Chapter 7
Lists
It was a second before I realized that something was different – the biker was actually shrinking under the phantom's gaze. He was seeing it too.
"Edward?"
He didn't respond, never taking his eyes off the prey, which is what the man suddenly seemed to be as he flushed bright red and paled in quick succession before making one last attempt at bravado.
"Hey, I saw her first." The words sounded challenging, but the faint quiver in his voice ruined the effect.
"I very much doubt that. But this is the last. You will not look at her or speak to her again. Ever."
It wasn't a question and the person it was directed to didn't even pretend to take it that way. "Whatever you say, buddy. I'm outta here. No problemo."
He attempted to kick the bike into action and failed, whether out of sheer terror or an actual mechanical problem, I couldn't tell. He ended up hunched awkwardly over the handlebars shoving it down the road at a pretty good speed for a human.
"What are you doing here?" I said to Edward's back, as he watched his victim stumble out of sight.
He turned and his expression was black, eyes blazing, his jaw tight.
What was he mad at me for? I hadn't done a damn thing. I whirled and stomped off in the direction of the Cullens' drive only yards away.
He waited just long enough for us to be out of sight from the road and he was beside me, gripping my elbow, forcing me to stop.
"What the hell were you doing back there?"
I jerked my arm out of his grasp, relieved that I was still strong enough to do it. "Handling the situation. In case you've forgotten, I can take perfectly good care of myself now."
"Oh, I can see that. Letting some lowlife spew innuendos at you."
"I wasn't letting him do anything," I said through gritted teeth. "I was just walking down a public highway, okay?"
"The thought of anyone talking to you like that . . . "
"Words, Edward. They were just words. If he'd tried anything, I could have taken care of it."
"Exactly what were you going to do? Break his neck in full sight of every driver on the road? We wouldn't last long with that kind of display."
"Just because you overreact to everything, doesn't mean I'm about to. I wasn't going to do anything that extreme. If he touched me, I'd just blow him off, that's all."
"That would go unnoticed," he fumed, then switched to a different register, imitating a hypothetical human, "'A big brute attacked little Bella Swan out on the highway, but of course she shrugged him off.'"
"Cullen," I snarled under my breath.
"Why would you even . . . engage him in conversation . . . at all?"
"Because I sort of know him. I think I gave him the wrong idea one night and I –"
"What?" He'd moved in front of me, blocking my path, and from the look on his face even my newborn powers weren't likely to get me past him.
Oh no, here we go, I thought. "It happened a long time ago – when you were gone. I went for a ride on his bike."
Edward shook his head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing." His tone was glacial, his glare still scorching. "Reckless. Stupid."
"I've told you about the hallucinations. I just did it so I could see you – sort of – and hear your voice."
"You realize you could easily have been raped or killed?"
I knew better than to mention that such possibilities hadn't really carried much weight with me back then. "I wasn't. All right? Why are we fighting about things that never even happened?"
He moved aside, and we both started walking again. Stomping was more like it, not along the regular course of the driveway, but weaving in and out of the underbrush beside it, subconsciously making the journey longer. Apparently neither one of us was in a hurry to get within earshot of the rest of the family. Nobody else needed to hear this charming conversation.
"You're unbelievable," he hissed, raking his hand through his hair.
"And you're overprotective."
"There's no such thing as overprotective where you're concerned. You're practically protection-proof."
"Then maybe you shouldn't waste so much time trying." I snapped. "And exactly when were you going to tell me you're leaving tomorrow?"
If I'd thought going on the offensive would take him off guard, I was wrong. He simply strode ahead, seething, and refused to look at me. "When I had a chance to talk to you."
"You're talking to me now."
"When I had a chance to talk to you . . . without . . . wanting to put you under lock and key."
"Great. So tell me again why I'm running around town trying to convince people I'm not in a controlling relationship."
