“Why not?”

“For the obvious reasons. Because you’re a single gentleman, and I’m an unmarried lady. It would be scandalous to accept money from you.”

“I don’t see why. No one would ever have to know about it. It could be our secret.”

She frowned at the thought. “And then I’d be indebted to you.”

“A gift, I said. Not a loan.”

“It would still put me under an obligation.”

“Would that be so bad? To be obligated to me in some way?”

“I believe it would. Besides, if the solicitor fails to wrest control from Mr. Weatherwax, I’d have no way to repay you.”

“I think you might,” he said. And then, before she had a moment’s inkling of his intention, he bent his head to hers and kissed her, very gently, on the lips.

A flush of unexpected warmth infused Laura’s veins. For the barest instant, her mouth softened under his. And then—

Common sense returned with all of the force of a steam-powered locomotive.

She jerked back from him with a start, nearly conking her head against the tree trunk. “I beg your pardon!”

Mr. Archer stared down at her. He appeared as stunned as she felt. Indeed, to judge from his slack-jawed look of astonishment, one might think she’d transformed into some variety of mythical creature at the merest touch of his lips. A mermaid, perhaps.

Or a two-headed monster.

It was a lowering thought.

His hand fell from the tree. “Miss Hayes—” He broke off. “Laura—”

“Don’t,” she warned him. “Don’t dare presume some greater intimacy—”

“Forgive me.” He took a step back from her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” An incredulous laugh. “Nothing, apparently. I think I must have run mad.”

More lowering still.

Laura was glad of the set down, however unintentional. She’d rather be angry and insulted than hurt—or tempted. “Do you often go about kissing ladies in such a hurly-burly fashion?”

“Never.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Truly, Miss Hayes. I’m sorry for having offended you. I daresay it was all of this talk of boldness and taking risks. I lost my head for a moment. It won’t happen again.”

His apology should have mollified her. He meant it—anyone could see that. And she did believe him. He wouldn’t kiss her again.

She should have been relieved. Instead, she felt vaguely disappointed.

Brief though it was, Mr. Archer’s kiss had been nothing like George’s. Her heart was still thumping rapidly from the wonder of it. So soft and tender—and so very surprising to them both.

“Why did you do it?” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Is it because I’m in reduced circumstances? Because I haven’t a father or a brother to defend me from—”

“No.” His denial was quick and fierce. “It has nothing to do with your station in life. My God. If you only knew—”

“Then why?”

“Because…there’s something between us. Some thread of connection. I feel it every time I look at you.”