“How many guesses do I get?”
“Three, but if you get it wrong the first time, I shall be quite wounded.”
“Bollocks to that.”
“Such language, my lady! Where did your sweet tongue learn such vile terminology?”
“Probably from you.”
Miles pulled Jocunda to his chest. “When’s your flight?”
“Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock.”
“Well, then, good luck.” A smile on his lips, he lowered his lips to hers, guided by instinct in candlelight. He had no idea if he would ever see her again, but they would have this one night together before she flew away.