I figured that would either make him madder or maybe, just maybe coax a smile, but neither happened. His stony expression didn't change and his tone was still cold, but he'd dropped the sarcasm when he spoke. "I said I wanted to do it, not that I would."
We huffed along in silence for a while, trampling the stupid ferns that somehow managed to be dripping wet despite the fact that it hadn't rained all day. "How did you find me anyway?"
"Alice." Terse and to the point. Why did I even bother to ask?
"Busybody," I mumbled darkly. Let him decide who I meant.
We went on like that for a mile or more before I couldn't help but ask, "What time tomorrow?"
"Early."
The word landed like a stone in the pit of my stomach. I could feel the few hours we had left crumbling away, while we wasted time being mad at each other. At the same moment, I realized that the fury he'd been radiating my direction had finally dissipated.
I might have known it had only changed direction.
"It always comes back to my actions," he said at last. There was no self-pity in his voice, just a bleak fatalism that I hadn't heard in a long time. "If I hadn't left you so callously, if I hadn't been so stupid as to believe you'd be fine with it . . ."
"Edward, don't." This time I was the one to place my hand on his arm, stopping him. "We were both stupid, okay? I shouldn't have been so quick to believe you'd stopped caring, but it's over. It doesn't matter anymore."
"All those times you put your life at risk . . . none of them would have happened if it wasn't for my blind assumption that I'm always right."
I hated it when he was mad at me, but I really, really hated it when he got mad at himself, mainly because I fought back, but he never did. Why couldn't he see that he was his own worst enemy?
"Those were my choices. You didn't make them. I did, and I can't even say I'm sorry I did, because they kept a part of you with me. That's the only thing I can't live without."
He turned to me, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression had softened, the hard gold melting into honey. "I don't ever mean to make you feel that I don't trust you or believe in you," he said huskily.
"I know that. We wouldn't be here if we didn't believe in each other."
We stood there quietly, our gazes locked, while all the priorities shifted slowly back into place, and I think he was about to take me in his arms, but our meandering had brought us back to the edge of the drive, and a car was approaching from the direction of the house.
Rosalie pulled to a stop and the window shot open. "Alice wants to know what's taking you so long. She needs Edward to go to the lumber yard."
Edward was back to glowering. I was pretty sure he was about to gift her with a few sharp comments, but she held her hand up defensively. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I'm off to find a 400 B16.47 flange, whatever that may be."
She continued on down the drive, raising the window back up as she went. I thought she might have floored it if she'd had any idea how recently Edward had gotten his temper under control.
I sighed. "Maybe that's a good thing – a little physical exercise to work off the tension."
"I can think of better uses for it," he said, managing the beginnings of a smile. "But not when my tyrant of a sister is looking for us."
"Omigod, you're right. I believe her when she says she'd never intentionally spy on us – like in the cottage, but if she assumes we're just doing something boring and happens to peek . . . do you think we should stop sneaking off at odd times?"
"Do you?" His eyebrows arched.
"Not a chance."
"Good answer." He took my hand and just the feel of his skin against mine blew away the unpleasantness like so much smoke. "How did you know I was leaving tomorrow?"
"Esme mentioned it. She didn't realize you hadn't told me."
He nodded as we came in sight of the house. "There's something I need to help her with as well. It's going to be a busy day."
Subtext: there'd be little chance for us to steal any time for ourselves. "Is it my imagination or does Esme have a secret?"
"Only from you," he chuckled. "Don't worry, it's for everyone actually. But it's impossible to keep secrets in this house, and she'd like someone to be pleasantly surprised."
"I can do surprised, maybe even pleasantly, as long as it's not aimed only at me."
"Pleasant surprises aren't weapons, Bella. They're given, not aimed. What's it going to take to rid you of your phobia?"
"I don't know. You're the one with the medical degrees."
"Fine," he said in an ominous tone. "Prepare to confront your fears. Since I'm going to be in New York anyway, I might as well pay a visit to Tiffany. I wonder how many purchases it will take to cure you."
