She lifted the handkerchief to touch it to his cheek and, as she did, two pieces of jewelry fell out: a hair clasp of silver, and a pendant, a long chain slithering after it.

"Oh," she breathed, picking up the chain so that the single pearl enclosed in a clutch of silver petals and curling leaves twirled to catch the candlelight.

"It was my mother's," said Nathaniel. "And the wedding ring, too. She left them to me to keep for Hannah, but I asked her and she thinks you should have them for now."

Elizabeth picked up the hair clasp, a wide lozenge of silver etched with a pattern of winding flowers.

"Was this your mother's, too?"

"No, I bought that in Albany. I kept thinking about your hair, the color of it spread out, how it put the fisher pelts to shame. He paused. "And so I bought it for you. You'll be thinking me extravagant."

"I'm thinking that you are a love," Elizabeth said, blinking hard. "Shall I put it in my hair now?"

"No," he said firmly. "I don't want your hair up right now. But will you wear this?" He touched the silver chain.

Elizabeth was already turning, gathering her plait away to expose her neck. The pearl touched the hollow of her throat and slid down between her breasts while Nathaniel's fingers worked at the nape of her neck, his breath on her hair. Elizabeth felt her skin rising, every nerve awakening. His hands moved to her shoulders, and then there was his mouth, warm and open below her ear. She heard herself gasping, a strange, inarticulate sound.

"Do you like it?"

She flexed and turned in his arms, rising on her knees to come closer to him, and hugged him with all her strength. For once, she had no words and so she just held him.

"I'll take that as a yes." He grinned.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, taking his face between her hands to kiss him briefly, rubbing her cheek against his, enjoying its roughness. "Yes, I like it. Yes. Thank you."

His hands were on her waist, where they moved up and down, slowly.

"You're welcome," he said, pulling her even closer, leaning in and then away, hesitating still.

Elizabeth wondered at him, that he did not start what they both wanted to start. His hands drew slow circles under her arms, the thumbs stretching out to trace the swell of her breasts, but he was content to watch her face, it seemed. She was not content, not at all. Now that he was here with her after so long.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"Not a thing in the world," he said huskily. But still he didn't kiss her; there was just the sliding pressure of his hands, and the sweep of his thumbs.

She met his eye and held it.

"There's no hurry, Boots," he said easily, drawing her forward to kiss her, finally, just a brushing and then he was gone. "There's no one in the world to interrupt us, and nowhere to go." With his hand covering the small of her back, he brought her up against him and pressed his mouth to her temple, traced a path with his lips to her ear. The other hand slid up under her shirt to cup a breast at that moment that he found her mouth and kissed her in earnest.

"Unless you'd like to talk, just now," he said a good time later.

"You make me shiver so," she murmured.

Nathaniel laughed and buried his face in her neck. "Shivering is just the start of it."

"Of what?" she asked.

"Of this," he said, his hands moving again.

"This..." Elizabeth echoed. "What do you call this?"

He did not laugh this time, but she saw something else in his face, a kind of pleasure and power and satisfaction. Her lack of experience and her curiosity aroused him. She was aware of this, slowly. She could taste it in his kiss, feel it in the way his mouth moved on hers.

"I've read about it," she said. "But I'd like to know what you call this."

He stilled suddenly, surprised. "What have you read about?"

"This—" she said with an edge of impatience. "What goes on between men and women. My uncle's library is very extensive, and I have read all of it. In the Sumnia Theologica Thomas Aquinas most usually uses the term carnal intercourse, and then there's coition, or vera copula, but it is hard for me to think of—us—in those terms. I remember a medical text very clearly which used the term venery. I think to the effect "The Passions of the Mind have great Influence, as also excessive Venery." Although more commonly I think that word is used to refer to love of the hunt." Seeing the disbelieving look on Nathaniel's face, she stopped.

"Go on," he said.

"Well," she said slowly. "There were other terms. Sexual congress and consummation, and of course the biblical fornication, but as we are married—" Her voice trailed away.

"Vera copula?" Nathaniel echoed. Elizabeth felt herself begin to flush, not with embarrassment this time, but with irritation.

"It's a simple question, Nathaniel," she said. "I just would like to know what you call this act, as almost all of the terms I have read do not seem appropriate."

He was smiling at her, and she didn't like it. She began to pull away, but he held her tight.

"Let me go."

"Oh, no."

"Why are you laughing at me?" she demanded, her throat tight with longing and mortification.

"I'm not laughing at you," he said, dipping his head to kiss her, but she turned away and he caught the crest of her cheek instead.