“Teaching you chemistry?”

He shakes his head like he is arguing with a voice inside his head but his dimply smile is not listening.

“Almost there,” he says, taking an unmarked exit. There is only thick forest around as we start winding up the Cascades. The pressure of the ascent builds in my ears. He drives faster but there’s no anxiety in me now. Only exhilaration. Suddenly, we break through the forest onto an open field on the highest hilltop. The Rover comes to a screeching halt.

In the deafening silence, I press my nose against the window, squinting so I miss nothing. Moonlight floods the low grass, the soft rise of the peak, the contours of the craggy mountains above—turning them all silver. There is a soft glow some distance away, streaming between the sentinel trunks of ten or so evergreens.

Aiden rolls down the window. At first, I shiver. The winds are free up here. Then a sultry, floral scent stuns me. I sniff the air, trying to match it to any fragrance I know but cannot. It’s somewhere between gardenia, rose, coriander and brown sugar.

I turn to look at Aiden. He is facing me, his elbow propped on the steering wheel, his index finger pressing into his temple. There is a powerful emotion in his eyes, something I have no name for. His smile is soft. It hangs on his lips like the moonlight hangs on his lashes: enough to brighten them, but not enough to dim him. The tip of his middle finger brushes absentmindedly over his lower lip.

“Where are we?” I whisper.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Starry Skies

“I’ve never brought anyone here.” His voice is low, rough as though chafing against unspoken words.

Instantly, I know where we are. My pulse stutters, then starts throbbing, almost painfully. “This is your Alone Place!”

He smiles, eclipsing the moon, the hill and even the astonishing fragrance in the air. He looks so beautiful that I close my eyes. For only a few seconds. When I open them, his face is inches from mine. “I think you have wanted to see it since the Rose Garden.”

I nod, not exactly speechless. For once, the words are there but I’m having a tip-of-the-tongue moment. A stutter. Not in my pulse or in my brain, but somewhere deeper. So I kiss him hard, like the words I am searching for are in his mouth. He unbuckles my seat belt and rips me from my seat onto his lap. His fingers twist in my hair, pulling me close to him—so close that I feel his heartbeat against my corset.

He ends the kiss abruptly, holding my face in his hot hands. Then he smiles the full dimple-and-scar smile and reaches in the backseat, bringing out a soft cream blanket. He throws it over my shoulders.

“Come!” His voice is exhilarated.

We topple out and I clutch the blanket around me. Why did I need a dress and heels for this? Then again, we dress up for man-made affairs. Why shouldn’t we do the same for natural wonders?

“Look,” he says, pointing at the sky.

“Oh!” I gasp, gazing at the thousands of stars twinkling above us. Ursa Minor, Ursa Major, Draco, Cassiopeia—all closer, brighter.

“Of cloudless climes and starry skies,” he recites slowly.

“Oh!” I breathe again in understanding.

He scoops me in his arms easily—chuckling at my squeal—and starts heading to the edge of the cliff. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. It gallops in my ear just like mine. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

In fourteen heartbeats, he stops walking and sets me on my feet. “And now look here,” he says, turning me in his arms.

I follow his gaze…and scream. My own heart plummets in the ravenous depths below. We are at the start of a thin strip of land jutting out into the sky, nothing but air and stars around us.

“You’re okay,” he soothes, his arms tightening like steel around me. Then, he grins. “Hydrogen, 1.008. Helium, 4.003.”

A shaky laugh bursts from my lips.

“You’re not afraid of heights?”

“Not with you,” I say because right now, I’m afraid of nothing. Nothing except losing him.

He smiles. “Then welcome to my other home.”

He walks slowly onto the strip, holding me tight. He sits away from the edge, cocooning me in his arms and legs and the soft blanket. I grip his neck, tucking my head in his chest again. We stay like this an immeasurable moment. Minutes, maybe even hours. I try to commit everything to memory. For once, I don’t want to photograph even a blade of grass. This place seems so intimate that any eyes other than ours—even artificial camera eyes—would spoil it.

“What do you think about when you come here?” I say after a while.

“Everything. This is where Hale Holdings was born. Where most of my decisions are made. And since I saw your painting, I’ve thought only of you.”

I almost take off the edge and start flying. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he whispers in my ear. I shiver.

“I’ve only thought of you too.” My face burns as I admit this out loud.

He doesn’t say anything. The silence makes me shiver in a different way so I start talking. “Do you come here often?”

“About twice a week.” He tears his eyes from the sky and looks at me. “Sometimes I sleep here.”

“S-sleep here?” I look at the little meadow behind us.

He nods. “The ground still feels more natural at times.”

I grip him closer, trying to repel the image of him on cold ground. “I like it better when you sleep next to me.”

His muscles flex around me. “That can’t happen again, Elisa,” he says in a low voice.

My heartbeat stops, then starts racing in terror. “What?” My voice trembles.

He cups my cheek. “I can’t take that risk. What if the next nightmare is not as mild?”

Mild? That was mild? “I don’t care. I want to fall asleep next to you…see your face when I wake up.” I shut my mouth because my voice is approaching near hysteria.

“If you wake up.” His voice is hard.

I need to move away from this. Right now. “What is that light behind the trees?”

His eyebrows arch in surprise at my sudden change in direction. Then he shakes his head and smiles. “Well, now, I’m glad you asked, Elisa. Come, let me show you.” He emphasizes the word as though it should mean something more.

He rises, pulling me up. I start to stumble in my heels but he picks me up and strides across the meadow toward the soft glow in the trees. A few more days with him and I bet walking will start feeling alien. Good riddance.

“How often do you work out?” I ask, fascinated by the fact that I can barely feel him move.

“About two hours a day. I’m a wimp by my gunny’s standards.”

I laugh at the ludicrousness of Aiden as a wimp. “How do you work out if you don’t like anyone sneaking behind you?”

“I have my own gym.”

See? Simple. “What was your rank by the way?”

“Lieutenant. Now, close your eyes,” he orders in a tone befitting his grade. I obey but open wide the rest of my senses. The stunning scent is getting stronger. Twigs crack under his quiet feet. He comes to a stop and I feel his lips press gently on my eyelids.

“Open,” he says.

I open my eyes. And they almost fly off my face. My breath whooshes out of me, sharper than the hilltop wind.

“Oh!” I gasp for the third time this evening.

We are on a small, round paddock, the evergreens surrounding us. In the center is a pergola tent. The white curtains are drawn but something glimmers and flickers behind them. I’m having another tip-of-the-tongue moment so I point at the tent, my finger tapping the air impatiently.

Aiden laughs, pulling me closer to his body. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, and starts marching with his infallible Marine step. At the tent, he sets me down and opens the curtains.

“After you,” he whispers in that way that means for you.

I step inside…and freeze. Even the “oh” that is singing in my brain stops on my lips. I watch the impossible sight, unable to blink or breathe. Flameless candles. A low sini table made of wood. Covered silver plates. Ivory silk pillows for chairs. A small polished dance floor. And everywhere else, from the table top to the clusters of crystal vases surrounding the floor, are hundreds upon hundreds of the rose I never thought I would see. Aeternum romantica.