Sara couldn’t stop the quick laugh. “You and I have different definitions of pleasant, sir.”
He grinned at that. “For me, then. I have been pleasant in comparison to other behavior previously demonstrated. Come and sit with me.” His tone had turned cajoling. “I can further practice my good behavior, perhaps soon even be suitable for genteel company.”
His playful tone relaxed her. She laughed again and followed him to the open table at the side, half shrouded in darkness. She settled her skirts under the table, feeling her knees brush against his. He situated the plate between them and took a seafood patty, popping it into his mouth. Gesturing to a volunteer, he requested two glasses of wine to be brought to their table, indicating his cane. The volunteer hurried away to do his bidding.
“You are shameless,” Sara accused.
“Guilty,” he replied with a grin. “If I have to live with it, I might as well make it useful when I can.”
“How did it happen?” she asked. She quickly closed her mouth and looked down at her hands folded on the table. “I am sorry, I did not mean to pry.”
“I fell from my horse when I was fifteen,” he answered. “I was fine until the rearing horse landed on my leg. The surgeon did his best.”
“Dear heavens, you were very fortunate to not have lost it completely.”
“You apologize quite a bit. Why is that?”
Sara pulled back at the change in subject. “Should I model myself after you and throw my conscience away?”
“Not at all. But it seems your conscience overwhelms you. I am surprised you do not buckle under the weight of it.”
“I thought you were going to practice pleasantness.”
He selected a sweet cake and offered it to her. At her shake of head, he put it into his mouth. “You are correct. I shall be more diligent, but be sure to tell me if I am failing. Tell me, have you heard from your brother recently?”
Sara shook her head. “No. I have not expected to. Adam writes infrequently. Even if he were more prolific, the nature of being on a ship prevents regular access to the post.”
“Ah. So no sea stories for you.”
She smiled. “I have been reading some of Hakluyt’s stories recently for entertainment.”
“Hakluyt? The minister who wrote down sailors’ stories?”
Sara nodded. “Yes. I find the tales he relates absolutely fascinating. I just finished reading of Frobisher’s first voyage. I cannot imagine what it would have been like to be the first one to see all those ice fields. Ice and snow for as far as the eye can see. And to think there are people who live there. Incredible, is it not?”
“This sort of thing amuses you?”
“Does it not amuse you? Think of the adventures one may have.”
“So you are an adventure seeker? You do not strike me as the sort.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He smiled and shook his head. “What sort of adventures have you pursued?”
She bristled at his mocking tone. “I fail to understand what I have done to deserve your mockery, sir. I do not ridicule that which amuses you.”
He leaned forward on his elbows, challenge glinting in his eyes. “That whole ‘treat your neighbor as yourself’ bit again? I doubt you would mock my amusements if you even knew what they were.”
Swallowing, she lifted her chin in uncharacteristic defiance and answered his challenge. “Try me.” Her voice was a squeak.
His brows lifted in surprise. “Very well. My dreams amuse me.”
“Indeed? What sort of dreams amuse one such as you?”
“I believe I’ve mentioned it before, Nymph. I dream of you.”
Sara stared at him. He had been serious about that?
“Oh, yes,” he said in a raspy voice, his eyes darkening into clear, hot springs. “I dream of you.”
Had she spoken out loud?
“I dream that you come to me at night, your body veiled in a thin night rail, hugging your curves. Your hair is undone and the curls tease your nipples into tight buds as you walk toward me.” His gaze flickered over her hair and settled on her lips. He licked his own. “You open your mouth without hesitation when I kiss you and our tongues touch and learn each other anew every night. I touch your neck, feel your pulse beat and speed up when I trail my fingers down to your bosom.”