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She rolled to face him. “I didn’t mean to insult you when I asked you not to purchase gifts. Do you understand why I felt that way?”
He shrugged. “You said you don’t want anything from me.”
“No,” she countered softly. “I said I don’t wantobjectsfrom you, James. No tokens. No grand gifts. Those I could receive from a suitor, or my broth—family. But fromyou…I want a great deal more.”
She tugged at his shirt near his waistband and slipped her hand underneath. Trailing her fingers on his abdomen, she gazed into his eyes, her own still luminous. “I don’t need cold metal and stones in a jewelry case. What you’ve given me—awakened in me, taught me—could never be purchased, and is so much more valuable.”
James pulled her close, inhaling her fragrance from her warm, soft neck. The fresh and sweet scent of the opulent blossoms on the branches above them was fine.
Clara’s scent—thathe couldn’t live without in this moment.
The force of that unbidden thought jolted him. He released her and rolled onto his back, as if his mind was on the stars and not on the radiance next to him.
He needed no one else—he’d learned that lesson already! His father died when he was but a babe; he lost his mother as a boy; the Robertsons rejected him as a man.
No good came of needing others.
My acquaintanceships do not involve sentimentality.
James couldn’t reconcile his words with his hunger for this woman, which seemed stronger each time they met.
My passion for her body is powerful.
The thought wasn’t untrue, but it fell flat. Could that truly explain how he found himself hanging on her every word as they sat on the floor of a greenhouse? How beguiled he was every time that one particular section of her unruly, wavy hair fought its way out of her bun?
Trepidation grew with the realizations, and he tried to shrug them off.
“Our time in the bedchamber has been diverting, but we don’t want to tire of it too quickly. This jaunt outside my bed will make our time in it more interesting.”
He closed his eyes. Had he truly spoken the ill-advised words aloud?
Ye dobber!
He rolled back to her, ready to make amends, unable to stand the thought of hurting her.
“Why the orangery, James?” she asked quietly before he could speak. “Yes, you remembered my fondness for oranges—but why would you wish to indulge it?”
James felt the truth of his answer settle over him. It was so powerful he couldn’t suppress it.
“Seeing and hearing you enjoy that orange is a memory I’ll never part with. I knew little about you, but I longed to know it all. Knowing your penchant for the fruit, how could Inotindulge it?”
“Oh, James.” Clara laid her head on his chest. “You wanted me to enjoy an orange again.”
Nay—God help me, I want to be the orange.
James knew it went far deeper than wanting her mouth on him. He longed for her to delight in his presence, his essence; to want only him to the point of eschewing others.
He shifted his thoughts, knowing he couldn’t avoid them forever, but needing to clear his mind before he spoke something aloud that shattered his pride and their agreement.
He pulled her even closer, half atop him. “Besides, I didn’t have good fortune with the tropical birdhouse,” he shared truthfully instead. “The keeper insisted on meeting us in advance—to make sure that the birds took a liking.”
Her laughter shook his ribcage.
“I’m not jesting.” The shaking increased. “I’ll continue my search for another.”
“No! There’s no need. The great number of birds in my parlor—it’s only because I inherited my Aunt Violet’s collection.”
“Oh.”
