Page 2 of Thus with a Kiss I Die

My smile died. “Last night, you were supposed to be here in my arms. Nurse would alert my father, Lord Romeo, to our assignation. We would be discovered and forced to wed. It all worked perfectly except—Where were you?” It was my cry of anguish.

Lysander recognized it as such. His expression softened. He seated himself beside me and wrapped his arm comfortingly around my shoulders. Which, by the way, was more physical intimacy than we’d ever previously enjoyed. “I was detained.”

“How?”

“On my way here, a fight broke out on the street before me. Three men, then four, then five, shouting and throwing punches. Then more. I tried to work my way through the expanding brawl. I was desperate to get to you, to enact our clever scheme and thus ensure our betrothal and future happiness.”

Tears filled my eyes and spilled over.

“The prince’s men arrived, breaking it up, hauling everyone off to the dungeons.”

I nodded. As I’d surmised. “You were caught in Prince Escalus’s trap.”

“I didn’t know it at the time. I shouted my name, over and over, begging the prince’s men to pay heed, and at last they did. I was released and sped to Casa Montague, late but ever hopeful, and what greeted my unbelieving ears was—” He stopped. He was unable to speak the fateful words.

“By the news that I was betrothed to Prince Escalus.”

“That was this morning’s news.” Lysander withdrew his arm. “Last night, I was greeted by much masculine mirth and laughter—”

“Mirth?” What toerags my father’s guests had turned out to be! My life had been upended and they werelaughing?

“—and the news that the longtime virgin Lady Rosaline had been despoiled by Prince Escalus.”

“I was not despoiled! It was dark. I didn’t know it was Prince Escalus. He kissed me, and you know what that means.” It means that society judges women unfairly.

Lysander didn’t seem to see it that way. “It means you were despoiled.”

“It was merely a few kisses.” Experienced kisses, expert kisses, if the turmoil they raised was any indication, but I saw no reason to bring that to Lysander’s attention. He seemed to be irritated enough.

“My father was among the men who witnessed the scene. He held one of the torches. He said you were on your back on a bench”—Lysander abruptly stood as if he could no longer bear to sit near—“and inyourmonologue,youmade it clear Prince Escalus had had his hand on your bare legandyou were familiar with his touch.”

“I thought he was you!”

“You thought I’d previously had my hand on your bare leg?” Lysander stepped sideways away from me.

“No. No.” I had to take control of this conversation. “I thought you were the man who kissed me, for we had planned it thus. Remember our plan?”

“I was delayed, so instead you kissed the prince?”

I repeated, “I told you, I thought he was you!”

Lysander stared at me as if he wanted to strangle me.

“You and I, we’ve never exchanged a zealous kiss to seal the indenture of our love. How was I supposed to know the difference between your blushing lips and his?”

CHAPTER2

To me, that was logical.

Apparently, Lysander didn’t view the matter as I did. Leaping up, he said, “You kiss by the book!” and stormed away, leaving me in much the same condition as I was when he arrived, only more wretched and confused.

I put my head in my hands and moaned, then jumped when I heard a thud behind me.

My younger sister Imogene hated to stitch, speak softly, and sit with her knees together. She loved to climb trees, shout, and dig in the dirt. She had just jumped out of the tree that grew beside my alcove and stood looking at me quizzically. “Rosie, you bungled that one.”

“I know, but I don’t know why.”

She seated herself beside me. “You know how men say, ‘All cats are gray in the dark’? And they snigger?”