“Perhaps then you would do well to let me speak, my lord?” Summer teased. She caught his hand, pressing a kiss into his palm. “I spent my days mostly reading, though my brother coaxed me out to practise archery while the weather was fine. Your books were so welcome, for I feared I’d go mad thinking of you.” She looked up at him, biting her lip.
“I feared my memories deceived me,” she whispered. “How could a man like you see so much in me? You, my lord, are brother to the King. Your words fall sweet on my ears now.”
“My lord,” Summer gasped, drowning in his kisses, “Humphrey, stop, please stop.” She couldn’t stop herself kissing him back, pressing close to him, body yearning into his arms. “Humphrey, slow down.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want him, in the least, but being ravished up against a wall with haste was not her idea of a good time. She wanted the luxury of exploration, to tease and play and experiment.