"Well, upon my word, it is Miss Maclaine," he said, laughing softly. He took my hand and bowed. "Good morning to you!"
"Robbie, do not joke!" I said. "I have been desolate without you!"
"Ah, Jessie!" he said. He reached out and touched my cheek, then his hand slid down, his thumb caressing my chin, his fingers strong against the nape of my neck. My loins grew weak with my desire for him. I stared up at him. "Sweet Jessie."
"You must speak to my father," I said after a moment. "Truly, Robbie. You must."
He dropped his hand. "Speak to your father!" he said. "And what, Miss Maclaine, must I say to him? That I have deflowered his daughter and am honor bound to make her my wife?"
The derision in his tone was not new to me; but hearing him speaking those words in that tone sent a thrill of shock over my body, chilling me. "How can you speak of this in jest?" I whispered. "It is what you must do!" He only stared at me. "Please, Robbie!" I whispered, stepping closer to him. "Surely you must love me! Surely you have not forgotten-"
"Forgotten?" He was so close I could feel his breath, smell the wine he had drunk.
"How could I forget?" and then his arms were around me, his mouth on mine.
Long moments passed; I was almost fainting with relief and with desire. Robbie was here, I was in his arms, the weeks of pining for him behind me. Now I would be complete again.
Finally he raised his head; mine was leaning back into the bend of his arm. The light was growing, and I could see his eyes; they stared into mine. "Oh, Jessie, you have put a spell on me!" he said. "I shall need a witch to undo it!"
I smiled at him. "Take me, Robbie."
"Dear God, how I want to!" he said, and kissed my throat, my bosom. "God help me, I want you! I have never wanted any woman so much."
"Then take me," I said again.
He laughed and put me away from himself slightly. "I cannot, here in the garden," he said. "There are people everywhere."
I tried to quiet my heart and breathing. "Then when?" I said, still locked into his eyes.