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T he entire island sat in twilight as Finley kicked dirt over the remains of the fire.

There was no wine left. Nothing at all to eat.

And if Analise didn’t return to Orchard Park, Pickwick was likely to send out a search party.

Finley had told her about David, punctuating his stories with a passionate kiss, or the brush of his fingertips along her skin.

“I need to return,” she finally said, not wanting to leave him and unsure what today had been about. What it meant. “Ware’s staff will grow concerned and I’m starving.” She gave him a pointed look.

“You’ll never let that go, will you? That I ate the roast beef.”

“Probably not,” Analise admitted.

“When you meet Bates,” he said with a great deal of frustration, “you’ll understand why I abandoned my breakfast.”

His words hinted at a future together, though they hadn’t discussed what would happen once he rowed her back to shore.

“I’ll get you back across. Don’t argue.”

She came to her feet and took up her leather satchel. The wine had made her lightheaded given she’d had little to eat. “You don’t have to row me over.”

“I do, Analise.” His voice was firm. “I can always borrow a horse from Ware to get home. You, on the other hand, are likely to fall out of the rowboat.” Finley took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “You are a bit foxed, my little bug collector.”

“Only a bit,” she agreed, a lovely sensation filling her at his gentle regard. “Because there was nothing left to eat.”

Finley rolled his eyes at her in a dramatic fashion, pulling her towards the rowboat. Without a word, he picked her up and carried her through the shallow water, placing her gently on the seat in the boat. “Stay here. I’ll grab the basket.”

A few moments later he was in the boat with Analise, the oars in his hands. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched with each stroke. She couldn’t possibly look away. Leaning forward, Analise carefully placed her hands on his thighs.

“What are you about, my little entomologist?”

“I want to kiss you,” she whispered. “Whether I never see you again after tonight, I want to kiss you.”

“Why wouldn’t you see me again? I thought we’d agreed.” He set down the oars with a frown. “I bloody well intend to see you. Even if I have to ruin you in a rowboat.” He cocked his head. “It would be ruination, wouldn’t it?”

“Shamefully yes. Though I’ll be thirty on October 2nd.”

“What a coincidence.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be thirty on October 3rd. A sign that things are meant to be.” He hesitated. “Do you want to be ruined in a rowboat, Analise?”

“I think I do. The ruination, at least.” She wasn’t sure about the rowboat. Seemed rather unsafe.

Finley reached for her, tasting of wine and sin, his lips warm against her own. He struggled to lay down in the rowboat, one foot hanging over the side. Still, he managed to relieve Analise of her shirt, then the remains of her chemise, which he carelessly tossed. Her trousers came next.

A whimper came from her at the touch of his fingers tracing along the curve of her breast.

“Analise,” he said moments before a hungry pair of lips circled one nipple, laving the edges, nibbling as if she were a bit of cheese from the basket. “Damn it,” he hissed after his head made contact with the seat of the rowboat.

“Possibly not ruination,” she whispered.

“I don’t see how I can possibly.” He tried to wedge himself closer and only succeeded in hitting his head once more.

“I’ll become addled if this continues.” A laugh came from him.

“I can wait until you’re in my bed.” He pressed a kiss to the pulse beating in her throat. “But there are other ways to ruin you.”

He sat back on his knees and regarded her, before his mouth lowered between her thighs.

Oh. Goodness. Analise clutched his hair, tugging on the silky strands. The press of his tongue glided along her slit, torturing her in all the best ways possible.

“This is rather unexpected,” she whimpered.

Finley raised his head. “Isn’t it?”

He lowered once more, mouth moving over Analise in a manner than had her writhing about in the small boat. She caught sight of the night sky, stars dazzling bright before the pleasure struck her, sharp and intense. Analise cried out his name, voice echoing over the lake, as his hands held her hips.

“I’m fairly certain I’ve compromised you.” Finley curled his body around her, large and warm, while Analise tried to regain control of her breathing. “Do you feel ruined, Analise?”

“Completely,” she whispered as her eyes began to close.

“Good.” He tucked her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Taking her shirt, he threw it over her sated form. “Don’t worry.” Finley nuzzled along her throat. “I’ll do the right thing.”