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She was quite certain she heard her cape rip against the tree bark as he raised her on to a protruding branch, but lost all interest in sartorial matters as Edge covered her mouth with his. His body was warm against her in the chill air. The puckered seams of his leather gloves rubbed against her jaw and neck and her skin prickled. What would it feel like if they pushed under the layers of clothing that separated them, over her bare skin, here in the empty darkness of a city square when any moment someone might pass by...
The same thought appeared to occur to Edge as well. Even as his hands slipped beneath her cloak, moulding over her body, he drew back, his breathing as shallow as hers.
‘Damnation, Sam. You make me do things I never thought...and, no, that is not a compliment so do not look so smug.’
‘You cannot possibly see what I look like in this darkness.’
‘I can feel your smugness. Hell, let’s get this over with. And when I find Rafe I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life for making me waste my time like this.’
‘I am rather enjoying myself.’
‘That is what I’m afraid of. Remember, Mr Soane is a good friend of Poppy’s and one of the premier collectors of antiquities as well as the architect of the Bank of England.’
‘Good for him. What is your point?’
He gave a strangled huff.
‘Behave. No climbing on anything.’
‘Is there anything to climb on?’
‘Actually there is. The whole house is a warren of rooms and antiquities, including a most exquisite bust thought to be of Nefertari and—’
‘I think you are the one in danger of losing your concentration in there, Edge. Never mind, I shall remind you discreetly if you forget yourself, never fear.’ She shook out her cape and set off across the garden towards the house, but Edge caught her arm, pulling her to a halt.
‘What is it, Edge?’
‘It just occurred to me... Do you think they might have heard about...the books? People like them aren’t likely to have read them, are they?’
Even in the dark she saw the alarm on his face and actually considered lying.
‘Of course they are likely to have read them. Edge, your books are as successful and anticipated as Scott’s and Byron’s poems.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. There are no points of comparison. They are novels. These people are serious scholars.’
‘All the more reason for them to read them, then. Think of Cousin Huxley—he was fascinated with how accurate they were and convinced they must have been the work of a scholar and one well acquainted with Egypt and its culture. But even if they weren’t, how many people can create a door into another world that people want to visit again and again judging by the number of editions? Your books are brilliant.’
‘You are not an impartial party here, Sam.’
‘I am far more impartial than you, Bunny. I dare say you wouldn’t be as white as a bleached bone if you’d written some boring old pamphlet about irregularities in the succession in the Middle Kingdom dynasties.’
His mouth curved, but he flattened it again.
‘I only want to go in, find out what we can, and leave. I don’t want... Damn Durham’s son. I should have ignored you and forced him to print a retraction. And wrung his neck.’
‘After the blistering lecture you heaped on that dolt’s head he won’t be speaking your name again in this century, but you know full well denial only feeds gossip. But that is not the point. The point is that despite being furious at you for hiding the truth from me I am so proud of you I would have the words “I am married to the author of the Desert Boy books” embroidered on my dress.’
‘For God’s sake, Sam!’
‘Well, I am burstingly proud. I always knew you were brilliant, but this is in a class of its own. I refuse to allow you to be ashamed of writing what anyone else would give his soul to the devil to create.’
‘Hell, it feels like I have at the moment and he’s about to exact payment.’
Sam fisted her hands in his coat and raised herself on tiptoe, brushing a butterfly-wing kiss to his tense mouth.
‘Brilliant, Edge. Magical. You make people happy. Revel in it.’
He groaned and hauled her against him, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that coaxed out her soul all over again. For a long moment afterwards they stood in the dark, their breathing slowing, his hands moving gently on her back. The words in her heart hovered inside her, but she held back. Edge had enough on his mind at the moment. Finally he pressed a light kiss to her lips and stepped back.
‘So you won’t mind if I tell them you are the illustrator?’
