Prologue
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore, to one thing constant never.
Shakespeare
VIRGINIACOAST
APRIL1745
With his back to the coastal wind, Henri Lennox settled his arms around Esmée Shaw, guiding her soft, pale hands with his tanned, callused fingers as they let the long silken line out. The pear-shaped kite caught on a gust, tugging at the string till it threatened to snap.
“Let it fly away from you bit by bit,” he told her.
She did so, her laugh a surprised trill as the kite climbed higher. “Shall I let out more line?”
“Slowly, aye. With the right technique, you can even make it dance.”
“What?”
“Just give a tug to the string now and again. Like this.” He showed her as they gazed upward, the kite zigzagging against the azure sky, its tail a scarlet streak as it soared and dipped.
Wonder laced her tone. “Where did you get such a winsome creation?”
“The East Indies. They’ve been kite-flying for centuries. We colonials are just coming awake. Our kite lacks but one thing.”
“Oh?” She tugged on the line and sent the kite dancing again.
He relaxed his hold on her hands, resting his jaw against her hatless head. She fit neatly beneath his chin, her back warm against his linen-clad chest, the wind riffling her carefully pinned hair like he longed to do with his fingers. He breathed in the telltale rose scent that seemed to imbue every ebony strand. “The kite lacks decoration. Our entwined initials should suit.”
“Henri ... how romantic.” Her voice held a touch of teasing. “’Tis something I might fancy, not you.”
“You’ve no idea what keeps me awake long nights at sea.”
The afternoon sun sank behind them when it had been in their eyes minutes before. Had it not just been noon? At their feet was an empty basket, the remains of apiquenique. The cold meats, cheeses, and fruit had been devoured, even the little comfits molded in the shape of anchors from Shaw’s Chocolate shop. Esmée’s hat was atop the sand near her discarded shoes. Henri saw Admiral and Mrs. Shaw at a distance, slowly walking the beach with Esmée’s younger sister.
He kissed his beloved’s soft brow, his hands falling to her tightly cinched waist. “With you, time seems to melt away when I want it to stand still.”
“If I could stop the clock, I would.” She let out more line, head tipped back as the kite soared higher. “I want to run with it.”
“In those petticoats?” Even as he asked it, she darted away from him. Lithe and laughing, she ran full tilt along the shore, a ruffled white wave breaking over her bare feet.
He started after her, stepping over her hat and slippers. The sand slowed him, his boots heavy, but he finally caught up with her. He untangled the kite string from her fingers and led her behind a dune that hid them from any onlookers.
“Henri, will you spoil my merriment?”
“My mind is more on kissing than kites, Esmée.”
She caught her breath as he brought the kite string behind his back, out of her reach, while his free arm encircled her. She laid her head upon his chest, her long-lashed eyes closing. Emotion knotted his throat. Did she realize she held his heart? Not just a piece of it. The entire whole of it.
She raised her head, her green eyes soft yet wary. “Don’t, Henri.”
He brushed back a dark tendril of her hair. “Don’t kiss you?”
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving again.”
“All right,ma belle. I’ll just kiss you then.” The tender moment was theirs, the future be hanged. He kissed her soundly. Rather, she kissed him, her arms tightening around his neck as if anchoring him to the spot and preventing their parting. Sensations she alone was capable of rousing swam through him, widening eddies of desire shadowed by regret.
