She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Dimples. And that was all it took.
Edward closed the space between them in two strides. He didn’t really know what he was doing, only that he had to do something right now or he’d explode. Her warm heart-shaped face was in his hands, his fingers caught in her curls. She opened her mouth to say something, and he kissed her.
He kissed her!
He knew he must be doing it right because after a few stampeding heartbeats her eyes closed and her hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders and she kissed him back.
Edward felt like he was flying, only his feet were firmly on the ground.
He kissed her and kissed her.
With tongue, it must be noted.
She pulled away, green eyes wide. “Good Lord,” she breathed.
He considered that a compliment.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He tucked a glossy black curl behind her ear, then dragged his thumb gently over her chin.
She leaned in until her lips were nearly touching his. “I have some idea.”
He kissed her again.
Of course this whole kissing Gracie thing didn’t mean that Edward was going to marry her, and that they were going to live happily ever after. (But if he played his cards right, who knows?) The happily ever after of this book belongs to Gifford and Jane. Naturally. But for now, Edward just kissed Gracie. More slowly this time. An explorer of new worlds.
Some time later he said, “Now give me Bess’s crown back, imp.”
She laughed and pulled the crown out of the satchel. “Fine. Have it. But I thought you said you didn’t want it.”
“I don’t want it. I’m not a gyrfalcon, am I? I’m a kestrel,” he said against her ear. “Not a king.”
She turned her head and kissed him, a teasing brush of her lips on his. “All right, then,” she said in her charming brogue. “But just so you know, Edward . . .”
He kissed her again. “You called me Edward!”
“Yes. Edward.” She grinned up at him. “You’ll always be a king to me.”
TWENTY-NINE
Jane
Okay, we’re almost to the happily ever after. But before that, we have to talk about the wedding. Oh, we know there was already a wedding. We mean a second wedding.
Jane and Gifford’s second wedding was very much like their first wedding.
Except this wedding took place outside.
During the day.
And the bride and groom actually liked each other.
And they were both human at the time of the nuptials, which was indeed the case at their first blessed union, but given the daytime nature of this one, we thought we should make that clear.
Jane and Gifford stood below an arch laced with flowers, a field spreading all around them. There were only a handful of chairs for guests, but every one of them was full. Lady Dudley and G’s younger sister, Temperance, were seated in the front row. Edward and Gracie (holding hands, of course), Bess, and Gran sat on the opposite row. Peter Bannister and Pet had also come, both in their human states (and this was the first time anybody ever saw Pet wearing actual clothes). Notably absent were those who’d conspired to set up the first wedding: Lady Frances had gone into exile when it became clear she wouldn’t be able to manipulate (or pinch or poke) Jane any longer (she ran off with the Grey Estates’ master of horse, which was quite the scandal); the Privy Council was certainly not invited; and Lord Dudley—well.
Lord Dudley was never heard from again. As far as we know, he lived, sentenced to finish out his days near a sulfur mine. It was that or death, and he chose sulfur. Whether or not he was happy with that decision, we may never know.
Anyway, back to the wedding.
On everyone’s lap rested a book. Any book. In case the wedding got boring. As the priest droned on in the same manner as last time, Jane was both pleased and annoyed that no one was taking advantage of her thoughtfulness.
“And now,” said the priest, “let us declare the miracles of holy matrimony.”
First, true love.
With her free hand, Jane squeezed Gifford’s, smiling up at him. Love, they definitely had. It felt true. Her heart pounded as the priest extolled the wonders of love and finding one’s perfect match.
“I love you,” Gifford whispered, and Jane warmed all over.
“We’re not to the vows yet,” the priest muttered out of the side of his mouth.
“Sorry.”
Second, virtue.
Gifford’s gaze dropped to peer down her bodice.
Jane snorted and laughed, drawing Looks from everyone. But she didn’t care. Not this time.
Third, progeny.
Well, that was under discussion. Maybe one day.
“Now you may give your vows,” said the priest.