“My lord, you are the King. It cannot be so.” Summer made herself meet his eyes. “I would entrust myself to your hands at any time. But,” she hesitated, searching his face turned down to hers, “why? You must have overheard me.” She coloured, but pressed on. “I meant to keep my feelings locked in my heart.”
He looked at her and then turned away, moving from her side.
“I do not wish you to think that I did such things because I am King or because I wished to take advantage of your thoughts and of your heart.” he said, and he sighed, “In truth… I know not how to feel about such things.”
Summer said, softly, “I could never think such. You are not such a man. Have I not said so before? I wish I could say, I will cease to love you, but I cannot. God has shaped me so, to love you, for your kindness and your wisdom.” Kneeling again, she seized his hand and kissed it. “You cannot take advantage of the willing heart. And I give you all mine.”
He knelt down beside her and he took her hand, “Please, do not do such things, I do not like to consider myself as a King when I am with you – but you know of such things, you know how the weight of the crown would ruin such things.”
Henry looked down at their hands.
“I do,” Summer sighed. “But surely God does not mean us to — to,” she broke off, unable to find the right words. “My lord, may I … I wish that you would kiss me again … “