And he kissed her again, kissed her as if she were the last woman left on the earth, the only woman ever born.
Eventually she pulled away, her dark blue eyes flustered. “This is all so very fast. I'm not sure I understand it.”
“I don't understand it, either,” Robert said with a happy sigh. “But I don't want to question it.” He sat down on the ground, pulling her along with him. Then he lay down on his back.
Victoria was still crouching, looking at him with a trace of hesitancy.
He patted the ground next to him. “Lie down and look at the sky. It's spectacular.”
Victoria looked at his face, alight with happiness, and lowered herself onto the ground. The sky seemed enormous from her vantage point.
“Are the stars not the most amazing thing you've ever seen?” Robert asked.
Victoria nodded and moved closer to him, finding the heat of his body oddly compelling.
“They're there for you, you know. I'm convinced that God put them in the sky just so you could watch them this very evening.”
“Robert, you're so fanciful.”
He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. “I was never fanciful before this day,” he said, his voice serious. “I never wanted to be. But now…” He paused, as if searching for that impossible mix of words that would precisely convey what was in his heart. “I can't explain it. It's as if I can tell you anything.”
She smiled. “Of course you can.”
“No, it's more than that. Nothing I say sounds odd. Even with my closest friends I cannot be completely forthcoming. For example—” He suddenly jumped to his feet. “Don't you find it astounding that humans can balance on their feet?”
Victoria tried to sit up, but her laughter forced her back down.
“Think about it,” he said, rocking from heel to toe. “Look at your feet. They're very small compared with the rest of you. One would think we would topple over every time we tried to stand.”
This time she was able to sit up, and she looked down at her feet. “I suppose you're right. It is rather amazing.”
“I've never said that to anyone else,” he said. “I've thought it all my life, but I never told anyone until now. I suppose I worried people would think it was stupid.”
“I don't think it's stupid.”
“No.” He crouched next to her and touched her cheek. “No, I knew you wouldn't.”
“I think you're brilliant for having even considered the idea,” she said loyally.
“Torie. Torie. I don't know how to say this, and I certainly don't understand it, but I think I love you.”
Her head whipped around to face him.
“I know I love you,” he said with greater force. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me, and I'll be damned if I let myself be ruled by caution.”
“Robert,” she whispered. “I think I love you, too.”
He felt the breath leave his body, felt himself overtaken by such powerful happiness that he couldn't keep still. He pulled her to her feet. “Tell me again,” he said.
“I love you.” She was grinning now, caught up in the magic of the moment.
“Again.”
“I love you!” The words were mixed with laughter.
“Oh, Torie, Torie. I'll make you so happy. I promise. I want to give you everything.”
“I want the moon!” she shouted, suddenly believing that such fancies were actually possible.
“I'll give you everything and the moon,” he said fiercely.
And then he kissed her.
Chapter 2
Two months passed. Robert and Victoria met on every occasion, exploring the countryside, and whenever possible, exploring each other.
Robert told her of his fascination with science, his passion for racehorses, and his fears that he would never be the man his father wanted him to be.
Victoria told him of her weakness for romantic novels, her ability to stitch a seam straighter than a yardstick, and her fears that she would never live up to her father's strict moral standards.
She loved pastries.
He hated peas.
He had the appalling habit of putting his feet up when he sat down—on a table, a bed, whatever.
She always planted her hands on her hips when she was flustered, and never quite managed to look as stern as she hoped.
He loved the way her lips pursed when she was annoyed, the way she always considered the needs of others, and the mischievous way she teased him when he acted too self-important.
She loved the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was exasperated, the way he liked to stop and examine the shape of a wildflower, and the way he sometimes acted domineering just to see if he could rile her.
They had everything—and absolutely nothing—in common.
In each other they found their own souls, and they shared secrets and thoughts that had heretofore been impossible to express.
“I still look for my mother,” Victoria once said.
Robert looked at her oddly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I was fourteen when she died. How old were you?”
“I was seven. My mother died in childbirth.” Victoria's already gentle face softened even more. “I'm so sorry. You barely had a chance to know her, and you lost a sibling as well. Was the baby a brother or a sister?”
“A sister. My mother lived just long enough to name her Anne.”
“I'm sorry.”
He smiled wistfully. “I remember what it felt like to be held by her. My father used to tell her that she was coddling me, but she didn't listen.”