This wasn’t a stolen kiss, impulsive and rushed while their charges’ heads were turned. This was deliberate and unhurried. His lips touched hers, then brushed over her cheek and across her forehead and down to her chin. He took her face in his hands and ran a thumb over her lower lip before finally covering it with his own.
Her heart trembled, then began pounding in her chest. She felt indescribably…wanted. Unbelievably special. The feeling was warm and comforting, yet somehow shocking and exhilarating, all at the same time. She was dizzy with emotion, and with his exotic patchouli scent, and with the taste of wine on his lips, and with the heat of his body. She could have happily stayed like that forever, drowning in pure sensation with his mouth locked on hers.
When he pulled away, she just stood there, swaying for a moment, before opening her eyes. All around them, the flames glittered, gilding his features in a golden light.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
As he slid the spectacles back on her face, the beginnings of a smile curved his lips. “You’re entirely welcome,” he said.
He sounded sincere. Was she wrong, then, about his intentions? He’d claimed to have invited her expressly to introduce her to someone who could help make her dream come true. Then he’d gone to great trouble to whisk her off to this romantic hideaway when they could be with his friends instead, showing off her spectacles and celebrating his miraculous book discovery.
And now here he was, looking at her—and kissing her—like he wanted her. Her, not just her money. Was he simply a good actor?
Could anyone be that good an actor?
She shouldn’t allow herself to forget his words in the excitement of a kiss. To forget his beliefs about wives and inheritances. To forget that he was no different from all the other men where it counted.
But for this one magical night, a night of dreams come true, she would let herself live a fantasy. For just this night…
She fluffed her heavy skirts, gazing at him while she willed herself to believe she was a beautiful maiden, and he, a gentleman in love with her.
For just this one night.
“I’m famished,” he said, and she laughed, breaking the tension. He led her to one of the chairs, then poured two goblets of wine. While she sipped, he moved the other chair close to hers and sat, taking a strawberry for himself.
“What did he talk about?” Ford asked, licking strawberry juice off his lips.
“Who?”
“King Charles.”
For a moment, she looked around in confusion.
Then he laughed. “I meant John Locke, of course.”
“Oh.” A little giggle threatened to escape, so she sipped more wine. “He’s brilliant.”
He swiped a spear of asparagus off a plate piled high. “More brilliant than I?”
She cocked her head, making a show of considering. “In a different way.” Sipping again, she warmed to her subject. “Do you know what he told me? He said all mankind should be equal and independent, and no one should have the right to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions.”
He bit the end off his third asparagus. “Not even the king?”
“No one.” It was so radical a thought as to be startling, but so clear the way Locke had explained it. “There should be a standing rule to live by, common to everyone, and made by legislative power—a liberty to follow one’s own will in all things where one does not harm another, and not to be subject to the arbitrary will of another. Arbitrary power, he said, becomes tyranny, whether those that use it are one or many.”
“I wouldn’t discuss this with Charles,” Ford said, passing her a marchpane.
She bit into the sweet almond confection. “I’ve never discussed anything with the king, but if I ever get a chance, I just might.”
“Criminy, what have I started?” he said with a good-natured roll of his eyes.
“Locke says every man has property in his own person, and no one has any right to that but himself. The labor of his body, the work of his hands, are his, and the only reason for men to unite and put themselves under government is the preservation of their property.”
“You’re excited by these ideas.” Having finished the asparagus, he lifted a spoon and dug into the cheesecake blanketed in rich puff pastry. “I can hear it in your voice.” He chewed and swallowed, closing his eyes, his face a mask of bliss. “Here, you have to try this.”
He spooned up another bite and held it before her lips.
Though the night was crisp, she suddenly felt overwarm. But there was nothing for it. She opened her mouth and let him feed her the spoonful.
“It’s heavenly,” she said after she’d swallowed, though in truth, she hadn’t really tasted it. She’d been too overwhelmed by the intimacy of his gesture. But she did her best to recover. “Um, yes, I am excited. I’ve never heard anything like Locke’s ideas. It’s a new way to look at our world.” She drained her goblet, feeling woozy from both the wine and the thoughts spinning in her brain. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”
“Thank you for coming.” He reached to refill her cup, then leaned even closer, pressing a short, sweet kiss to her lips. “You enjoyed hearing about the scientific discoveries, too, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Very much.” Her lips tingled. “I surprised myself.”
“I’m surprised to find the philosophy interesting as well. So we’re even this night.”
“This night.” Just this one night. She sighed, trying to savor the wine and the company, the candlelight, the music that drifted through the air, the stars in the clear summer sky. Knowing it had to end. “Can you hear the laughter from the quadrangle? I think everyone must be out there now.” But she didn’t want to join them. She didn’t want to leave this magical, private place.
Afraid he might assume
