Chapter 32

The door opened before them and Edmund found himself staring into those deep eyes. The hesitant smile echoed the uncertainty Edmund felt rise in him as his throat dried with fear and lust. “Jonas, doll,” Marie said, stepping aside as she pushed Edmund forward, “this is the man I mentioned to you. Edmund Hinton? Philip’s friend?”

She’s mentioned me?Edmund smiled, his mind reeling as he shook Jonas’ offered hand. It was all he could do to keep from bringing the soft flesh to his lips, and the light squeeze of fingers blinded him with a flood of memories—strong arms around his waist as they tumbled among the heady tobacco leaves on his father’s westernmost acres, warm kisses and unbridled passion and lips and arms and the grass beneath him, the sky above them, the sun shining off curls like copper pennies. Did Jonas recall those moments, relegated to the past? Edmund searched those lapis eyes for some hint, some clue, but he couldn’t tell. Perhaps it had been too long.