Page 110 of Tears of Glass
“What?”
“The house in France.” His voice lowers into a deep rumble. “I know how much you loved it, so it’s yours.”
My heart, it’s stopped. “Eli, you can’t give me a house. That’s ridiculous.”
His hand catches mine, turning it so he can plant a kiss on my palm. “I know you are going to run again, Faith.” His eyes meet mine, honest and serene. “This time you’ve got somewhere to run to.”
“Eli. I told you I’m not running.”
My eyes fall back to the paper. “My French is lousy, what does this say?” I can make out Fleurs but that’s it.
His voice is soft. “It says Fleurs de la maison de verre. The house of glass flowers.” His gaze watches me closely, but I wish they wouldn’t. My eyes sting.
“You named it for my glass flowers?”
“For you.”
“And you were going to give it to me on your birthday, the birthday I didn’t know about?”
“I was going to give it to you in France. Next weekend.”
“France... and now I’ve arranged for us to go to Bowsley? Well, shit.”
His lips skim my throat, my jaw. “That was my thought precisely.”
“Let’s go now.”
His fingers are in my hair, his nose trailing along my skin, but he ducks back to look at me. “Faith, it’s midnight?”
“So?” I scramble off his lap and hold out my hand. “Come on, let’s wake up in France.”
“Faith, I’ve got so much work on.” He smiles, but it’s small and restrained.
“And tomorrow I’ll help you with whatever you need. You can invite as many ex-girlfriends as you like to Sunday lunch and we will all work. But let’s go.”
“I haven’t booked a hotel.”
I place my hands on my hips and give him the sternest look I can possibly rustle up—which isn’t stern at all and has his lips twitching. “Now, Elijah Fairclough, you had me believing you were a spontaneous kind of guy, don’t tell me you sold me a lie.”
His arms are around me, his lips on my mouth, burning and hot. “I never lie.”
I meet his gaze. He did once, but it was a lie to protect me. “Good, neither do I. And we don’t need a hotel, I’ve got a house we can stay in.”
He shakes his head, but his smile is spreading. “It doesn’t have any furniture in it.”
“It’s got a floor, right?” I slip out of his hold. “I’ll grab the duvet and pillows, we can squeeze them in the car.
He chuckles and it sends goosebumps all over my skin. “Is life with you always going to be this crazy?”
“You gave me a house. I think you’re the one who’s crazy.”
He steps up to his desk in his office area and grabs our passports that he stashed there when we last came home from a surprise getaway. I watch as he picks up another set of keys.
“What’s that?”
He turns, his grin wide and dazzling. “We won’t fit everything in the MG. We’ll have to take the Land Rover.”
I have nothing to say. Because of course he has a Land Rover just hanging around. With a shake of my head, I dash up the stairs to the bedroom and grab the linen off the bed.
