They walked on for a moment in silence. An owl called from the woods that climbed the hill, once and then again.

Finally she said, "Where are we going?"

He smiled a little. "What makes you think we're going anywhere at all?"

She tugged at his arm. "I know you well enough to tell when you've got a plan, Nathaniel Bonner. And why else would you suddenly get an urge to see the grounds?"

He sent her a sidelong glance. "Maybe I just want to be out-of-doors."

"You can be outside whenever you please, after all."

His expression went very still, and his whole posture changed. He steered her toward a bench under an arbor draped with twisting wisteria.

"Nathaniel?"

"Let me rest my leg here for a minute."

The garden spread out around them, silver stippled in the moonlight. It was a pleasant spot to sit, but Nathaniel's unease made it hard to take any diversion in the fine night.

He said, "I wonder sometimes how Carryck breathes, with so many people around him all day long. Don't it bother you, Boots?"

His tone was easy, but there was a tautness in his hand where it rested on her leg. He was asking something important, and perhaps he did not even realize it himself.

She took up his hand--she wondered sometimes if he knew what an effect even the sight of his hands had on her--and held it between her own two. "Nathaniel. I would wish us home this moment, if I could. This place--" She gestured around them. "None of this means anything to me."

He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder.

"Thank God," he muttered.

"You did not really think I might want to stay in Scotland? Surely you know me better."

He touched her hair, smoothing it back from her face. "I was getting worried. Seeing you like this--" His fingers plucked at her gown. "I don't know, Boots. Seems like you were born to this kind of life."

"Oh, Nathaniel." She pulled his face closer and kissed him. "I left this world of my own free will once before. I was never happy. Why would I want to stay now?"

He shrugged, and she could feel him searching for words. "It ain't an easy life, back in Paradise."

"Ease is highly overrated."

"Is it? I hope you'll still feel that way in ten years or so."

"Nathaniel Bonner, do you doubt me?"

He pulled her close. "Never in this world."

This kiss was nothing playful; it was rough and sure, as purposeful as the hand that cupped her breast. He tasted of red wine and spiced peaches; his cheeks were rough with new beard.

When he let her catch her breath she said, "You take delight in putting me in these awkward situations."

"Want me to stop?" Even while his hands slipped into her bodice.

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said, pulling his face back down to kiss him of her own accord. "Nothing so rash as that."

A whirlwind of a kiss. She let it pull her along, feeling the center of herself go liquid and soft, no matter what her rational mind was saying about this exposed place, the nearness of the castle, the many windows where light still burned.

He lifted her so that she knelt over his lap, her skirts flung out. The shoulder of her gown had slipped to expose one breast and he tipped her backward to nuzzle, licking and suckling until she gasped with it.

"Your leg?" She touched his thigh where it was bandaged beneath his breeches.

"Never mind my leg." He caught her hand and put it where he wanted it. And then his own hands worked their way under petticoats and up her thighs, thumbs seeking. He was short of breath, this man who could run a mile without a hitch or pause, and how that pleased her. To have him want her so much: it was a gift he gave to her. And still, the wind moved in the gnarled limbs of the fruit trees and called her out of herself.

She raised her head. "Nathaniel. Perhaps we should--"

But he cut her off. Used his mouth and tongue and the strength of his desire to distract her, drawing her so close that she could not have taken note of the rest of the world even if it were to burst into flame. His hands busied themselves with silk and gauze and the flies on his breeches. Knuckles rasped against her tenderest flesh and then he lifted her, spread fingered.

"Aye," his breath warm against her ear as he fit himself to her, seeking and finding, and losing himself in the process. "We should."

They started back by way of the north side of the castle, arm in arm.

"You're asleep on your feet, Boots. Maybe I should carry you."

It was a tempting idea, as each and every one of her bones felt twice its normal weight.

"I should make you carry me," she said. "Perhaps then you would begin to see the advantage of keeping this kind of activity in the bedchamber."

His thumb traveled down her spine. "What kind of activity is that?"

"Public fornication," she said.

He choked on a laugh, and she pinched him.

"You needn't be so very satisfied with yourself. Someday we will get caught out. And I will leave the explaining to you."

"But I am satisfied," he said, pulling her in close as his hand traced her backside. "And so are you, darlin'. Ain't that explanation enough?"

She batted his hand away. "I should like to see you make that argument to Mr. MacQuiddy," Elizabeth said. "I believe he would box your ears, though he should have to climb up on a ladder to do it."