Lottie shook the burdensome memories from her mind as she removed the cloth from the basket and began to take out portions of smoked meat, a generous wedge of cheese, a loaf of crusty bread, a bunch of grapes, and, of course, a few more custard tarts. She placed each item between them while Alec silently observed. Lottie couldn’t tell for certain if he was looking at the food or at her, and she didn’t wish to find out. She kept her focus firmly on the task before her. But as the seconds ticked by, something inside wound tighter and tighter until it felt as though her very skin would burst.

She swallowed and looked into the now-empty basket. “A fine feast, but it appears Marta didn’t pack any utensils.”

“That’s no trouble.” His voice, as thick as honey, nearly startled her again. “I have a pocketknife. Will that do?”

Lottie fastidiously wiped her hands on the cloth to give her something else to do besides look at him. “It will have to.” She finally dared to glance up. Alec, still lounging on the blanket like some kind of grand Ottoman, handed her an ivory-handled switchblade. Lottie reached out and gripped the handle, but Alec held fast until she was forced to meet his eyes. Then he gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Careful now. I’m terribly attached to this one.”

Lottie responded with a look of mild exasperation, and Alec released the knife with a soft laugh. The handle was still warm from being nestled against his body, as if it was an extension of his person. Lottie pressed her lips together as a wave of heat rolled through her.

Honestly.

She sat up a little straighter and began to cut the cheese and meat with Alec’s knife. All the while she could practically feel his watchful gaze following her every movement. This would not do. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to tell him to keep his eyes to himself when Alec interrupted. “I nearly forgot!” He scrambled to his feet and took off for the cart. He returned nearly as quickly as he had left, but with a bottle of corked wine in one hand. “Marta gave us this. A celebratory bottle.”

Lottie’s frown deepened. “It will have to wait. We’ve no glasses.”

Alec settled back down on the blanket. “Come now. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He was already pulling out the cork.

“I think my sense of adventure is perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled and held the bottle out to her. “But I do insist on ladies first.”

Lottie huffed. “I’ve never in my life taken a—a—swig from a bottle! I’m not a pirate!”

“You most certainly are not. And thank goodness. Here.”

She eyed the bottle, then let out a resigned sigh. “Very well.” Lottie took the bottle from him and brought it to her lips. She took a tentative sip and somehow managed not to dribble any down her chin. The wine was rich and surprisingly smooth. Lottie took another, more substantial swallow before handing the bottle back to Alec.