Page 28 of To Honor

Gentle. Soft. His lips pressed against hers. Evie pressed back.

She’d told him she had never been kissed before, and it was clear Gareth was being patient with her for it. But then his tongue ran along the crease of her lips as if he wished for her to open for him.

So she did.

The first sweep of his tongue forced her to hold on tighter. The second, as his tongue found hers, made it difficult for Evie to stand. At first, she was hesitant, unsure how to proceed. But slowly Evie understood.

His head slanted, their mouths fused together as Gareth’s tongue tangled with her own. With his arms around her, his mouth consuming her, Evie forced everything but the feel of every sweep, every press of their mouths, from her mind.

She was lost in the kiss and never wanted to be found. Everything she imagined? Nay. It was so much more.

When he pulled back, Evie tried not to mourn the loss of his lips on hers. Surely it could not go on forever anyway. If only . . .

“I should not have done that,” he said.

“I’m glad you did.”

He smiled. “As am I.”

His arms loosened. “Evie.”

She waited, but Gareth said nothing more. “Aye?” she asked finally.

Gareth shook his head. “We should sit.”

About to agree, instead Evie nodded toward the lake. “Or walk there instead?”

It was a rare warm day, and the sun did not reach the bench. “Aye.” He took her hand, and they walked toward the bank of the small lake.

“I often wonder how none know of this place,” Evie said.

“I suspect some do.”

“Then why do I never see anyone here?”

“Perhaps because it is owned by the church. Or perhaps some mystical beliefs keep people away.”

“Perhaps. There was talk years ago of the grounds behind the chapel being cursed. Though I do not believe in such things.”

“Do you not?”

They stopped.

“Nay.”

Gareth turned toward Evie, still holding her hand. “Tell me.”

He was not talking of curses any longer. “I am not betrothed,” she blurted, but rushed to add, “However, the envoy included Henry’s man, who negotiated on his behalf.”

Gareth stiffened visibly. “Negotiated.” His voice was clipped. “What, precisely?”

“My betrothal.”

“Did he entertain such a thing?”

She wished it were otherwise. “My father gives more coin to the cause than any other. Though I was not allowed to partake in the discussions, enough was said during the meal for me to gather that, aye, he did entertain him. Of course I asked my father when the envoy left if I was formally betrothed. He said nay but smiled in a way that made me uncomfortable.”

“There are earls more powerful, and wealthier, than your father. Surely if Matilda reclaims the throne, she would reward one of them? Some say her husband’s conquest of Normandy is a tenuous one. Surely her eldest son could be married there as well to secure their position in France.”