Paint Me Anew (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Rain or Shine

Author's Note:

And we're back in the game, my darlings! My hands appear to have recovered enough for me to go back to updating regularly. Fingers crossed! (And what a relief it is to control them enough to cross them! Ha-ha!) This chapter was almost long enough to be a double update, but I just kept writing. And I'm almost done with the next one, so don't run away! More updates are coming soon!

I'm also working on chapter 2 for A Villain for Christmas. I initially planned to start posting it earlier in the month, but I should've known nothing ever goes as planned. Nonetheless, I hope you give Eric and Billie a chance, once I start updating it.

And now to Fleckney! (I missed the place!)

Love,

K. xx

***

The first drops hit Anya's shoulder when they'd covered about one third of the distance between the Hall and the county town where the church was. Anya jerked her face up, to the cloudy dark sky; and the next large drop of the Summer rain landed on her cheek. She gasped. Klaus' hand wrapped around hers, and he forcefully pulled her after him, towards a large tree on the side of the road. There was a small, raggedy bus stop under it.

"What are you–" She didn't finish her question, because she could now see why he'd dragged her under the shelter.

Seconds later, a deluge, a wall of rain going down, cut them off from the world around them.

"Wow," Anya exhaled, and he chuckled near her.

"That's the infamous Fleckney Summer rains for you," he said and craned his neck, glancing up. "It doesn't look like it's going to slow down any time soon. Just Will's luck to have one of these on his wedding day."

"Oh, that's unfortunate." Anya pursed her lips in unease. "I feel sorry for your cousin."

"They're going to be fine," Klaus said and gave her a tender smile. "They're madly in love, and they are both– I don't know how to put it. I'd say, laid-back is the best word. 'Going with the flow' kind of people. They'll still have lashing of fun. The question is what we're going to do about this." He was still holding her hand, and she felt his thumb brush across her knuckles. "We're missing the ceremony, I reckon, but getting back to the Hall might also be an aggro."

Anya stepped back from him and sat down on the bench under the roof.

"I'm sorry, darling," he said remorsefully. "If you hadn't been forced to walk with me, you'd–"

"I love it," Anya interrupted him.

He gave her a surprised look, and she grinned.

"We're alone here, and it's raining. As if we're in a tent. I love rain, did I ever tell you?" she said with a content sigh and dangled her feet. "I love the smell of it when it just starts. And the noise, when it's this heavy. Obviously getting wet would ruin our clothes and my make up, but it's kind of cosy."

He approached the bench, unbuttoned his jacket, and carefully sat down next to her, hitching up his trousers. Anya lunged ahead and pressed her mouth to his. He paused for a millisecond and then responded - with enthusiasm. She felt the familiar pressure and heat of his hot palm on the back of her neck, under her hairline. She grabbed handfuls of his curls and moaned into their kiss.

A few minutes later she had to tear her mouth off his to catch her breath.

"What was that for?" he asked with a small laugh.

His eyes were brilliant with the iridescence that she'd learnt to recognise as Klaus Bjornsson being properly randy.

"You're such a... gentleman," she muttered, a tad embarrassed by her eagerness. She looked down and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sort of... lush and sophisticated."