Daphne felt something wild and wicked take hold. “Let’s walk in the garden,” she said softly. “We can’t.” “We must.” “We can’t.” The desperation in Simon’s voice told her everything she needed to know. He wanted her. He desired her. He was mad for her. Daphne felt as if her heart was singing the aria from The Magic Flute, somersaulting wildly as it tripped past high C. And she thought—what if she kissed him? What if she pulled him into the garden and tilted her head up and felt his lips touch hers? Would he realize how much she loved him? How much he could grow to love her? And maybe—just
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