That thought nudges something in my mind. I remember the cool stones of a drafty castle surrounded by tall shade trees. “At some kind of palace?”
He smiles. “That’s right. Arundel in West Sussex.” He strokes my arm absentmindedly as he speaks. “Your mother was one of the many ladies-in-waiting to Mary Howard. Caused quite a scandal at the time, too—your mother’s stock was considered too common to be a lady-in-waiting, but Mary insisted. You were with her at the country house—just a kid really, only about fourteen at the time, but old enough to catch my eye.” He pauses, his eyes far away. “You were so beautiful then, too—pale skin scattered with freckles and the most amazing rust-colored hair. Anyone who saw you for the most fleeting second back then would never forget.”
I nudge him in the ribs. “So you have a thing for younger girls.”
“Only you,” he says, nudging me back. “Although I didn’t do anything about it until much later. I arranged to have you visit my sister as often as I could—luckily you two got along—just to have you near me. I courted you in baby steps—bringing you small trinkets when I traveled, telling you stories about the people in faraway places.”
“I can’t imagine it took a lot of convincing,” I said, remembering how free and romantic he always seemed.
He glances at me. “It took enough. It wasn’t easy to earn your trust. And then when I finally was able to make you mine, my family strongly disapproved.”
I get up and walk cautiously toward the window, looking out over the city, thinking about the memory of the garden shed and his father’s anger when he caught us together. “I do remember that part. Your father hated me.”
Drew sighs, walking up to put his arms around me, pulling me toward him. “My father didn’t even know you. They had a match already picked out for me—had done since I was a child—and a beautiful upstart wasn’t part of his political agenda. Someone in your position was suitable as a courtesan, yes, but not as a wife.”
I watch the cars as they stream across the Bay Bridge. For once, I’m not afraid of how high up we are. “What did we do?”
“Snuck around a lot at first,” he says. “It took a series of threats to convince my parents that I wasn’t going to back down.”
“Sounds familiar,” I say, wondering what Dad would do if he knew I was here.
He laughs. “It is funny how some patterns repeat themselves. Eventually, we got married in secret, and you made me the happiest man in England. I didn’t need my parents’ approval or a title.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “All I needed was you.”
I think about the grand houses and the servants that surrounded us. “So we were poor?”
“No.” He laughs. “I said I didn’t need the title. They eventually gave it to me anyway. Parents have a way of forgiving their kids for a lot.”
Drew pushes my hair away from my neck and runs strong thumbs up and down either side of my spine. The sensation causes me to melt and eases the tension inside just a little bit.
I turn and wrap my arms around his waist, his blue eyes dark and intent on me. “I’m glad we get to try again.”
As if to test this theory, Drew leans in and kisses me deeply, pressing me against the window, his hands on my hips. My skin comes alive wherever he touches me, and I feel heat radiating as we come together. I close my eyes to see the shadowy memory of another time, the two of us in a cold stone room lit only by a flickering fire, with a rugged wooden bed surrounded by heavy linen curtains.
I slip underneath the silken coverlet, my cheeks flaming with heat, and I wonder if Connor notices in the dim light. There is nothing between us now but thin fabric and a layer of nervous excitement that feels palpable in the drafty room.
“You look beautiful,” Connor says, approaching the bed. “No bride in history has ever been as lovely as you were today.” He kicks his boots off onto the floor, and I sit motionless, watching him, the candles lending flickering shadows to his ruggedly handsome face.
Drew’s hand is trembling as he brushes the hair away from my face, and he inhales sharply. “Through all the years, through every century, I’ve never stopped loving you.” He buries his face in the curve of my neck, tracing the line of my shoulder with his lips. I reach up and tentatively touch his chest, a gesture that feels strangely familiar. For all that’s new between us, there’s a rhythm to his touch that my body recognizes, our hands tracing patterns that became familiar over weeks and years.
Instead of casting my eyes demurely to the ground as Connor disrobes, I watch with a growing intensity as each article of clothing falls to the floor and he finally stands before me totally unashamed. I pull my eyes away from his body and up to his face, and I can see that he’s fighting for control as he slips between the covers.
“We can’t have you with an unfair advantage,” he says, a hint of mirth in his voice. He reaches for the ribbons at the top of my nightdress, inhaling as it falls open around my shoulders. His breath is hot as he kisses my neck, and my body takes over, arching up to meet his in the cocoon of bedclothes that for the moment is all I know of this world.
I press my hands against his chest and Drew responds reluctantly, pushing himself away from me. His face is flushed and his eyes are shining, and I’m wondering if somehow I pulled him into my memory, or if he was just having one of his own. “We should stop,” I say, my breathing ragged.
“Mmm,” he says, his lips on my neck again. “We should. But I don’t want to.”
The stubble on his chin is ticklish as he runs it along my collarbone and I laugh out loud. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
Drew puts both hands on the window above me and looks down into my face. “I wish I could be sure of that.” He bends down and snatches another kiss. “But maybe a dinner break will do us both good. I want to take you out to the best restaurant in the city.”
I honestly haven’t felt like eating in days, but I know how things will go if we stay here. “Okay. I told my parents I wouldn’t be home until curfew.” I look down at my jeans. “But I’m not dressed for anyplace nice.”
Drew holds up one hand. “Hang on,” he says, rushing out of the room. In a few moments he comes back with the black dress he bought me and the platform sandals in the shoebox. He holds them out tentatively. “I never returned these.”
I look at the gorgeous dress and then back to the slightly dirty, crumpled clothes I’ve been wearing all day. I can tell from his face how badly he wants me to wear the things he picked out. I still feel weird about it, but I suppose it’s the least I can do. “They are nice.”
“You can change in the spare bedroom back there,” he says. “I promise I won’t peek.”
I grab the box and dress on the way to the bedroom, not saying a word. After I shut the door, I lay the dress on the bed and position the shoes under it. I can only imagine how much these must have cost. I run my hand over the heavy fabric, just as flashes of another memory race through my mind.
I touch the soft velvet bodice with one finger, almost afraid of such finery.
“For you, my lady,” Connor says, nodding at the exquisite gown and slippers that are spread across the bedclothes.
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle my smile. “Another gown?” I say. “It’s beautiful!”
“We’ve been invited to a midwinter ball at the palace,” he says. “And a lady shan’t be seen in the same gown twice in one season.” He pushes my braid aside and brushes his lips against my neck, and I realize how much pleasure it gives him to provide for me. I feel the heat from his body as he presses close to me. “Although nothing you can put on will ever surpass your natural beauty.”