The meat was delicious: fresh, with a rich gamy flavor. She huddled close to Peter at the fireside because the evenings grew cold as soon as the sun set. When she finished her first portion of elk, he hacked off another and seemed pleased to see her eat so heartily, a half-smile in his eyes.

Their knees touched as he leaned over to turn the meat on the spit, and he murmured an apology.

“Surely we are no longer strangers since we sleep under the same roof?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “There is no chaperone here but the moon and the stars.”

While he concentrated on arranging the meat over the fire, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your tunic is still wet,” she said. “Are you sure you would not rather take it off? I would hate for you to catch a chill.”

“No, it’s fine. Please don’t worry.”

“It is getting cooler in the evenings, as if summer is coming to an end.” She shivered suddenly.

“It is September now. The third.”

She watched his face in the firelight as he busied himself with storing the remaining meat among some spruce fronds, and suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him again, as she had the day she was overcome with terror. She longed to feel his body pressing against hers, wanted to hear his heartbeat. Was it very wrong of her? She shuffled closer and put her arm around him, turning his face toward hers with a hand, then touched her lips to his. It felt magical. She kissed him some more, rubbing her hand up and down his back, feeling the ridge of his spine. As before, he let her do as she wished but did not kiss her back, and suddenly she was overcome with desire. It wasn’t something she thought through, just a physical need.

She kissed his lips more insistently, turning his shoulders so he faced her and running her hands over his chest. He gave a little moan under his breath, so she continued running her hands over him, down his thighs now, to his calves, then back up.

He placed a hand in the small of her back to hold her close and stroked her hair, but pulled his face away. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“This is what I want,” she told him. “Do you not want it too?”

He made an animal noise in his throat. “Of course, but I don’t want to hurt you. You would regret this later when you came to marry and could not be honest with your husband on your wedding night.”

In answer, Maria kissed him harder. “Please,” she said. “I won’t regret it. Please.”