"Don't you dare," I shot back, though I could tell he was teasing.
"You must be the one of the few women – human or otherwise – to actually cringe at the thought of expensive presents."
"Never been normal," I reminded him.
"What would you prefer in the way of a souvenir – a plastic Statue of Liberty perhaps?"
"Nothing. That's the point. I don't want you spending one minute more than necessary back there. No shopping for souvenirs, no claiming you're easily distracted or I'll . . . I'll . . ."
"You'll what?"
"I'll put your Vanquish up on eBay."
Edward grinned. "Jasper's right, there's nothing more vicious than a newborn."
As if his name had summoned him, Jazz stepped out the front door, looking down at us apologetically. "My orders are not to come back without Edward."
"Could I interest you in deserting?" I called to him.
"No, ma'am. My allegiance is to my commanding officer." He said it loud enough for Alice to hear, but one corner of his mouth shot up in a sly grin. We all knew he was the last person who could put anything over on Alice "If I fail in my duty, it could be Chickamauga all over again."
"I thought Gettysburg was the bloodiest battle of the war." Edward said.
"Yankee victory," Jazz snarled dismissively.
"You go ahead," I said. "I need to put my car away."
Edward squeezed my hand, brushed his lips over my hair and went to join his brother.
The clouds were still piling up, but so far it hadn't dared to rain on the Ferrari. I pulled it carefully into the garage. Big as this space was, the Cullens had managed to fill it up with vehicles. There'd barely been enough room for Edward's latest addition, the Ducati.
I turned off the engine and wondered if that could be Esme's surprise – a bigger garage or a second one. I hoped she didn't think the cottage needed improvement; it was perfect the way it was, and there were more than enough bedrooms in the main house, considering no one ever used them for sleeping.
I puzzled over the possibilities while I took the groceries up to the kitchen and put them away, then left a candle in each of the girls' rooms.
I tried my best the rest of the day to find one of those special moments to sneak off with Edward again. I knew he'd be watching for an opportunity too, but it refused to present itself.
As an employer, Alice didn't offer much in the way of perks. There was probably a state law against working your employees without a break, but I doubted it would apply here: workers who never tired, never had to eat or go to the bathroom. I thought I'd been glad to leave those annoying little necessities behind, but now I could see they had their place in the realm of plausible excuses.
As the afternoon wore on, I got more and more antsy. When the boys returned from the lumberyard, they proceeded to crash and bang around the basement. I could hear them, Edward most clearly, as they argued and laughed, and usually I found that comforting – just to know he was nearby. But for some reason I was plagued with the physical need to touch him.
Maybe it was because of our fight this morning or the fact that he'd be going away so soon. Or maybe I was just now realizing how often we did usually steal time for ourselves during the day. Withdrawal was every bit as unpleasant as it was cracked up to be.
When I entered Renesmee's room, the jacks tournament was well underway. "I forgot how small her hands are," Rosalie said. "We've had to change the rules a little, but she's fast, very fast."
They persuaded me to join in. I was so used to thinking I'd be awful at anything requiring eye-hand coordination that for a few minutes I was as clumsy as I expected to be, but then I felt that new sharper focus kicking in, and we had a real game going.
Alice found us sitting on the floor, while our hands moved in a frantic blur till we all collapsed in giggles. "How are things in the construction zone?" I asked.
"Crowded and very loud. I needed a break from all that testosterone."
"You came to the right place," Rosalie said. "This is an all-girls game, and size doesn't seem to be an advantage. You're welcome to take a turn."
"It does look like fun," she sighed, "but I'm a little busy right now."
"You think that's it, Nessie?" Rosalie asked with a wink. "Or maybe Aunt Alice doesn't like games that move too fast for her visions to be any help."
"Daddy says cheating's wrong." Renesmee informed us.
"Oh," Rosalie scoffed, "Like your daddy nev –"
"Rose!" Alice and I warned in unison.
