Page 64 of Love in the Wild

“Should we not bond in other ways?” Thorne asked, pretending to be puzzled. She was frowning at him, and her face was flushed a lovely red.

“Yes ... yes, we should,” she sighed. Then she added, “How about the house? Should we take a tour?”

“Yes.” He did wish to see more of the world he had been born into.

“Okay. Let’s go.” She stepped out of his arms and led the way, but he heard her mutter under her breath, “Me and my big mouth.”

He had to bite his lip to hide his laughter. He would reward her later for being so sweet and letting him tease her like that.

They left the bedchamber and took their time exploring the halls of the house, pausing to study paintings, which Eden had to explain were like photos made by hand.

“Someone made this?” Thorne studied the figure before them, which was surrounded by a beautiful gold frame.

“Yes, with a paintbrush and paint.”

Thorne had vague memories of finger painting with his mother, but that was so different than the exquisite portrait he was looking upon now, which depicted a young woman in an elaborate pale-blue gown. He studied the woman’s features, looking for any sense of familiarity or likeness to himself. The eyes, perhaps? Yes, she had blue eyes that were like his own.

“She must be an ancestor.” Eden leaned against his shoulder, gazing up at the portrait.

“Ancestor?”

“Your parents had parents, and those parents had parents, and so on,” she explained, using hand gestures to suggest a series of steps. “She is probably one of them.”

“It is strange to be here, to know this was once my home,” he admitted.

“I know,” she agreed. “To be told that you belong here, after where you’ve spent your whole life ...”

“I do not feel I belong here,” Thorne said simply. Yet hewantedto feel it. He craved that sense of belonging almost as much as he craved Eden.

“Your aunt mentioned horses and stables. Do you want to go check them out?”

That suggestion brought a smile to his lips. “I remember the horses.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Eden laughed, and they walked hand in hand out of the house and toward the stables.

“Do you know about horses?” Thorne asked as they walked into the stables. The scent of something rich and wonderful filled his nose, creating waves of old memories.

His father sitting on a tall black beast, his mother lifting him up so he could sit in front of his father. The bouncing feel of the beast as it moved beneath him.

“I rode a little when I was a girl in middle school,” said Eden.

“Middle school?”

“School is where children go to learn things. But most girls get obsessed with horses around that time. My mom sent me to a riding school for two summers. I wasn’t a great rider, but I was all right. I still love to ride when I get the chance.”

Eden moved deeper into the stables and patted a large bundle of some type of gold grass. “I still love the smell of hay.” She plucked up a few pieces of dried grass and handed them to him. Thorne lifted them up and inhaled. The rich scent brought back such happy, vivid memories.Hay.Yes, he remembered what it was now. His father used to feed it to the horses.

“My father used to take me riding,” he said.

“You remember?” Eden asked, her voice lifting skyward with excitement.

“I see images. Certain smells make the images clearer.”

Eden tapped the tip of his nose playfully. “That’s the power of your nose. Smell can be the most powerful thing when it comes to a person’s memory.”

Thorne smiled, and he gently touch the tip of her nose back.

“Show me a horse,” he commanded.

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