Cuckoo in the Coven
Not unless she ended him herself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“The meal is most delicious,” Cullen said as he mopped his bowl with the remaining pieces of bread on the table. Sunny had made him a delicious dinner—a strange concoction it was though, with everything jumbled together. Yet it had the most amazing taste and he felt enlivened from the heat it gave to his tongue.
Opposite him, Sunny smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Cullen nodded and wiped his mouth of the back of his hand, staring down at the empty bowl. “What was it you called it again? I must learn these names.”
“It’s a vegetarian chili.” The corners of her pretty mouth quirked.
“Chilly? But the meal leaves such heat in one’s mouth.”
She chuckled. “It doesn’t mean that, it’s named after the native word for the spice.”
“Ah.” Cullen didn’t fully understand, but accepted her words. He knew he could trust her.
Looking across the table, his desire for her seemed greater than usual. Was it the effect of the delicious food and wine, or did Celeste’s suggestion about the orchard stir his blood? A little of both, perhaps, and most of all Sunny—his love for her grew by the moment, simple as that. Despite their disagreements, and they’d had several, they were learning one another well.
Sunny cradled her wine glass in her hands, dreamy eyed. “How do you think people would react if they found out the truth about us, about you? I mean regular people, not the magical ones.”
He wondered why she was asking. Was it because her family were visiting soon? “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, and shrugged.
“I think you do.”
“Maybe.” She looked fretful.
“I can tell you how folk would react if it were 1820. You saw enough. They were wary of you, a stranger. I fear they’d treat us as fools if we’d said you’d come from the future. Or worse, they’d say the madness had taken us.”
“Yes, you’re right, and I suspect it might be even worse here in our time. Some things have improved, some have regressed. There’s always the fear that science or the media would take too close an interest. This is our secret, our knowledge. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You mean when your family arrives, you want me to be extra careful?”
She nodded.
“I will be, do not fret.” He turned his wine glass in his hand, contemplating her across the kitchen table.
“What would your parents have made of me,” she asked, “if they’d met me in 1820?”
That was a difficult question, one he wasn’t quite sure he could answer without hurting her feelings. He shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter what they thought, not to me, ever. We could have found a decent vessel, set sail for the Americas together. Or we could have found a patch of land of our own to farm, somewhere to be together and thrive. The opinions of others have never influenced me.”
She smiled dreamily, apparently happy with his answer. “A little farm of our own, maybe with an orchard. It’s what we have now, effectively. A fruit farm. Maybe we could get a goat and some chickens?”
Was t
his the wine talking? he wondered. “I don’t see why not.”
He decided to change her thoughts to something more pleasant than other people’s opinions of them. “What do you make of this talk of the orchard and lovemaking?”
“Well,” Sunny replied with a naughty smile, “I’ve had to have more of an open mind recently. I used to be a very practical person.”
“You still are, my love.”
“Thank you for noticing. However, I accept the traditional and magical ways. So I say let’s keep the orchard tip in mind.”
“Now?” He sat up, preparing to make ready for a moonlight trip to the orchard.