To her credit Rose recovered quickly. "Like your daddy says, cheating's wrong, but if you stick with us girls, you'll never have to resort to it. So what do you have to do, Alice?"
"I want to compare these receipts to the lists we made to see if we've forgotten anything before the stores close."
"I'll help," I offered, hopping up. We left Renesmee and Rosalie to continue their game and took the paperwork to the dining room where we spent the better part of an hour trying to match the cryptic cash register shorthand to our hand-written items.
Once Alice was satisfied that we had everything we needed, she vanished downstairs. I was tempted to follow her, but there probably wasn't room for another body, however small.
I played with Renesmee and the two of us joined Rosalie, who seldom got custody of the remote, for a documentary on penguins. It was pretty darned adorable. Renesmee sat rapt, hardly blinking. Even Rose appeared totally involved, which surprised me because I knew she usually reserved her attention for subjects that related to her in some obvious way.
So what was my problem? Who thinks about sex when they're watching cute little birds waddle around an ice floe? Because that's what it had come to. My longing to simply see Edward in this frustratingly Edwardless day, had morphed into more specific fantasies in which just seeing or talking to him was no longer enough.
When the show ended, I excused myself to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would cool my libido. The house had grown darker, as more and more clouds squeezed into the sky, until it was hard to tell if day had slipped into night.
Esme had begun flipping on lights, and still the clatter in the basement went on. I stepped outside, amazed that it wasn't raining, though the sky was black and swollen with it, and trudged off across the lawn.
Hadn't I been worried that as a newborn vampire, I might not want Edward as badly as I had before? Well, everybody said I wasn't a typical newborn, but was this really normal – this constant fixation on getting as close to him as it was physically possible to get?
A thrill ran through me, head to toe, just thinking about the concept. Maybe I was a hussy, that funny old-fashioned word Edward had teased me with yesterday. The notion triggered a little mini-epiphany in my head – why I was uncomfortable with these rampant desires.
We might be close in age, but we'd been raised in entirely different worlds. I grew up when having a satisfying sex life was something most people wanted. From what I'd read of Edward's time, women weren't even supposed to know about sex, much less enjoy it. That was the prerogative of men, who married good girls, expecting them to endure the ultimate indignity for the sake of having children, and then ran around with bad ones – like dancehall floozies and actresses– who had somehow caught on that the whole thing could be fun. For that, they were ostracized from society.
What a crock.
But what if that double standard had been planted early in Edward's psyche? What if he looked at me one day and decided he'd married a strumpet instead of a fine woman like his mother? Yes, I'd been the aggressor through much of our relationship, but his denial had made sense then – at least to him.
Now that we were married, he'd been nothing but pleased when I took the initiative. Hadn't he? It seemed to me our desire was always mutual, no matter who started it, but would there come a day when he'd perceive my eagerness as evidence that I didn't belong on the pedestal where he'd placed me, but in some seedy music hall where men spat on the floor and yelled lewd comments at the stage?
Arghh. I was driving myself bonkers, and the clouds had picked this moment to let loose, large frigid drops that promised to turn into something worse. I turned back to the house, blaming my raging hormones for creating problems where they showed no signs of existing.
"The boys are finishing up in the basement," Esme greeted me. "It shouldn't be long. They really did a terrific job."
"That must mean they actually followed the plans you drew up?" I asked, shaking the raindrops from my hair.
"Amazingly, yes." She laughed. "You know, if you like, you're welcome to leave Nessie with us again tonight."
I hesitated. Was my mood that obvious? Could she tell how desperate I was to be alone with Edward? I hoped I wasn't all that transparent, but having a mother-in-law who was sensitive to my feelings wasn't exactly a bad thing. "Thanks, Esme," I said finally, "but I'd just like for the three of us to be together tonight – in our own little home."
"I understand completely," she said. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you wait for Edward and I'll take Nessie down to the cottage and get her ready for bed before this storm gets any worse."
