Kiss Me, Kill Me

‘Congratulations, Mrs Blake.’ The clink of crystal made the champagne bubbles dance in the sunshine.

‘Congratulations, Mr Blake,’ Catherine replied, meeting his eyes and taking a sip.

Jonathan grinned back at her, wedged the bottle safely in stones, and dropped down to sit behind her, wrapping his free arm round her.

She breathed a sigh of pure bliss, leaning against him. He was like a warm wall at her back, shielding her from the wind that funnelled off the high mountains into the ghyll where they sat. The valley below was perfectly England: vibrantly green fields bound by grey walls, clusters of grey slate cottages and farm buildings.

It was her idea of a perfect honeymoon destination.

It was hard to believe they’d been strangers just a few weeks before.

‘I meant to say no, you know,’ she murmured.

‘To the proposal?’ She could hear the warm smile in his voice. He slipped his hands up under her jacket.

‘No. To the second date.’

His hands moved, touching, stroking, conjuring memories of last night and shivering predictions of all the nights to come. ‘So why didn’t you?’ he breathed against her nape.

‘Because…’ She shivered, goose bumps rising on her arms. ‘Because I didn’t think I deserved something as perfect as you.’

He was very still. Even his hands had stopped their leisurely journey.