She turned back to look at him. "I'm not a baroness yet," she pointed out.

"And you are extraordinarily pretty," he said. "There you are. And you at least will be a baroness one day. Do you know how many people I have to kill to get anywhere near a torc?"

"And you still wouldn't be a baroness," Dierdre answered sweetly. "Though you are extremely pretty, too. And you won't need to kill anyone, you'll get one when I inherit Brideslea."

"Another benefit, good neighbor." His thumbs rolled in slow circles down the length of her spine, fingertips spread across her back. He nuzzled aside her hair and kissed her neck.

"As long as you don't get it into your head to kill my mother," Dierdre answered. She shivered, and rolled her shoulders again. "You're incorrigible, you know."

"You're inspiring," he countered. One hand slid up her throat, tipping her chin upward so that he could kiss her. "And I miss you."

She reached up, and took hold of a handful of his shirt. "I miss you, too," she said, kissing him back. Her other hand slipped up over his cheek.

He kissed her back, deeply, her jaw cupped in his hand. His other hand stole down to her lap, gently picked up both gown and thread, and laid them aside. He tugged on her hand, urging her to stand.

She laughed, lightly, and gave him an amused-but-chastising look, shaking her head as she rose to her feet. "I'll have you know, I'm only going along with this because you're exceptionally pretty and give wonderful backrubs."

He led her by the hand toward the bed. "And I only want you lying flat so I can carry on rubbing your back," he said innocently. "Although I will not say no if anything more comes of it."