"Are you sure? Don't you have things to do?"
"Nothing as enjoyable as that. Carlisle's needed at the hospital tonight, so really I'm completely free, and she's anxious to show me the new furniture in her dollhouse."
"That's weird, isn't it? How new pieces just keep showing up at random?"
"Very mysterious. She thinks it's magic."
"I wonder if that's good. She really should be thanking whoever's gone to all this trouble."
"Nonsense. Children need magic at her age – whatever that age may be exactly," she amended ruefully. "It stimulates imagination and creativity."
"You're a really creative person, Esme. Does that mean you had an active imagination when you were little?"
"Afraid so. I'll have you know I spent an entire year searching for the secret passage that led from our house to the Emerald City."
"Were you disappointed when you didn't find it?" I asked.
"What makes you think I didn't?" She laughed and gave me a hug. "I'll go get Nessie."
And just like that Esme shot to the top of my list of suspects for Furniture Buyer Extraordinaire. She could easily have placed the package under the dining room table, as well as the one in the drawer here at the house. Of course, she had a key for the cottage.
I ticked off three other finds that she could feasibly have planted. Then my theory came tumbling down. The one Renesmee had found by a rock when she was playing hide and seek. Esme hadn't been in on that game. She'd never left the house and had no way of knowing where the players would go.
I was working backward from the hide-and-seek incident to see which of the participants could have been responsible for the other presents, when Esme returned with my daughter, bundled into a yellow mackintosh and boots.
"Do you know what you look like?" I teased her, as I kissed her goodnight, "Your rubber ducky." She was still chortling musically when they plunged out into the rain, Esme running so effortlessly and gracefully with her precious burden that it almost seemed she darted between the drops.
Nearly an hour had passed, an hour while I waited impatiently for Edward with images of him assaulting my one-track mind, when Esme called my cell phone.
"Tell Edward he doesn't need to hurry down for story time. She's out like a light, and I'll be perfectly happy to sit here all night long. Do you know, watching someone sleep is really rather fascinating?"
"So I've heard," I told her. "Thanks, Esme."
A few minutes later, the boys finally emerged from the hellhole/museum that is the Cullens' basement. Of course, I only saw one of them. I'd prepared myself for the jolt but it came anyway. His clothes were filthy, his hair sprinkled with sawdust. He looked glorious.
I fought the urge to fling myself at him, afraid of appearing too strumpety, even when his smile flashed in my direction. He came over and perched on the arm of the couch where I was sitting with Madame Bovary unread on my lap. I expected a kiss or at least that he'd put his arm around me, but that didn't happen.
Instead, he rubbed his hands abstractedly on his thighs. There was something odd in his expression even as his voice held its familiar velvety warmth. "I'm sorry I couldn't be with you more today. Were you bored?"
"No," I answered hurriedly. "I've been fine. Your mom took Renesmee down to the cottage. She's already fast asleep."
"I'm sorry I missed her."
"Esme said you really did a good job on the darkroom. I hope Alice appreciates all the hard work."
"Oh, I do! I do!" The tyrant in question danced into the room, her perfect face a beacon of pure joy. "It's completely ready for the equipment. Oh, I have the best brothers in the whole wide world!"
"Yeah, thanks for noticing." Emmett grinned before booming, "Rose, where are you, babe? I need a shower!"
"Are you ready to leave?" Edward asked quietly.
"Sure." I jumped up and headed for the door, hyper-aware of him close behind me.
We stepped into a raging downpour that even Forks could be proud of. I hardly felt it, too surprised when Edward didn't take my hand as usual. He wasn't even looking at me, his mouth set in a determined line. Without a word, he took off for the first dense grove of trees, and all I could do was follow.
He stopped there. Still silent. Still keeping his distance. My stomach began tying itself into knots. Something was very wrong. This was too much like another time, a time I still couldn't think of without feeling physically ill.
