His mouth tasted warm and slightly of wine. A warning somewhere deep within her sounded, but she pushed it away.

“Why would you help me?” he asked softly and she felt his breath and the movement of his lips against her throat. His hands spanned her waist. Before she could answer, his lips found hers again and he bent her backward, leaning over her.

For a few dizzy seconds she couldn’t think of anything other than the kiss. “Everyone needs a little help,” Petra said, struggling to find her voice. His lips returned to her throat, trailed down the side of her neck and stopped below her ear.

“I do not want or need your help,” Emory said, running his hands up and down her back.

“Not exactly true,” Petra said, pulling away so she could see his face. “Kissing, for example, is very difficult to do alone. Tell me what you want with Chambers and I’ll kiss you again.”

He laughed. “You want to kiss me. Again.”

She backed away and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I think I learned in biology class that you want to kiss me more.”

He took a step toward her, and she bit her lip.

“Biology class? What other secrets did you learn in this biology class?”

She thought about everything science had learned since the 1600s and smiled. At the moment, she didn’t want to talk about micro-matter.

“Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine,” she said, trying to sound calm, despite the rioting inside. Self preservation told her to run. Her emotions told her to lean into him. Her sensible self said she didn’t know Emory and what she did know didn’t make any sense. But he could hurt her. A lot. I’m not safe with Emory, she told herself and managed to take two steps back.

“I’m sure you’d find my secrets impossible to believe,” he said in a ragged voice, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m pretty sure you won’t believe my secrets, either. I wouldn’t believe me, but you can trust me to spy on Chambers.”

He reached her in one step and placed his hands on either side of her face. Staring into her eyes, he said, “I don’t want you around Chambers --”

“You’re the one who put me there,” she reminded him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “Tell me what to look for.” She leaned toward him and kissed him on the lips. Remembering what Rohan had said, she whispered, “I can help. Tomorrow Anne is coming to the manor with another tapestry. I can watch Chambers and pass information to Anne, but first, I need to know what I’m looking for. And why.”

“I am not as interested in Chambers as I am in you.” Emory let her go and turned. “I shouldn’t be interested in you. This is wrong.”

She touched his arm, gently. “I agree.” She steeled herself and tried to sound more rational than her clamoring emotions. She knew girls who hooked up with a different guy every weekend; they seemed to be able to casual kiss. That she’d never been interested in making out for make-out sake didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. Girls in the locker-room called it NCMO, noncommittal make-out. “A kiss can just be a kiss.”

“It wasn’t just a kiss for me.” He intertwined their fingers and rubbed his thumb on the inside of her wrist.

Her blood thrummed beneath his touch. “It has to be,” she said, squeezing his hand as he pulled her to him. “I don’t belong here.”

“But you’re here now.” He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “How long will you stay?”

She smiled. “Until I can find my way home. And until then, as long as I’m at the manor, I’ll help you with your Chambers problem.”

“Why?”

“You tell me.”

He sighed. “You mustn’t endanger yourself. Or take unnecessary risks.”

She frowned. Why is he such an adult? she wondered. Why does he act older than my dad?

Then he placed his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her deeply. Suddenly even putting him in the same sentence as her dad seemed creepy. He murmured, “Promise me or the discussion is over.”

She wanted him to kiss her again, but held his lips just a few inches away from hers. Finally, she said, “I promise I’ll be very, very careful.”

“Good.” He stepped away, and she felt cold without him near her. “Chambers is dangerous. Worse, he’s impassioned.”

“About what?”

“He wants to destroy the translations of the King James Bible.”

“The King James Bible?”

“You know of it?”

“Sure, the whole world knows of it.” Petra immediately realized her mistake.

He looked baffled. “How can that be? It has yet to be distributed.”

Petra thought quickly and avoided the question. Remembering the long and boring prayer Chambers had given over every meal at the manor, she thought, What a hypocrite. Why pray if you don’t believe?

Turning from Emory’s gaze, she stared up into the leaves of the alders and watched the shadows filtering through the branches. She didn’t know what she thought about God, but the universe seemed too perfectly balanced to exist without a creator. “Is Chambers an atheist? Is that why he’s trying to stop the translations?”

Emory held up his hand. “No more questions. Why would you say the whole world knows of the King James Bible, when I assure you, the whole world does not. A vast majority of the world knows nothing of any Bible.”

“That was a question.” Petra folded her arms across her chest.

He opened his mouth and then quickly shut it. Obviously, he’d told her more than he thought safe.

She was struggling too. She’d just met Emory and sometime soon, she had to return to Royal Oaks and never see him again.

Emory took a step closer. “What I meant was no more questions from you.”

“That’s a double standard, isn’t it? You’re allowed questions, but I’m not?” Petra backed away, and twigs snapped beneath her feet. He didn’t get to make up rules.

“That was, I believe, two questions.” Emory stood in a shaft of sunlight, looking annoyed.

Petra sighed and wished they’d go back to kissing, but that didn’t seem right or responsible. “How’s this, I’ll answer every question you ask for every question you answer.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“You don’t have to play my game,” she told him, “but then I don’t have to play yours.”

He rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Why weren’t you hurt when I saw the sword go through you?”

“Who said you got to go first?” He shook his head. “Where are you really from?”

“You already know that, Royal Oaks.” She stamped her foot. “I answered you, now you have to answer me.”

Looking up at the heavens, Emory said, “I am immortal.”

He had to be lying, yet goose-bumps rose on her arms.

“I believe it is your turn,” he said, his voice hard.

She sniffed and her voice wavered. “You don’t get to just say you’re immortal, because that doesn’t happen without... something.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Would you believe in pixie dust? Dragon’s blood? Or, perchance a magical potion?”

“If you have to think up options, you’re lying.”

“I gave you my answer. Do I get another question?”

“No!”

He took her hand and pulled her to him so that she rested against his chest. She thought about pulling away, but not much. She let his warmth swallow her.

“I refuse to play this fool’s game any longer,” he said.

“That’s because you’re lying and losing,” she said, smiling.

He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his lips to hers. “I definitely think I am winning. I am the victor.”

“Me, too,” she said, and for a few minutes, she felt lost to everything else.

“Come,” he said, pulling her with him. “I must return you to the manor.”

“And to my spy duties,” Petra said, smoothing down her dress.

Emory groaned. “Is there any chance you might remain in your room?”

“You didn’t tell me why Chambers wants to destroy the Bible,” she said, as they walked toward the distant spires.

“I suppose that means no.”

She cut him a glance. “What do you think?”

“I think that you would be safe in your room.”

She laughed. “Sure. Whatever. Don’t tell me, but I could help.”

Emory held her hand as they walked through the grove. After a moment of obvious internal debate he said, “Chambers and unfortunately many others believe that only priests, those who have studied and been ordained by the church, should be allowed access to the Bible. They believe all laymen need a mediator with God.” He must have read her puzzled expression because he added, “In other words, priests.”

“It’s a power thing,” Petra guessed.

Emory smiled. “Yes. A power thing.”

“Well, they won’t be successful.”

He studied her. “How can you be sure?”

Thinking about all the hotels all over the world with a Bible on every bedside table, she smiled. “I just am.”

Suddenly, Anne’s being there made perfect sense. “You’d said Anne’s brother had been killed for truth and light.”

Emory nodded. “He was killed protecting the translators.”