“Marco!”
“Polo!”
“Marco!”
“Polo!”
“May I pause our activity just long enough to pose a query, Darling?”
“Of course, my dear!”
“What in the blazes are we doing?”
“I have no earthly idea.”
Opting to enjoy a brief cooling off period in the wake of their heated encounter, Alex and Callista dove headfirst into the crystalline lake that bordered Nathaniel’s property; swimming laps and splashing one another as they enjoyed a cleansing afternoon dip.
Between challenging one another to impromptu water races and splashing each other full in the face, the couple frolicked like kids as they swam with the swans and basked in the breezes of a warm English afternoon.
“I must say it, Callista.” Alexander said her name like the sweetest poetry.
“I do not recall the last time that I have so enjoyed the company of a lady. Please tell me, do you plan to stay on here at Nathaniel’s estate?”
Callista shrugged.
“Well, I’m not so sure that I have much of a choice,” she admitted. “Considering the fact that Jasmin does not have the foggiest idea as to how she brought me back in time, and even less idea as to how to send me back, I’m kinda thinkin’ that I just may have to stick around this joint a while. This extremely elaborate, obscenely corniced, embossed and embellished, I don’t even want to know the market value joint.”
Alex chuckled.
“Well, if there does indeed exist a magical time machine just waiting to take you home, I fully intend to rip it apart with my bare hands,” he asserted, adding as he made the oh-so-romantic gesture of splashing her full in the face, “I want to keep you here with me.”
Callista nodded.
“So I take it, then, that you pretty much plan to stay put yourself?” she pressed him, inclining her head sharp in his direction. “You’ll be staying with your brother for a bit?”
It was Alexander’s turn to shrug as he stroked his sculpted chin in an apparent show of thought.
“Well, during my time in the Royal Army, I planned upon discharge to take a brief sojourn at the home of my brother, then retire to my own modest manor house in the heart of Birmingham,” he explained, ducking his head in a rare show of self-consciousness. “Only I fear that my own, more modest homestead may prove unsuitable for an elegant lady such as yourself.”
Callista rolled her eyes.
“Well, seeing that I reside in the architectural equivalence of a dilapidated shoebox, and considering the fact that my entire apartment building likely would fit in the confines of your drawing room, mayhap even your water closet, I somehow feel that your modest domicile would suffice to meet my residential needs,” she asserted, tone more dry and caustic than usual—and that was a feat.
Alex chuckled.
“Although I do hope that you would enjoy my home, I think that I may indeed build a new one—a house located on this very estate, so that I can spend more time with my brother and his bride,” he paused here, aiming a meaningful look in Callista’s direction, “As well as with his bride’s best friend. Perhaps I could secure a job as a palace guard in service of Queen Victoria, or at one of my brother’s many corporate entities.”
Callista nodded.
“And surely there exists a restaurant in London in search of a chef,” she reasoned, adding with a smirk, “I have more than enough experience fixing up all manner of Victorian delicacies—which in this day and age, I suppose would qualify as nouveau cuisine.”
Alex smiled, clapping his hands together as he considered this prospect.
“So there we have it,” he declared. “The origins of a future together. Got any other ideas, Love, to make it even better?”
Callista thought a moment, then snapped her fingers.
“Hey, I know!” she declared. “We could just chuck it all and make love again!”
Pinning her with a wolfish grin that showed her he quite liked this concept, Alexander tossed the length of his long wet mane feverish over one bulging shoulder, crooking his finger teasing in her direction as he invited, “Come to me, my lady.”