and stepped into nothingness.
She didn’t end up in a heap at the bottom of the hill as she deserved. Instead it was worse. He hauled her against him, bracing his legs apart. For a moment they both teetered but then he steadied, his arms so tight around her she could feel the hard pressure of his hipbone against her stomach, his knee parting her legs.
‘Now you’ll say I told you so,’ she gasped.
‘No, I’ll say you owe me. Again.’
‘It wouldn’t have been so bad this time. We can’t have climbed that high.’
His hands softened, sliding down her back, and she sank back from her tiptoes, his knee scraping her skirts against the inside of her thighs.
‘Shall I let you go and see?’ His voice was lower, taunting. She swallowed. She was shaking and not with fear.
‘No.’
Don’t let me go.
‘Then say thank you for saving me again, Edge.’
‘Thank you for saving me again, Edge.’ She rose again on tiptoes and touched her mouth to his.
Eight years melted. She melted.
Oh, no.
She could hear those two words again and again, like a bell tolling. Oh, no...oh, no...oh, no...
I still want this.
Any second now he would push her away as he had eight years ago, probably off the cliff, but she didn’t care. She was caught by the firm warmth of his lips, softening where they were slightly parted, his breath just a whisper of indrawn air on hers, as if he’d stopped breathing altogether.
She knew what was coming—the lecture, the dismissal...
Her hands curved about his nape, slipping into his hair, so much silkier than she’d remembered, nothing like Ricki’s shaggy curls. And his scent... It wrapped around her, warm and unique. Unforgettable.
He hadn’t saved her, he’d damned her.
Again.
Damn him.
She untangled her hands, detached her mouth, bracing herself against his shoulders for when he put her aside. She wasn’t brave enough to meet his eyes so she stared at the pulsing beat at the side of his throat, at the shadowed line of his jaw, every inch of her telling her to kiss him again, touch...take.
But neither of them moved. Perhaps they’d turned to pillars of salt like Lot’s wife as she looked back in yearning.
Then his hands moved, one pulling her closer, the other cupping her cheek, his thumb rough against her lower lip, as if erasing the memory of her embrace. Then it softened, brushing with the same gentle touch he used to give his precious antiquities.
‘Shall I show you how I enjoy myself, Sam?’
It wasn’t at all like eight years ago. That had been her very first kiss and she’d been all confusion and it had taken her a while to realise it was even a kiss and only then to realise it was over.