“You weren’t really supposed to guess, you know,”

There was a moment that the Ravenclaw’s bushy brows wrinkled with confusion, as he recalled exactly what she’d said and he distinctly remembered her telling him to guess. Maybe she’d just wanted him to echo a parroted “What?” he’d definitely should have decide to go with that, as Dahlia went on to explain how he’d created some social faux pas. At least he had the wherewithal to look a bit sheepish. He’d not been paying a whole lot of attention to his manners, which is why he’d not just asked her that question. Mostly he’d been sort of relieved that he’d known exactly what she was talking about after she’d started to clear it up. His guess was less for her and more for himself.

“I’m sure it was a very close decision. Are you proud of me?”


“Dahl, I’m always proud of you.” Brice told her in the same tone that he’d used to tell her that ‘of course’ just before, looking back to the oars that were in his hands skimming the water. And he was, she was a clever little witch with a brain to match her pretty face. She was stubborn but sensible, passionate and perfect. There wasn’t a thing she couldn’t do when she put her mind to it, he liked that about her.

He’d been about to start rowing again when she said his name, and that took his hazel eyes off the water as the boat tipped back and forth under her movements. He silently watched her kneel down between his knees, and in spite of his earlier thoughts, Brice had to swallow down the sudden jolt of awareness of just where exactly she was at. It helped that he had that distraction when she reached for his hands, and drew them toward her. But for the life of him he couldn’t concentrate on her words, mostly because from this vantage point he could almost look down her summery dress, so he had to keep his eyes locked on the space just between her eyebrows, if he looked at her eyes she’d be able to read what was going on in his brain, and he most certainly didn’t need her to know that it was his fondest wish at the moment to gaze about three inches below her collarbone.

“I’m sorry, darling. Do you forgive me?”


“Okay.” That word sounded so dry. His mouth felt like the Sahara Desert, all sandy and lacking any sort of moisture whatsoever. He really didn’t know what he was agreeing to, she could have just asked him to jump overboard and fetch her a lily pad with his teeth and he probably would have still agreed. What he needed was for her to just move all that hair back over her shoulder. No. No he needed to not think about that at all. Dear Merlin’s bloody pink nightie! His brain needed to crawl its way back out of the gutter. First watching her legs as she ran, and then now trying to look down her dress. He would have been ashamed of himself, if he didn’t feel like he was about to start shifting uncomfortably in the trousers he’d picked out that morning. The kiss was nice though, it pulled him back from wishing that he was wearing robes instead of the jacket he’d just removed. He couldn’t help keeping his eyes open when she did press her lips to his, hoping that he could spy where he’d thrown it, in case he needed it back with a quickness.

“Let’s find a nice little place on shore to stop,”


Her eyes were still closed as she whispered it against his lips and he felt a bit like a voyeur while he watched her lashes as she talked. He didn’t normally keep his eyes opened, but he was pulling his hand from hers to reach around back of him blindly to find that damned jacket.

“We’re far enough now that no one will see us.”
He groaned. He shouldn’t have but he did. Why did she have to say things like that when everything he was thinking at the moment hinged on them definitely not being found.

“We can find a nice shade tree, and you can lay with your head in my lap and tell me all about the books you’re reading. Hmmm?”


She smiled at him, just as he had a successful location of the thrown off piece of clothing so he could place it in his lap. He didn’t smile back, mostly because he was concentrating on not thinking of all the things that they could do when there was no chance to get caught. And damn him anyway because he’d just gotten done apologizing for that very thing!

“Unless you have a better idea…?”


“No…” He could not reach shore fast enough once she was sitting back down, he’d rowed so hard that a speedboat couldn’t have caught them, and he was jumping up and out of the craft faster than he’d ever moved in his life, almost forgetting completely about the lady that needed his help, he was halfway to those shade trees she spoke of before he remembered that she’d need a hand, and jogged back to do just that, having the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, really trying hard to look beyond her, or close his eyes if they got anywhere near her…or her cleavage…or her legs. Or really any part of her body that wasn’t her eyebrows and hairline.

He gripped her waist this time to get her from the boat to dry land. She didn’t weigh very much it was fairly easy to maneuver her about. Though, once he had her in his hands and they were spread out across her hips and then it was just such a short distance until she was in his arms, that he decided that the most idiotic thing he could do was place his mouth over hers. And yet, proving just what sort of nutter he was, Brice did just that, moving his fingers from her hips, then to her back and ushering her against him.

“Dahlia?” He barely got out the word before he was kissing her again, and his tongue was being used for much more pleasant exercise than talking. She’d said she wanted to sit under a shade tree, and without separating their mouths he started to walk backward, careful to keep his own feet on the outside of hers. Only almost tripping a time or two in his over-zealous attention he paid to her lips and his moving at the same time. It wasn’t long before his back finally hit bark, but by then, his hand was mussing up her hair, and he turned so she could have her back to it and his mouth could properly admire the skin along her throat, the hollow between her collarbones and the gentle swell below that.

“You should be proud of yourself, Dahl.” Brice didn’t quite know what to say at that moment, so he went back to their earlier conversation, since she’d seemed upset. He definitely didn’t want her upset at the moment, so his bedroom talk consisted of a halfway apology.

“You’re a smart witch.” That was murmured into her throat. “The smartest I know.” He told her, not really paying all that much attention now that he was back to her mouth.

“And beautiful, definitely that.” Should he say more, it was hard to concentrate when his fingers just wanted to tangle in her hair.

“Lovely, and cleaver and bright and poised and confident and patient and alluring and commonsensical.” He’d lost track of his thoughts and just started naming descriptors, mostly because he was pressed against her with his hand at the small of her back to pull her further forward. And that was maddening in the most pleasant of ways, and Brice didn’t even have to look up to make sure that no one was watching. It was just them, and the shade and the breeze, and his mouth tickling along the edges of her dress at her shoulder.

“You’re too good for mere mortals” He smiled against her skin, just before he decided to nip at her neck again. “Merlin, I love you.”

And then that was when what his absentminded words finally filtered through his brain. That was when there was the longest pause that he’d ever felt in his life took place, he didn’t dare look up, he didn’t even know if he could pull his face out of her neck. And he gulped, loud enough that he thought that it echoed around them.

“Olive juice.” Brice said, trying to think past what was happening just then. “Olive juice, that’s what I said. I…need to pick that up.” And then he was untangling himself with wide eyes on her.

“For my mum. Shopping, for her. Olive juice.” Maybe if he just kept saying that over and over again, it would make it true?