Page 54

Ambrose withdrew his hand. “Forgive me.”

Marina saw the mistake at once. He thought she had recoiled from him.

“No,” she said quickly. “You have done nothing wrong.”

His expression remained guarded.

“I have a question,” she added, taking refuge in the book.

“If it concerns more Christmas decorations, I beg you to spare me.”

“One can never have too many Christmas decorations. But this is about your condition.”

He eyed the open pages. “That sounds considerably more dangerous.”

“I have been reading. There may be ways to soothe the pain after sunlight touches your skin. And perhaps we could learn what degree of exposure you can tolerate without causing you harm.”

“I believe my physicians spent years attempting much the same thing.”

“Then you will not mind one more investigator.” She gave him a hopeful look. “For the sake of science?”

“Science,” he repeated dryly. “A formidable excuse.”

She raised her hand, then stopped. “May I?”

He glanced at her fingers. “What are you proposing?”

“Only to feel whether your skin is warm now, when you have been out of the sun. I should like to compare it with how you feel after even a little exposure. Not today,” she added hastily. “Not without careful thought.”

For a long moment he said nothing. Then he inclined his head.

Marina touched his cheek.

His skin was warm, but not feverish. She had meant to make an observation and remove her hand. Instead she found herself tracing the line of his jaw with the lightest pressure of her fingertips.

Ambrose closed his eyes.

“Does that hurt?” she whispered, withdrawing at once.

“Yes,” he said.

Her stomach dropped. “I am so sorry. I did not mean⁠—”

“Not as you suppose.” He caught her hand before she could retreat. “I have spent most of my life without anyone wishing to touch me. It is difficult to explain what it does to a man when someone finally does.”

Marina’s throat tightened. She moved her chair a little closer.

“Then you must allow me to help you become accustomed to it.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Another experiment?”

“If you like.”

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Then he kissed her palm, slowly enough that she felt each breath against her skin.

“Ambrose,” she whispered.

He looked at her as if he were asking a question he did not dare speak aloud.