TWENTY-FIVE

 

The apple cake was everything the cook had said, and more. A bite of heaven, surely. Julia closed her eyes, savouring the taste. No wonder Romein had defended the cakes so fiercely. Having tasted, now she would fight with equal ferocity, should anyone threaten to take what was hers.

Warmth brushed her lips, and for a moment, she thought he meant to feed her another cake, but this smelled of spiced cider, far richer than any cake.

"Yes," she breathed, a moment before his lips touched hers, and he kissed her. This was no kiss of peace, over in a moment and forgotten a moment later. No, this was one stolen breath after another, a dance of lips and tongues and air that sent her head whirling and her heart drumming while pipes skirled in her belly and her legs turned to water that would scarcely hold her weight any more.

She gazed into his eyes, and for a moment, she saw forever. She would be lost forever if she did not go now.

So she fled, forcing her unwilling legs to carry her out of the kitchen, out of the house, and down to the river where Captain Balthasar and his boat would take her to safety.