I nodded, having nothing else to say.
For the next few moments we gazed at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, and then I broke the connection only because the pull of her lips to mine was too much to put off for another second.
That mouth. I needed it.
Those lips. I was hungry for them.
That tongue. All I wanted was to taste it.
I was greedy for her.
Before I got as carried away as my thoughts in a public place, I broke the kiss. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”
“For what?”
“Just follow me.”
She accepted my outstretched hand.
Loving the feel of having her by my side, I squeezed her small hand. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Distract me. Tell me what we’re doing here.”
“I’ll do better than that, I’ll show you.” I led her over the Lagoon Bridge to the Swan Boats. “See those?”
“The boats?”
Apparently not everyone knew how famous these boats were, so I paused halfway across the bridge and turned so we could lean over the railing. “Those aren’t just any boats. They are the Swan Boats.”
Her husky laugh was contagious. “I can see why they’re called that, but what is the significance?”
“Good question. In the late 1890s everyone wanted to ride across the lagoon, but obviously allowing anyone and everyone wasn’t feasible due to its small size. A really smart guy named Paget was the first to apply for a license for what he called a boat for hire. He wanted something to draw people in, to want to pay the cost of the small excursion, so he selected swans.”
“Why swans?” she asked.
I’d done my research and grinned at the fact that I knew the answer. “They were inspired by the opera Lohengrin, in which real-life swans pulled a boat carrying a knight on a mission to rescue a beautiful maiden. Paget couldn’t use the real swans, so he decided to camouflage his boat operators with the shape of a much-larger-than-life swan made from copper.”
“I love the romantic notion behind it.”
Romance was never my thing, but if she thought this was romantic, who was I to tell her otherwise? I pointed to the platform of waiting people. “Riding on one is a rite of passage here in Boston.”
“Then by all means, lead the way, my knight.”
More excited than a boat ride should have made me, I smiled at her. “I’m not sure I’m a knight by any definition.”
She tugged on my hand. “Well, you’re mine.”
I didn’t respond to that. I couldn’t. I was no knight. I still wasn’t sure I would be able to protect her in the way she needed protecting. A change of topic felt best. “So it’s probably best that I confess right now that I’ve never ridden on one.”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. “You said it was a rite of passage.”
My shrug might have been a little cocky. “It is, but I’m a half-breed Bostonian so it doesn’t apply to me.”
She got a little flirty and took the lead, leaping in front of me. “It doesn’t apply to me either then, but I’m still going to board first and beat you to the title.”
I laughed. “I’ll let you have this one.”
“Last call,” the operator yelled and we both picked up the pace, speeding to the pavilion, where I quickly paid the nominal fee and we crossed the wooden platform.
We were the last ones on, so we had to sit in the back row. That was fine with me. With my arm around her shoulder, the boat started toward the southern end of the lagoon and then slowly circled the edge. It was quiet and relaxing, almost making my life feel a little normal.
“Can I ask you something?” Elle whispered.
Calm and steady for the first time in so long, my gaze slid her way. “Yeah, sure, anything.”
“When I was at your apartment in New York, you had photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge on your walls. Why?”
An emotion I’d buried deep within myself long ago wormed its way up. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “It’s stupid really.”
Her chin was on my shoulder and her breath was a whisper. “Tell me.”
I turned my head to see her. “When I was a sophomore in college, I took a photography class and one of our assignments was to photograph something that represented hope to us. I picked the Brooklyn Bridge. Having grown up being shuffled between the Upper East Side and Beacon Hill, my hope was that someday I’d find a place I could call home.”
The feel of her hand on my back was comforting as she rubbed it. I’d never had this from any other woman, not even my mother. “That makes sense. But why Brooklyn?”
I loved that she cared to ask, but I shook my head. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”