"Edward, what's the matter," I blurted, unable to bear the suspense. "Are you still mad at me about this morning?"
"Mad?" His eyes flicked over me briefly. "No, I'm not mad."
Of course, he wasn't. We'd always argued – from the very beginning, but it never meant anything. Our angry words were like choppy waves on the surface of a calm, fathomless sea that nothing could disturb. But if not that, what?
"Well, something's obviously wrong. You've got to tell me."
He didn't respond, didn't even look at me, which only infused my next attempt with a note of panic. "Please, whatever it is, I need to know."
"Even if it destroys your favorable image of me?"
"Nothing can do that, and you know it. Come on, you're scaring me."
"I'm scaring you?" His laugh was sharp and without humor. "I scare myself. You're so sure I have some kind of preternatural control over my baser instincts. Sometimes I believe it myself, but it's an illusion, I assure you."
What was he talking about? An urge to kill that wretched biker this morning? I'd felt a little of that myself, but neither one of us had acted on it.
"Edward, I'm not budging until you tell me exactly what you're thinking."
"Be careful what you ask for," he said blackly. "What I'm thinking . . . what I can't get out of my mind . . . what I need . . . is to throw you down in this godforsaken mud and possess you in every way imaginable, and my imagination has been alarmingly active all day long."
He said other things too – words like "weak", "despicable" and "poor excuse for a husband", but I scarcely heard them. I could only gape at him, at the raw emotion in his face. Whatever I'd expected, it wasn't this.
With a gasp, I closed the distance between us, molding my body to his as I'd longed to do all day, whispering "yes, yes, please yes" into his open mouth.
His groan sent tremors racing through every cell in my body. Locking me to him, he propelled me backwards, deeper into the woods. Heedless, we slammed into trees, their trunks vibrating from the impact.
Smaller ones snapped and saplings bent double in the onslaught, as we slipped and slid over the mossy stones, never falling, never breaking the frenetic kiss that bound us as if we were intent on devouring each other.
My frantic fingers dug into his neck, his shoulders. If he'd been human, he would have been drenched in blood, and for the first time the full meaning of what we were washed over me. We could do anything we wanted to each other. No pain. No damage.
Something savage had been loosed in both of us, a primitive need that knew no human limitations and required no thought. There was no surrender in giving into it. Instead, an immense power seemed to rip through me, bent on one goal – total gratification of all the senses. I saw it reflected in Edward's darkened eyes – the hunger, as his fingers twisted into my hair.
This was the frenzy he'd talked about. Pure need and ecstatic sensation, unbridled lust – not for blood, but for each other. To anyone watching, it might have looked – and sounded – like a struggle to the death, but it was the opposite, a drive to ignite the life force in each other and be fused in the resulting flames.
Earth and sky changed places so many times, I lost all sense of direction. The only constant was Edward, and he was everywhere I'd ever longed for or needed him to be. Our guttural cries were lost in the general mayhem, yet somehow the broken words he whispered, which should have been swallowed up by the storm, rang crystal clear.
I never felt the pounding rain or the sharp branches whipping at my skin, yet his slightest touch shook me to the core. Flying, falling – none of it mattered. The only gravitational pull I answered to was his and that with a fierce, hot joy no storm could penetrate.
Time and order had gone the way of up and down so long ago that it was a while before it came to me that I was cradled in soft earth, that the thunder was receding with the last exquisite ripples gripping my body, that I was locked safely in my lover's arms as he murmured soft shushing sounds in my ear.
I couldn't move and didn't want to. It was enough to savor his weight pressed into me, his fingers stroking my temple in a soothing motion.
Hmm, I thought absently, I must have been making noise again, and now that Mother Nature had stopped her infernal racket someone with supernatural senses might actually hear me.
I was pretty sure there'd been a lot of sounds earlier – primal ones, masked by the thunder. By contrast, it was very quiet now with only a pattering drizzle to break the stillness.
