“What was that?” Reyn demanded. He set aside his sister’s hat and took her hand.

Malta laughed aloud, mildly embarrassed. “I was thinking of the first time you kissed me. My mother had left the room and the only servants there were yours, all veiled and suitably busying themselves with tasks. You leaned in close to me and I thought you would tell me a secret. But then you kissed me. I felt your lips through the lace of the veil. And the tip of your tongue, I thought. It was . . .” She paused and was surprised to realize she was blushing.

“Very erotic,” Reyn finished quietly for her. A slow smile spread over his face, and his eyes gleamed with remembered pleasure. “I had only thought to steal a kiss while your mother was not looking. I had not realized that the barrier to our touch would only enhance the moment.”

“You were a wicked boy. You had no right to kiss me.” Malta tried to sound affronted but failed. She shared his smile, with a touch of sadness for the foolish girl she had been.

He held up his sister’s veil before his face. She could scarcely see his features through the multiple layers of dark lace. “And now I do. Should we try that again?”

“Reyn!” she rebuked him, but he did not pause. He draped the veiling over his face and leaned in to kiss her.

“It’s Tillamon’s best veil!” she objected. But then the lace brushed her face and she closed her eyes as he kissed her, a very chaste kiss that nonetheless swept her back into memories of their first passion.

When he drew back from her, he wondered in a husky voice, “Why does the forbidden always add that edge of sweetness?”

“It’s true. But I don’t know why.” She leaned her head on his chest and asked mischievously, “Does it mean that now that you have a right to me, I am less sweet?”

He laughed. “No.”

For a time they were silent together and content. The boat rocked as the rowers battled the current. Malta gazed out the small window. Behind them, the river stretched gleaming, its gray turned to silver in the lingering sunlight. Tillamon leaned on the railing, lost in thought. The wind stirred her hair. From behind she could have been any young woman, lost in her dreams. But what did she dream of? What did the future offer her? What would it offer Malta’s child, if she or he were similarly changed?

“You sigh. Again. Are you uncomfortable?” Reyn set a gentle hand on her belly. She put both her hands over his. This was the time, much as she dreaded it.