As Cleav gazed up at the long-limbed beauty in the tree, there was no doubt in his mind what kind of animal the devil would have used to tempt him.
"Relevant theological discussion broadens the intellect and lightens the soul," he replied arrogantly.
Esme giggled, but her voice was smooth as honey. "There you go, talking prissy again."
"I do not talk prissy!" He raised his voice in anger before glancing guiltily toward the house. "I do not talk prissy," he repeated quietly.
"I'm not complaining," Esme assured him. "I told you that I like that prissy talk."
Cleav sighed loudly with exasperation. "Oh, well, thank you very much."
Esme ignored his sarcasm.
"I suspect Miss Sophrona does, too," she added, casually surveying her fingernails. "Or she'd sure lose patience with all that talking and no kissing at all."
"What!" Cleav nearly choked.
"I said—"
"I heard what you said!" Cleav gave a hasty glance toward the house. "Miss Sophrona is a very proper young lady. A lady who can appreciate a gentleman's favor and regard."
Esme was skeptical. "I'm betting she'd consider it a favor if you'd give a bit of kissing and sparking more regard."
Her criticism of his wooing abilities stung. "Our courtship is no concern of yours."
"Of course not. I'm just trying to give you some advice."
"I do not need any advice."
"Well, you need something. The two of you are like to bore each other to death."
"Miss Sophrona and I are eminently suitable," he stated flatly.
Esme was not sure what he meant by that. "Suitable" was wearing a black dress to a funeral. She'd never heard the word used concerning sparking or marrying. Was courting really so different for ladies and gentlemen?
"Have you ever kissed her?"
Cleav's eyes widened in horror at Miss Crabb's complete lack of decorum. "I don't believe you are asking this!"
"Believe it," she said, annoyed at herself and wishing she could call back the foolish question. "I'm curious, that's all," she said. "Since you've kissed me, I wondered if you've kissed her."
Cleav's cheeks puffed with fury and his words were an explosive denial. "I have never kissed you! You kissed me!"
"Same difference." Esme easily shrugged away his dissent. "We've been over this before."
"You . .
The back door opened, and Sophrona came outside, a white wicker tray with a large pitcher of the lemonade in her hands.
"I bet she's wondering when you're going to kiss her," Esme whispered.
"I will not be kissing her with an audience," Cleav snarled back at her.
Esme couldn't have been more pleased to hear that, but she couldn't stop herself from one last prick at his pride.
"Sure wish she'd brought lemonade for me. All this prissy talk sure makes a woman thirsty."
Cleav didn't get a chance to reply. Sophrona was already within earshot, and he rose politely to his feet.
