Chapter 9: Overruled

We walked the last twenty feet to the gatehouse in the snow, and neither of us hurried.

The power was out.

Tobias lit the woodstove, and then three candles, and the little kitchen turned gold.

I stood in the middle of it in my red dress, with snow melting in my hair.

"You should sleep," he said. "I'll take the couch."

"Tobias."

He turned around.

"You told me nothing happens while I'm married," I said. "It's your rule. You made it in your kitchen, with my wrist under the tap."

"I did."

"The papers are filed. Ninety days, and a judge signs. I'm not waiting for a judge to tell me what I want."

He stood very still.

"I'm overruling your rule," I said.

"Laurel, it's the dress, and the room tonight. You walked in there and took everything back. That does something to a person."

"I know what it does. I've wanted this for a week, and the dress has nothing to do with it."

"A week."

"Since the cold water on my wrist," I said. "Maybe since the porch."

"And now?"

"I'd rather say it out loud than think it for ninety days."

He crossed the kitchen in two steps.

His hands came up and held my face, rough and careful, and he looked at me hard.

"Last chance," he said. "Tell me to go sleep on the couch."

"Kiss me."

He did.

It was slow for only a moment.

Then his mouth opened mine and I made a sound I had not made in years.

He backed me against the table, and the map slid under the glass.

I got my hands into his hair.

I pulled his tie loose and threw it, and I got his shirt open with fingers that didn't want to work.

His chest was warm and hard, with a scar low on his left side and a thin line of dark hair.

I put my mouth on his throat and felt him groan.

"You said slowly," I said against his skin. "You promised the dress."

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