“The ceiling is moving, Henry.” She was certain of it. Or perhaps the floor? That was the only way to explain why she had slouched low on the sofa, her head tilted back until she stared at the elaborate mural on the ceiling. “Are they shepherds?” she asked, squinting. “Or horses?”
Henry reached over her, his forearm brushing across her breasts. Even though the movement was unintentional, her body bloomed with heat.
“Put these on.” He buffed the lenses against his lapel then pressed her glasses into her hand.
After a few blinks, the ceiling still moved, although the shapes were slightly less fuzzy. “Are the horses riding the shepherds? Oh, I mean—”
But Henry had already dissolved into laughter. “I don’t laugh this much normally,” he said, clutching his stomach. “I don’t think it’s good for me.”
“Of course it’s good for you.” She turned to her side to admire his profile. “I can’t imagine you being unhappy.”
Something passed over his expression, a darkness gone before she could name it. “I’m happier with you.”
She propped her head on her palm. “So why do you never see me? I’m not exactly booked with engagements.”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “I’m rarely in London except during the winter, and—” His voice caught, as though he wanted to say something and then thought better of it. “You should come to Oxford with me, study art history.”
She laughed and rolled onto her back, causing the ceiling to resume its spinning. “You’re ridiculous.” She giggled for a moment longer, then fell into silence.
When his hand touched hers, she thought she was dreaming. There was no other reason why he should be running his pinky over hers, then laying his entire palm over her hand. She turned her palm up without thinking. His fingers interlaced with hers.
For one moment, she felt complete, secure in her knowledge that Henry belonged to her, if only for this short time.
Chapter 9
“Pan, meaning all, andtheos,meaning gods,“ Ellie said, stepping into the shadow of the ancient building, drawing her weathered guidebook from her reticule. “Hence, Pantheon.”
Henry tipped his head up, using his palm to shade his eyes against the setting Roman sun. “How did the ancients do it?”
“The proportions are remarkable.” Ellie lifted her hand in front of Henry’s face and drew a circle, tracing the lines of the domed roof around to the base of the columned structure. “You can see it makes a perfect circle.” She tried to ignore his proximity, the heat of his body just behind hers. Didhisbreath catch when he got close to her? Surely not.
Yes, there had been moments when she felt a connection between them. When Henry’s gaze lingered too long on her lips, or when he stood nearby and inhaled, as though trying to capture her smell. Could it be possible her presence affected him even a bit?
She scoffed internally at the thought. Nother,certainly. Henry spent his time with women who were experienced lovers and renowned beauties. The women who laughed at Ellie, then married dashing and wealthy men and effortlessly carried and delivered perfect heirs to their titled husbands. Women so unlike her. Henry had not been publicly associated with any woman since his engagement was announced; the unknown woman had finally claimed him. Ellie could picture her perfectly. Miss Brightling must be spectacular, with golden hair, skin like cream, a tiny waist and a charming laugh. How ghastly.
Even if theirs was not a love match, something about her must have intrigued Henry to make him finally settle down. Ellie wondered if he wrote his fiancée letters describing his pitiful friend, so desperate for companionship she dragged him across the continent. How he was humoring her because he’s such a kind man.
Lifting her chin, Ellie resolved to put such thoughts aside. She was in the capital of arts and culture. She wouldn't spend her days wishing for something she could never have. Henry was her friend, and she was fortunate to have that.
Henry’s pencil scratched over the page in his sketchbook, his eyes squinting as he captured the proportions on paper. “Is the inside as impressive?”
“Wait until you see.”
They felt the change in atmosphere as soon as they stepped into the massive round temple. “It was consecrated as a Roman Catholic church in the seventh century,” Ellie said in a low voice, “but the original pagan architecture remains.” She stopped at the center and pointed straight up at the circular opening at the very top of the building.
“Is that the only source of light for this entire space?”
Ellie took a moment to admire the lines of his profile and neck before bringing her focus back to the pages of the guidebook, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “The oculus is designed to best capture the sun and acts as a sort of sundial, telling the time by its position on the walls.”
They ambled across the floor, studying the rings of sunken gilded coffers and marble columns circling the central dome. As they passed a group of tourists, Henry’s hand went to Ellie’s lower back, keeping her close in the crowd.
Her pulse shot up, the touch of his fingers searing her skin. His profile revealed nothing, no sign the contact was anything out of the ordinary.It’s only Henry, she thought,my friend being caring. Raising her chin, she motioned towards the front door.
“At precisely noon on the spring equinox, the light from the oculus aligns with the doorway of the interior chamber, essentially acting as a spotlight. According to legend, the Roman emperor would enter the Pantheon at exactly that moment, as though he was receiving a sign from the Gods of his power.”
Henry blinked, dropping his hand from her back to rub his chin. Ellie felt the loss of his touch, like she had stepped away from a fire and into the cold.
“Building an entire structure for a single dramatic entrance? That’s an awful lot of work,” Henry said idly, “for one day each year.”