I'd been surprised and embarrassed the first time I'd realized how vocal I could be in the midst of our lovemaking, but Edward had only smiled, saying, "I like your noises. They tell me you're paying attention."
Now he raised his head to look at me, the planes and shadows of his face breathtaking even in the darkness. "You're all right?" It was a question, but apparently the answer was written all over me, because his expression relaxed.
"Very." I answered, managing a smile, though I'd been pretty convinced none of my muscles would ever function again.
"Have I mentioned how much I love you?"
"I think it came up a time or two." My voice sounded raspy, but I struggled to put my dreamlike impressions into words before they drifted away. "Edward, the things you said – I think I saw your voice, and I could hear what your hands were saying when they touched me."
Now that I'd said it out loud, I expected him to laugh, but instead he brushed his lips gently back and forth across mine. "Good, because I believe I tasted your soul." He paused to kiss me slowly and thoroughly, before adding, "May I apologize now?"
"What? No, absolutely not! I'm not sure what that was, but it could be the most incredible thing I've ever experienced. I was so ready for that. It was like you'd been reading my mind all day – except for the part where you tried not to do it."
"You already have a number of reasons to hate me, which you've chosen to overlook. I didn't want to add a lack of self-discipline to the list."
"Oh, Edward." The knowledge that he could worry about something like that, even with this latest proof of how perfectly in tune we were with each other's needs, made my heart ache. I searched my mind for a way to shoo his entrenched pessimism back to the shadowy past where it belonged.
"As that renowned psychiatrist Rosalie Cullen could explain to you," I said, "it's called projection. You're the only one who judges you that harshly, nobody else, and I so the-opposite-of-hate every single wonderful thing about you, that I can't even tell you. Besides, if what I felt tonight was anything like the pleasure you would have gotten from drinking my blood, then I'm flabbergasted you didn't do it the first time we met."
"I considered it," he said with a wry twist of his lips. "It couldn't have come close, believe me. Over and over again, you amaze me. Your response . . . your . . ."
"Aggression?" I supplied. "Please, tell me that doesn't bother you. I was realizing today that when you were growing up nice women didn't act that way."
"When I was human, people weren't comfortable putting any of their emotions on display, not like they do today."
"Well, I can relate to that," I admitted. "Maybe that's what attracted you to me. I reminded you of girls you knew back then."
"If I start listing all the things that attracted me to you," he said gently, "I'll miss my flight tomorrow."
"I should be so lucky," I sighed. "Just so you don't think I'm a nymphomaniac or something."
He frowned in an effort to distract me from the smile he was fighting. "I think for that to be true, your desires might be directed less exclusively. But if it really concerns you, I'm sure Rosalie would be happy to discuss it in her mauve and gray office."
"You can shoot me first," I said, reaching up to nip his chin for emphasis.
"I'm apologizing anyway," he said before I could stop him. "I mean it, Bella. What sort of man can't wait two minutes to get the woman he loves into her clean, comfortable house?"
"The kind who can't read my mind but knows what I'm feeling anyway?" I guessed. "Did I mention I really, really liked it?"
"Your behavior seemed to indicate something of the kind. Still," he studied me a moment and shook his head. "Disgusting."
"And yet, you love me," I quipped, refusing to be drawn into his over-thinking.
"I didn't mean you were disgusting. Do you realize you're lying in six inches of mud? Have you always harbored a secret longing for dreadlocks?" He lifted a strand of my hair. It was caked into something resembling a rope.
"Not really," I said. "Too Laurentish."
"Then you better let me get you home and into the shower."
"Just what we need – more water. And only if you plan to join me."
"I always finish what I start," he said, nuzzling my neck. "In this case, that includes washing your hair and soaping you extensively."
"That sounds really nice." I was still holding him to me, my hands roaming over his rain-slicked skin. "What ever happened to our clothes anyway?"
