Page 33 of Harnessed in Gold

“Avery’s probably doing great. But Topaz?” I grin and shrug.

He laughs. “Well, get back to your seat before your boyfriend comes after me.”

I snort. “The old ladies love him.”

This makes Aaron laugh even harder. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Back at the table, I offer some of my dessert to Rime, giggling as his eyes pop on the first bite.

“That’s delicious,” he says, nearly breathless with ecstasy.

“I know, right?”

“What is it?”

Barbara interrupts, “You mean you ain’t never had a Rice Krispies Treat before?”

“No, ma’am. Not something my mam ever made me.”

“You poor thing,” I tease.

He gives me his most persuasive smile. “But you’ll make me some, won’t you, a chuisle mo chroí? Sometime soon?”

I freeze, mid-chew.

“Betts?”

“What was that you just said?”

“The Gaelic?”

“Yes.” That phrase that sounds likewish-la-ma-kree.I remember it now. It’s what Leo murmured to me when we were in the middle of?—

I choke on the bite in my mouth, wincing as it scrapes the whole way down my throat.

“A chuisle mo chroí,” Rime repeats, his accent as lilting and beautiful as Leo’s.

I whisper, “What is that? What does that mean?”

Over my head, Rime’s blue eyes cut to Barbara and Linda, then sharply back to me, wide and insistent. I’ve stepped out of character, and he’s trying to bring me back. “I’ve said it to you before, a ghrá. Don’t you remember?”

I shake my head, heart pounding in my ears. Get it together, Betts.

Barbara, bless her, intervenes. “Well, if he won’t tell you, I will.”

I round on her. “You know what it means?”

“Sure do. It’s engraved on the inside of my wedding ring.” She taps a yellowed fingernail on the gold band. “It means ‘pulse of my heart.’”

I blink at her in disbelief, not because I think she’s incorrect, but because that can’t possibly be what Leo said.

“It’s a common endearment,” she adds. “Just like a ghrá.”

My mouth forms an O, but I’m not sure any sound comes out. Pulse of my heart? What a beautiful, romantic sentiment—so beautiful and romantic that people engrave it on their wedding rings. No, Leo couldn’t have said that. He was probably just rattling off some sort of healing or calming spell. I mean, wouldn’t allGaelic words sound the same to me? All soft and burr-y and musical?

Not that I care. It could’ve been the Gettysburg Address for all it matters now.

Except—I’m sure one of those words waschuisle, because I remember thinking,Wish? What does he wish?Because in that moment, I would’ve given him anything he asked for.