Whisper of Jasmine Read Online Free PDF Page B

seldom in England, which is why I think Delilah decided to take pity on me and find me a lovely girl to coax me to stay home.”
    “You’d be better off with a lovely girl who’d want to go with you,” she blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth.
    He reached out gently and took her hand. He brushed his lips over the love line running across her palm. “And now I have one.”
    She swallowed hard. “I should tell you that you’re mad, you know. We’ve only just met.”
    “You haven’t just met me,” he said, his voice low and mesmerising. “You’ve known me all of your life, haven’t you?”
    “Have I? I think I must have. Otherwise, how could I be dreaming you now?”
    “You think you’re dreaming?”
    “I am. I’m going to wake up in my own little bed in that horrid flat any minute now and hear Marjorie snoring and smell her liquorice pastilles.”
    “Liquorice pastilles?”
    “She sucks them to keep from biting her nails,” Evie explained.
    “And Marjorie is?”
    “My flatmate and the bane of my existence. She steals my shoes and pretends she doesn’t, but I can tell because she stretches them out with her bunions.”
    “See? That’s good enough reason to come with me. I seldom snore, and I never suck on liquorice pastilles, and I have very handsome feet.”
    “I told you, you’re just a dream. A gorgeous, wonderful dream.”
    He pointed behind them to where their shadows stretched along the rooftop, dark whispers against the silvery moonlight.
    “Can a dream cast a shadow? I’ve got one, the same as you.”
    “Maybe you’re not a dream. Maybe you’re Peter Pan and some unfortunate girl stuck that shadow on for you with a bit of soap.”
    He shook his head. “Not on, pet. Remember? The soap didn’t work. Wendy had to sew it. That’s how she got involved with Peter in the first place. She let him into the window and after they talked she went away with him.”
    “She had been warned never to speak to him. He was dangerous,” Evie reminded him.
    “But Wendy had the adventure of a lifetime,” he countered.
    Evie shook her head. “You’re just a dream. A figment,” she said stubbornly.
    He thought a moment. “Have you ever been properly kissed? I mean really, thoroughly, knee-shatteringly kissed?”
    “No. Never.”
    “Then how on earth could you dream this?” Before she could reply he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. He left them there, warming them against her softness before he slid his arms completely around her and pulled her body fully against his. She made a soft sound, like the wind murmuring in the trees before a storm, and before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back, her hands tangled in his hair, her thigh trapped between his.
    At last he pulled back and Evie stared at him with eyes that would never look at anything the same way again. She reached up and traced the line of his cheek. Then, without warning, she pinched hard, twisting until he clapped his hand over hers.
    “Jesus, love, if you don’t want to be kissed you could just tell a fellow,” he said, his tone surprisingly light for a man who’d just been modestly assaulted. He rubbed ruefully at the spot. “I’ll wager that’s going to leave a mark.”
    She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. I just had to know. You do seem rather like a dream, and I had to be entirely certain— ow! ” She rubbed at her bottom, swatting his hand away. “What on earth was that for?”
    “It’s the dreamer who gets pinched,” he supplied helpfully. “Not the figment. Now, do you feel properly awake, or shall I try again?”
    She dodged his eager hands. “That’s quite enough of that! No, I suppose you are real enough. I just can’t quite believe it. It seems enchanted up here, doesn’t it?”
    Together they looked out over the city that stretched before them as far as they could see. A few low clouds had rolled in, roundbellied and threatening snow, but the stars