More than contentment passed between them. Desire covered them like a cloak. The fierce wanting had been given new life with this embrace, and it pulled and twisted and made every part of her tingle.

“I do not think that you only want to hold me like this, Marcus. I think that you have been waiting in this garden for more than that.”

He kissed her cheek, and she felt his smile form against her skin. “That is true.”

“Do you hope to befuddle me with passion? Should I trade everything for this ecstasy?”

“I am not asking for what you cannot give. I do not expect you to abandon who you are. I only want what is already mine.”

“That was one night of pleasure.”

“I am not speaking of the pleasure, or of one night.”

His quiet statement moved her heart, and did befuddle her, as no physical passion could. She dared not respond to his allusion. Speaking of that would acknowledge emotions that must be ignored. It pained her to deny them, but she had to unless she wanted her heart to be shredded one day.

“There is confusion and deceit in what you propose. We meet as lovers during the night, and battle each other by day.”

“There is already confusion in it, Nesta. Staying apart has not resolved that. I do not see much deceit in this embrace. Each of us knows where the other stands. I do not see what has transpired since we returned from the lodge as a repudiation of what happened that night. Do you?”

Nay, she did not. She had tried to make that repudiation, though. God knew how hard she had tried, and how miserably she had failed.

“You speak of exploring a passion that is doomed, and that we ourselves will destroy.”

“I speak of having what I want while I can, before the world forces me to give it up.”

He made it sound so possible. Almost sensible. The warmth of his embrace reminded her of how real their special intimacy could be.

Her body wanted to accept his strange logic and reckless offer, and her heart did too. The voice in her head that warned of unimaginable pain quieted to a dull whisper. It would not be silenced, however.

His hand turned her chin. He moved, so that his arm cradled her shoulders. His gaze absorbed her so completely that his eyes became a star-filled sky in which her soul floated.

He kissed her, and the cautious whisper spoke no more.

It was a sweet kiss, as gentle and luxurious and soulful as the one from her drugged memory. Its poignant mood touched her heart like a magician’s wand, and a glorious, sparkling sensation that spoke of dawn and spring and endless joy broke all through her.