"You don't remember?" His head popped up. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"I'm not sure. I was so busy feeling, I couldn't really think."
"Let's just say you have a very interesting way of getting at what you want when you're motivated."
"Oh." A belated wave of embarrassment swept through me and was gone, but Edward had spotted it.
"Don't," he said softly, kissing me again. "Don't be embarrassed. If it makes you feel any better, we'll both be picking denim out of our teeth for the foreseeable future."
I smothered an unladylike snort against his shoulder. "I can't believe – I mean, even our shoes are gone!"
"A lot of things seemed superfluous. I promise to come back before anyone's out and gather up the evidence."
"So how do we get back into the cottage? Your mom's there, don't forget."
"I'll think of something. Now seriously, I can't stand seeing what I've done to you. We're going." He started to pull away, but I held on tight.
"No, I want to stay like this, just like this, forever."
He sighed, collapsing back against me. "Tempting, but highly compromising when they come looking for us in the morning."
"Ugh, I hate it when you're right." Reluctantly, I released him and raised my head to look around the area. It looked like a meteor might have smashed into it – fallen branches, crushed ferns, the muddy ground gouged and flattened for yards around. Maybe the storm would get the blame, or a flying saucer.
"May I carry you?" he asked, after his first attempt to help me up had ended with both of us back in the puddle, trying to stifle our laughter.
I held on tight this time, and nodded, "It might be a good idea. I still feel a little dizzy."
"You feel like a greased pig," he corrected, gathering me up in his arms, and softening the gibe with a swift kiss.
I tightened my arms around his neck. "If that's your idea of a pick-up line, I won't worry about you alone in the big city."
"Not good?"
"Probably, the worst I've ever heard."
"And yet the most beautiful woman in the world is naked in my arms," he mused with a self-satisfied grin.
"It's the dazzle," I assured him. "You can't help it. And by the way, I'd thank you to squelch that particular talent while you're in New York."
He frowned. "Let me get this straight. No violence, dazzling or buying you expensive gifts. Is that it?"
"Unless I think of something else, yes."
"Who knew marriage would be so stifling? A list for a list. No stupid, no reckless, and no missing me."
"That's not fair," I protested. "I know I can't pull off number three, and I'm not entirely sure about one and two."
"Bella, you are in no position to provoke a spanking."
As usual, his timing was impeccable. Before I could retort to that one, he picked up speed to clear the river, and I had to hold on for dear life to keep my slippery self from sliding out of his equally slippery arms. He didn't slow till we reached the cottage, where he set me down at the wall that enclosed our little garden.
"We're going in this way?" I asked.
He nodded. "On the count of three."
We both backed up and leapt, dropping down outside our bedroom with a minimum of noise. It took less than a second for Edward to snap the lock on the glass doors, and we were inside.
"Now what?" I whispered.
"You stay here. I'll go talk to Esme."
In a flash, he'd put on a tee-shirt and jeans and headed for Renesmee's room. For the first time, I felt self-conscious about standing around naked and muddy, which was weird since there was nobody there to see me, but I retreated to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
When Edward joined me a few minutes later, the first of the mud was just sloshing down the drain.
"You started without me?"
"Not the good parts," I promised with a welcoming kiss. "Was Renesmee sleeping?"
"Very peacefully. I gave her a kiss for you."
"Thanks," I said, running my fingers through his hair to help the shower do its job. "What did Esme say? Did she wonder why you came in looking like that?"
"Esme is the soul of discretion. She didn't blink an eye."
Edward, on the other hand, was looking me over intently, and his expression was already reawakening every longing that had so recently been satisfied. I grabbed the bottle of shampoo, determined to get us both cleaned up before we got too distracted.
His hands went to my waist. My whole body tightened in response. "Why, Miss Swan," he murmured in that voice created for seduction, "you're beautiful without your mud."
"That's 'Cullen' to you," I corrected, already breathless, and dropped the shampoo.
