Page 64 of Must Love Scones and Secrets
“Iwasangry,” I admitted. “And hurt. But I could never hate you, Bjorn.” My wings fluttered nervously as I gathered my courage. “I meant what I said. I love you. The prince part is… Well, it will take some getting used to, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“Rosalyn,” he whispered, then pulled me close, kissing me deeply.
This kiss was different from the others. There was no spell from mischievous unicorns, rain-soaked desperation, or secrets. We were just Bjorn and Rosalyn, with nothing hidden or held back.
His lips were gentle at first, almost reverent, but they grew more insistent when I pressed myself closer.
I don’t know how long we stood there, lost in each other, but eventually, we broke apart, both breathing hard. Bjorn rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as though savoring the moment.
“I should have told you the truth from the beginning,” he whispered. “I was so afraid of losing you.”
“I understand why you didn’t,” I said softly. “And I forgive you.”
His eyes opened, searching mine. “Just like that?”
“Well, the dramatic proposal and terrible singing didn’t hurt,” I teased. “But I understand wanting to be seen for yourself, not what others expect you to be.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Spring Haven. You left because you wanted to be a baker, not a butterfly maiden.”
I nodded. “We’re not so different after all.”
“I meant what I said outside. I want to marry you, Rosalyn. But I need you to understand what that would mean. My life in Frostfjord… It’s complicated. There would be expectations, duties…”
“Are you trying to talk me out of accepting your proposal?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No!” he said quickly. “I just want you to know what you’d be getting into. My mother can be…formidable. The court politics are exhausting. And the weather?—”
“I know we have a lot to figure out, but we’ll do it together.”
Relief flooded his features. “Together,” he agreed, pulling me close again.
This time when we kissed, the gentle exploration gave way to something more urgent. The relief of reconciliation combined into a heady mixture that left us both breathless. My fingers found the clasps of his formal cloak, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor. His hands, meanwhile, had found their way beneath my blouse and were skimming over the sensitive skin of my waist.
“Rosalyn,” he breathed against my lips, “are you sure? About everything?”
The vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache. Even now, part of him expected rejection, feared I might change my mind once the romantic moment had passed.
In answer, I took his hand and led him toward my bedroom. Sensing what was about to happen, Merry sauntered away, his dignity intact.
Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, bathing the small room in a soft glow. My bedroom was cozy, filled with mismatched furniture I’d collected over the years, themagenta-colored walls adorned with framed pressed flowers, embroidered scenes, and sketches from my friends. It wasn’t grand or royal, but it was mine.
Bjorn looked around with interest, taking in the personal touches: the stack of cookbooks beside the bed, the vase of ever-blooming pinkie tulips that Juniper had given me last solstice, the tiny caticorn figurine that had been my first purchase when I’d moved to Moonshine Hollow.
“Sorry,” I said with a soft grin. “It’s not every day a girl invites a prince into her bedroom. If I had known you were coming, I would have dusted,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s perfect. It’s…it’s you.”
I smiled softly at him then reached up and carefully removed the silver torc from around his neck, setting it on my dresser. Then I began to undo the intricate fastenings of his royal tunic, my fingers working deftly. “And you… You’re still Bjorn—justBjorn—to me,” I whispered.
He pulled me against the warmth of his now-bare chest. The blue runes that marked his skin began to glow, responding to my touch. I traced one with my finger, following its path across his collarbone.
“These are beautiful,” I murmured.
“Theyonlyglow when I’m with you.”
The intensity of his gaze made my heart race. My wings fluttered involuntarily, shedding sparkling dust that seemed to be drawn to his glowing runes, creating an ethereal dance of light between us.
“Maybe it’s magic,” I suggested, only half-joking. “Northern and southern magic, finding balance.”
