She contemplated the mixture of the tart and sweet flavors that lingered in her mouth after she’d swallowed. “You are right. It is delicious.”
Jack inched forward and brushed his thumb across her mouth. “Did you know that honey is another food infused with Aphrodite’s powers?”
“I believe it,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she tasted honey. He kissed her and used his tongue to spread the sweetness into her mouth. The yearning she’d endured all night long rose to the surface, and she almost cried out in protest when he pulled his mouth away from hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t bring you outside to—”
“If you apologize for kissing me, you will indeed insult me.”
Jack grinned. “I only wanted to apologize for my lack of self-control. It seems I find it impossible to be in your company and not touch or kiss you.”
“Why did you ask me into the garden if not to feed me honey and kiss me?” she said playfully.
He leaned back in his chair and observed her. “Because I want to sketch you.”
“You draw as well?”
“Yes, I am reasonably good at it, and I need something to keep me inspired after you return to Canterbury. I recall you saying that you intended to leave today.”
She picked up her cup and eyed him over the rim of her cup. “I’m not actually required to go back for another month,” she said.
He smiled. “I like the sound of that. But you will return eventually, and I want to keep a part of you here with me.”
“Very well. I confess I am curious to see what you can do with your sketchpad. Where would you like me to sit?”
“Under that tree where I placed the blanket.”
Ottilie rose from her chair and settled under the tree.
“That’s perfect.”
Jack filled a plate with sandwiches and fruit and set it in front of Ottilie. He positioned himself on the blanket and opened his sketchpad. As he worked, he glanced intermittently at her, and each time her heart grew wings that thrashed against the walls of her chest. She studied his handsome face, furrowed in concentration, and thought about her mother. Had her heart grown wings at the sight of Ottilie’s father? Had her father charmed her mama with sweet words, honeyed kisses, and talk of muses? Was she doomed to follow that same path—the one her mama had worked so hard to steer her from?Yes!She heard her aunt’s resounding caveat in her mind.
Jack looked up from his sketch and caught Ottilie’s eye. The purple bruise on his cheek aside, his face revealed no trace of the darkness that made up his past. She saw only tenderness in his expression and kindness in his eyes. He was undoubtedly the most intelligent, charming man she’d ever met, but the things he’d confided in Ottilie had sent chills through her. He’d experienced traumas that could not easily be quieted. She knew in her heart that to be true.
*
After Ottilie departedfor Berkeley Square, Jack returned to his writing with her taste lingering on his lips. He touched his mouth and smiled as he entered his study.
“What are you smiling about?”
Jack looked up, startled to see Brandt lounging on the dark brown leather armchair with his legs outstretched and his feet resting on a matching ottoman. “When did you get home?” He asked.
“I’ve been cooling my heels in here for a while now.” Brandt sipped his drink.
“I was in the garden.”
“I know,” Brandt spoke evenly.
Jack eyed his friend, realizing that Brandt was waiting for him to make some confession regarding Ottilie. When he wasn’t forthcoming, Brandt motioned to the sketch in Jack’s hand.
“Go on, let me see it?”
Jack handed over the drawing and went to pour himself a whiskey.
“She sure is pretty,” Brandt remarked. “Did she stay the night?”
