Page 47 of The Scent of Intuition
“It doesn’t take very long to follow through once your heart is set on the right person,” Pippa said.
She didn’t want to admit her cousin was right. Instead, she pushed that suggestion away. “Do you remember how we put curtains over our heads and danced in the nursery?” Bea asked Pippa.
“We pretended to be brides and danced to our own song.” She gave her a wistful smile.
Bea felt the tension of the frown on her forehead. “How was it possible that we thought about everything from the dresses to the cakes to the music and even the chandeliers?”
“You planned the chandeliers for your wedding?”
Bea narrowed her gaze. “You haven’t planned the chandeliers foryourwedding?” Her expression was a mix of disbelief and intrigue. Perhaps she had plans to travel and strict criteria for a husband, but what did that have to do with her dream wedding? Some women left every little detail for the last minute, but Bea preferred not to leave anything to chance. What good were the flower arrangements, cakes, or even the bride’s dress if the chandeliers didn’t put it all in the best light?
“Sprays of white and yellow ranunculi are complementary to the atmosphere in the ballroom at the estate.” She meant their grandfather’s country home, where she and Pippa had always planned to have their weddings.
“You truly have thought of everything.” Pippa chuckled.
Except for the groom.
“Of course, I did! Venetian glass, white candles reflected in polished brass and carved drip panes shaped like tulips are bunched together at the center with golden brass bows from which crystals fall. The vines ofemaille—the divine French enamel—twist around the center, and each chandelier resembles a bouquet of tulips in the morning, with the crystals dripping like dew into the sparkling sun. Fresh flowers draped over the brass branches.”
Pippa raised her eyebrows. “That’s very detailed. But what about your criteria for a husband who will whisk you away to Transylvania?”
Bea’s heart dropped. It was just a broad stroke of the detail in her imagination. She just couldn’t quite picture the groom and his far-away castle in the Southern Carpathian Mountains. She knew exactly that the height of the castle, the trees in the surrounding countryside, and even the distance alone would suffice to let her breathe away from the Ton, away from her reputation. She could be free and herself.
That’s what she wanted. Her freedom by way of a groom who’d sweep her off her feet.
Preferably before her parents returned.
And yet Prince Stan’s image was not the one in her mind. It was Alfie.
“I want to do as I please, not merely plan it.” The words spilled out before she could understand the depth of their meaning. “I can see him so clearly!” She let go of the teacup and put her hands in the air as if she held something between herhands. His eyes rose before her, along with the warmth of his mouth, his taste, the scent of him, the feel of his rough, shaved skin against her own as she pressed her lips to his. “I just want to grab his face and kiss him. I want to hold him until this… this starvation in my belly goes away.” Surprised at her declaration, Bea blinked. It was as if she’d opened her eyes to the truth for the first time and really seen it.
Bea sighed. She’d opened up more than she’d intended, but this was Pippa after all. She’d always kept her secrets, and if Bea kept this growing and overwhelming feeling locked in her chest any longer, it would burst open like a cabinet overstuffed with sparkling crystalware. Because it felt like that—sparkling rainbows reflected on shiny delicate vessels, and the idea Alfie could fill them with effervescent sweetness was like wine that went to her head. But at the touch of the wrong man, Bea feared the crystals would shatter into lumps of sand on the ground. “Do you know what I mean?”
Pippa pursed her lips and swirled her cake fork in some leftover whipped cream on the plate before her. “Perhaps.”
Bea gripped her hand, and Pippa dropped the fork. “Tell me!”
“When you say you want to feelhimbecause of the deep hunger, is it desire you speak of?”
“How wouldIknow?” Bea asked, after a pause to consider the matter.
Pippa cracked her neck. “I must say, I never imagined to be the one to tellyouabout making love. It always struck me that you’d be the first one to…”
Bea tightened her grasp on Pippa’s arm. “You’ve already…?” She gave Pippa a once-over. “With Nick?”
Pippa nodded. She blushed. Not in a flattering way, but she turned red like a lobster in boiling water.
“Tell. Me. Everything.”
Cakes were forgotten, the wedding plans had quickly turned to something much more decadent, and Bea’s curiosity prickled with what she now knew to calldesire. Time passed—Bea wasn’t sure how much—but the whipped cream had grown soggy, and the sponge cake had dried unappetizingly. She wasn’t hungry anyway, not like that.
“I want it all,” Bea mumbled when Pippa finished her clumsy explanation. “All of that!” Then Bea shook her head as if she had to shoo a fly away, “Not with Nick, of course.”
It hadn’t been long, and apparently, Pippa thought she was still learning from Nick.
Interesting.
Pippa said she felt like she couldn’t take the pleasure, but there was a point to push past, and then it was more spectacular than anything she’d ever imagined.
