She lifted a brow and gave him a knowing grin. “Oh, I think you’re still a man.”
His lips twitched. “This,” he gestured, taking in their surroundings, “this is all an illusion. Frightening fragments of time and space, magic, moment, memory. Thoughts tumbling, tumbling down.” His eyes grew distant and she knew she was losing him to the thoughts in his head. She tapped his arm, bringing his eyes back to her with a jerk.
“Illusion? Madness? This place doesn’t seem so mad.”
Hair slipped into his eyes. Emboldened, she reached up and patted it back.
He stilled. She curled her fingers into a fist she brought quickly back to her lap. “What I mean is,” her words faltered only a little, “I love this place.”
“Why?” The question tore from someplace deep inside him. She sensed his desperate desire to understand her, understand why she felt as she did.
“There’s magic here and rooms that lead to nothing. Clocks that tick in perpetual motion, flowers that come alive at my touch, and...” there’s you... She looked down, distracting herself by taking a bite of the lemon curd laden scone. The sweet tang tingled her tongue and she moaned, a little jealous at his cook’s ability to make such delicious curd. Her stuff was good, but this was like biting into a lemon plucked fresh from a tree with a drizzle of sugar on top.
“So good,” she cooed.
She felt his gaze like a brand. “What was the last part you did not speak?”
He’d caught that. She wiggled, took a deep breath and gathered her courage.
“I want to know you, Hatter. Is that so strange?”
“Yes.”
She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue swiping up a crumb from the corner of her mouth. His eyes homed in like a beacon and it was unnerving, exhilarating. She touched her chest, feeling suddenly very hot.
“What am I to you? You do not know me.” His voice dripped scorn, anger, and something else. Hope? Maybe.
She drummed her nails on the table. She knew he liked his poems. Pride shaded the corners of his lips when he threw out a particularly obscure one.
His hands were long, fingers strong and firm. There was strength in those hands; she’d felt them tighten at her waist. He wasn’t an idle man with hands like that. Many might be tempted to think he drank tea all day and guzzled wine all night. Mad as a Hatter, they all said, but though, at times, he seemed to lose touch with reality, there was a hawk’s gaze behind those eyes. A quickness that saw more in a blade of grass than many could read within the pages of a book.
And the hell of it was she didn’t know how she knew that. She just did. Alice had dreamed of him for years, talked to him, told him her most cherished and heartfelt dreams, knowing in her child’s heart that he heard her, understood her, and knew her just as well.
“I know we have two days, Hatter.” She did not wish to give him hope. She had a life she needed to get back to. Responsibilities. She had a Shoppe to run and Tabby was probably crazy with worry. Not to mention her mother and father were probably, even now, calling every cop on the island to do a thorough search for their missing daughter. They’d all think something horrible had happened to her.
Somehow, someway she’d figure out how to save Hatter, how to get Wonderland to accept her. But she couldn’t stay permanently. If there was some way to hop between realms, then that could be a definite possibility. But she had to go back eventually.
The light in his eyes dimmed and he sat back, staring out at the garden with unseeing eyes.
Her fingers shook as she reached for a small bowl of grapes. “The food is wonderful,” she said, desperate to get him to look back at her. She hated to see the sadness touch his eyes.
“Leonard will be pleased.”
Her lips quirked and she glanced around. A tiger-striped butterfly touched down on the table. Its gossamer wings moved gracefully. The animals and flowers were so normal today. She’d kind of hoped for more, maybe a butterfly with pads of butter for wings or rocking horse flies. Of course, that had been a cartoon and she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. “I’d like to tell him thanks. I know I love it when a customer tells me that.”
He nodded, tapping the other teapot on the table. “Leonard, awake. Alice wishes to thank you.”
Shock made her drop the succulent red grape an inch from her mouth as the furry head of a tiny mouse popped its head out.
“Oh my gosh!” she squeaked. “A mouse. A...a-”
The food that’d settled in her stomach with the sweetness of sun warmed honey, suddenly felt like a brick. She breathed hard around the gag.
He rubbed black little eyes, large ears twitching as he looked around with a furtive sneer. “Mice!” His high-pitched squeak matched her own. “Where? A pox on them.” The teapot rocked precariously as he shook a tiny fist. His nose wrinkled at a furious pace. “Nasty flea ridden vermin they are! And in me garden no less.”