Page 37

Her blue eyes found his, a flicker of defiance igniting their depths. “My mother was a scholar of the ancient world, like her father before her. I study in the library … and I have published papers.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, under a pseudonym, of course.”

Aidan smiled. “Of course.”

“As my mother did before me.”

“I should like to read them.”

“Truly?”

He nodded, warmed by her surprise. “Truly.”

“You do not mind that I … engage in such pursuits?”

“If it leads to reciting Manilius in the moonlight, I am wholly in favor of it. Imagine what you will teach our children.”

The sun had fully disappeared now, and the first stars blinked into existence overhead. She groaned. “Your mother is obsessed!”

He chuckled softly. “My father chose to make our … situation … palatable by commenting on the benefits of our union. My mother has been distressed lately, but the notion of grandchildren has quite lifted her spirits.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Then Gwen spoke again, her voice more subdued. “Then, I suppose I am happy to be of service in some small way.”

Aidan turned toward her, the moonlight catching the glint of copper in her hair. “You are of the greatest service, Venus.”

He reached for her gently, cradling her against him with quiet reverence. His fingers lightly traced the curve of her cheek, and for a moment, he simply breathed in her presence. Oranges and something warmer, like a sun-drenched memory. When his lips met hers, it was but a whisper of contact, tentative and reverent.

She sighed, and he deepened the kiss, slow and exploring, their breath mingling in the growing dark. The intensity of her response was more than he had hoped for, yet perfectly attuned to his own racing heart. He drew her closer, savoring the warmth of her form pressed against his, each point of contact seeming a vow.

His hand moved to the small of her back, anchoring her as though he might lose her to the shadows if he let go. Aidan was overwhelmed by the gravity of what he felt. She was not merely a diversion. She was becoming essential.

Pulling back slightly, he found her eyes wide and shimmering in the moonlight. Her lips were parted, breath soft against the night air, and he longed to kiss her again, but restrained himself.

Brushing his thumb across her cheek, he murmured, “From her fair and unpolluted flesh, may violets spring.”

She gazed at him as though he had woven starlight with his words, and he swallowed hard. He wanted this woman. Not only for tonight. For all his days.

Whatever the coming days held—danger, scandal, the truth about her father—he prayed he would still deserve the look in her eyes when it was done.