Page 2 of The Truth Serum
“No,” she said as she lifted her chin. “That’s whyyoulike it. I’m a proper girl.”
“Liar,” he accused, as he drew closer.
“Never,” she countered, but she didn’t draw away.
He could smell the lemon scent on her hair, but it was the sweet catch of her breath that drew him. Her cheeks flushed rose and her lips parted.
“Becca,” he whispered. “If I were a pirate, I’d whisk you away from here.”
She leaned toward him. “Where would we go?”
“To my ship, where I would clothe you in pearls.”
“Pearls? That’s hardly clothing.”
“It would be for you. Just pearls. Nothing else.” He stroked a finger up the side of her arm, watching the goosebumps trail in his wake.
“Pearls are very impractical.”
“That’s why I like them.”
“What if I don’t like pearls? What if I prefer silk?”
He frowned. “Since when don’t you like pearls?”
“Since when do I love silk?”
“Always! You called it the most heavenly fabric in existence. Ever since your mother brought a bolt back from London.”
She stared at him. “You remember that?”
Of course he did. He remembered everything about her. “It’s hard to forget,” he drawled. “You went on and on and on—”
“I did not!” she cried. She made to hit him on the shoulder, but she missed because he had seen the movement coming. Indeed, he’d known she would do it, and so he caught her hand and then rolled away from her.
She went with him because he was pulling her forward. And when she lost her balance, he spread his arms wide so she would land on his chest.
“Oh my,” she whispered. “I believe I have been caught by a wicked pirate.”
His expression grew serious. “Have you? Have you truly?”
He caressed her cheek, then pulled her bonnet ribbons apart. She tugged it off her head. Her hair spilled down, rich and luxurious, but his gaze remained locked on hers.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you a wicked pirate?”
“Absolutely.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her down to his mouth. It was a fumbling kind of kiss. Too much pressure, then too little, then a slow maneuvering between them both. He let her settle, and she let him tease her lips with his tongue.
They soon got the hang of it, and he had never been happier. Never, until the next afternoon by the creek. Or the next morning behind the vicarage. Or any of a million stolen moments they spent debating his future while pretending to study theology.
Unlike him, her path was set. She was the daughter of a wealthy viscount who would marry a titled gentleman and have a pack of fat, happy babies. She might express interest in plants and medicine, but her destiny was as a wife and mother.
His future, however, was murky, wholly dependent upon if his family could find the money to send him to university. And of course, what would he study there, when he’d much rather be out sailing the high seas or training with a bayonet? Mostly, he wanted to be with her because she asked him questions no one else asked.
Was it fair for the magistrate to take away Farmer John’s pig just because he’d stolen it from Farmer Tom? John had raised it like a family member for two years. Didn’t two years of care and feeding count for anything?
Who was the guilty party when a lame veteran stole to feed his family?
Was it safe to use heavy sauces when the meat has gone off? Especially if one could not afford better food?
