It seemed to her that he knew what she was feeling, and that his expression held its own regrets. She sipped the wine absently while they watched each other, their heads so close that his breath warmed her cheek.

The wine became an invisible kiss.

He slid his arm around her shoulders, and held the cup more purposefully. While she drank, his head dipped behind hers, and he whispered in her ear. “Come to me in the garden tonight.”

Two days and she would be gone. She would leave with David, but she would not go to Scotland with him. Marcus must know that. He was not stupid.

Two days and he would take up his duty, and she hers. They would be adversaries again. Enemies. And something hopeful and glorious would truly be no more than a magical memory.

“Say you will come,” he whispered.

She drank more wine. She nodded.

laughter … bright colors and giggling women … hands turning her as she smiled and smiled … heady, wonderful happiness.

A sea of faces, moving to and fro like waves … torches, and talk she could not make out … Marcus, incredibly handsome and gentle. His warm hand in hers, and distant voices, and his wonderful eyes looking in hers until the world fell away.

A kiss …

A kiss, warm and sweet like the last wine of the feast. Nesta felt it and tasted it again, and opened her eyes to embrace the man who had given it to her.

The kiss and the dream disappeared. She found herself on her bed, alone in her chamber. Squinting, she looked to the light coming through the window slit.

It was midday. She had slept through the morning.

She sat up. Her head felt thick, and lopsided with an inner weight. Remnants of the dream fluttered through her mind, growing vague even as they fell.

She had drunk too much wine at the feast. So much that she did not remember returning to this chamber and this bed. She tried to shake the fuzz from her head. Her last clear recollection was agreeing to meet Marcus in the garden.

Had she gone? A fine thing if she had, and now couldn’t remember it.

A kiss … She remembered that very clearly. His hands holding her face and his mouth touching hers and a hungry response overwhelming her so badly that she would not let him go.

A very wonderful kiss. She rose and began dressing. If that was all she remembered from their last shared passion, it was a beautiful memory at least.

She descended to the hall where the servants already prepared for the midday meal. Everyone moved in the lazy, subdued way typical of people after a night of revelry.

The steward noticed her. He bowed.

That was odd. Just how odd worked on her mind as she walked through the hall. Heads turned. Faces grinned. Sidelong glances slid her way. She grew increasingly uncomfortable.