The front porch light was burning, but Ned's steps were slow. Nancy's skin was warm under the thin, delicate fabric of her dress, and he wanted nothing more than another hour with her. Despite her protests that she needed to return, that she had an early day and he did too… well. Responsibilities and sober behavior weren't compatible with many of their experiences.
Which was the point, really.
Ned silently gestured for her to join him on the porch swing, and she did, one silken eyebrow raised. She still wore his sweater, and pulled it a little tighter around her. The gossamer dress apparently did little to ward off the evening breeze, but the pale blue-green suited her well, bringing out the sapphire-blue of her lovely eyes.
It was in moments like this one that Ned knew he was utterly smitten, but the knowledge held no heat or shame. She was beautiful and fascinating. He counted himself lucky to be hers.
And then she laced her fingers between his, and a slight shudder went down Ned's spine. Something about the intimacy was just this side of shocking.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
All of what he had to tell her fled as they leaned together, lips already parted, her arm sliding around his shoulders. They kissed with the desperation of nightfall and parting, a too-brief visit during a too-brief trip.
Ned was breathless when they parted, his heart pounding, all of him very willing to scoop her up into his arms and ferry her to some secluded spot for more. She nuzzled his cheek and Ned stifled a groan.
"What is it?" Her breath was warm on his skin, and he swallowed.
"When you come up for the dance next week…"
She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "'When,' not 'if,'" she commented, with a smile. "That's a good start."
"I've been told in no uncertain terms that you aren't to stay at Omega Chi."
Her blue eyes widened with shock and hurt. Then she shook her head slightly. "Has something changed?"
"Mostly that when we thought we were alone in the house… we weren't."
One side of her lips quirked up. "Oh."
He nodded, holding her gaze. "Technically, given what they know, they could have expelled me from the house on a violation of the morality policy."
"But they haven't."
He shook his head. "Just a private conversation with a theatrically 'concerned' expression on the president's face, followed by a round of smirking congratulations."
Nancy laughed. "Surely it was seen as a positive for you."
"Of course," Ned responded immediately. "Very much so. It's just that it looks bad."
She released his hand to cross her arms. "Does not," she responded easily. "I'll meet with him. I'll need a copy of the school charter, but—"
Ned held up a palm. "A moment, legal juggernaut. I've found someplace else to go. That way we won't disturb them, and we can take our time."
She raised her eyebrow again. "Not a cheap hotel," she murmured.
"Very definitely not. It's a cottage."
She relaxed a little, folding her arms. "Go on," she replied.
-
While Nancy had packed light—it was to be a brief trip, after all, and she was economical in most things—Ned still insisted on carrying her suitcase and small toiletries case. Given the unpaved terrain, the faint path that was mostly overgrown, she was grateful for his gallantry. He hadn't exaggerated the seclusion, apparently.
The trees were close here, the foliage overhead a solid leafy roof, though the hints of dappled green-toned sunlight lent it a faintly romantic air rather than a gloomy one. She saw a hint of a white picket fence through the trees, wide-trunked and impossibly tall, and then—
"Oh. Oh, Ned, it's lovely."
"Cottage" was the proper term for it. The small house reminded her, in terms of dimensions, of many a cabin she had occupied at various summer camps. The roof was done in charming scalloped gingerbread style, and boasted trim blue-gray shutters. She was pleasantly surprised that it seemed in good repair, with shining panes of glass in the screened windows, and she wondered whether Ned had cajoled his fraternity brothers into a quick sprucing-up to soften the smarting ostracism.
She knew from her experience with them that Ned's fraternity brothers found her altogether intriguing, and knowing that she had eyes—and heart—for no one beyond Ned might have inspired some jealousy. Ned certainly had plenty of jealousy.
And—
She gave her head a little shake, dismissing the thought, as Ned pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door. He opened it and stood back with a little flourish and smile.
No. Ned was jealous, and Ned didn't enjoy sharing her with anyone, but this didn't feel like subterfuge. Even if it were, she couldn't make herself angered by it. The prospect of entirely-alone time with Ned had been altogether too delicious to pass up.
"Did you force some quaint elf out?"
Ned chuckled. "Apparently the cottage was initially inspired by some graduate student who took Thoreau far too seriously. I'm happy to report that indoor plumbing has been added since that era."
She hadn't even considered that, and smiled at the rudimentary kitchen, complete with a small refrigerator that rattled to itself beneath the counter. It was all one room, with a separate bathroom boasting a tub and sink.
"Oh. It's lovely."
"Is it?"
She glanced back to see a faintly anxious expression on his face, and closed the distance between them, sliding her arms around his neck. "I think it's absolutely perfect," she replied. "A sweet little hideaway."
He smiled. "I do feel that you'd be safer at the fraternity house," he admitted, idly trailing his fingers up her spine in a way that had her nearly squirming with delight. "But at least this way if you're out catching saboteurs or spies until three o'clock in the morning, you won't be rousing anyone to unlock the front door."
She smiled. "Because you'll be with me," she said, searching his gaze. "After all, you're concerned about my safety, and the only way you can guarantee it is with your own presence. Here. All night."
"Absolutely."
Her smile became a grin. "And how inconvenient," she murmured, "that we find ourselves with but a single bed."
"How," he leaned down, and she brushed her lips against his, "very inconvenient."
The dance that night was lovely, with wonderful music and tasteful decor and a very lively crowd, but for Nancy, it was a prelude. Often she caught herself gazing too intently into Ned's eyes, lost in the prickling intensity of their attraction to each other, and was breathless by the time she recovered enough of her senses to glance away and let them cool off. The heat built and built, though, every time, with every gentle brush of his fingertips over the bare skin of her arm, every time he tightened his grip around her waist and led her into another quick spin with the beat, every time he found some excuse to lean down and murmur something into her ear. Her own teasing was limited to the brief glance of her clipped, polished nails over the nape of his neck, to her own murmurs when he bent down to her, to the brief press of her body to his. He wore the cologne she loved, and she stared up into his handsome face, spellbound, alight.
"Sweetheart."
The color rose a little in her cheeks, but she didn't look away from him. Sometimes she sensed that her boldness took him aback, but it never dampened his enthusiasm to any significant degree—and, as she often reminded herself, Ned had known her for a few years now, and had never made any secret of what he wanted their relationship to be.
It had only been fair and equitable for her to do the same.
"Love," she replied, with a soft smile, and it was Ned's turn to blush a little, to hold her a shade more tightly.
One of Ned's fraternity brothers did eventually wheedle a dance, and Nancy watched Ned almost immediately yield to an invitation from another woman. She didn't begrudge it, but she did watch them, keeping a fraction of her attention on the small talk her newest dance partner was trying to engage in. When he swung a bit too close to her, she frowned and stepped back, a shade more space between them than had been there before.
Ned's was the only body she wanted pressed tight to hers. Ned's were the only eyes she wanted to be gazing into with such rapture and adoration. Over the past few years she had realized that while she appreciated other men, their fashion sense or intelligence, while she understood how Bess found them attractive—she herself didn't.
It was Ned, always. Absolutely always.
Ned returned to her for the next dance and she relaxed, back in his arms again, safe again. The thought made her chuckle.
"Hmm?" His expression was open and warm as he gazed into her eyes.
"We've been in so many perilous situations together, but I've always felt safe with you," she said, and her lips turned up. "Even when I thought you were trying to steal my car."
Ned shook his head. "The quicksand. The time I'm pretty sure you were nearly struck by lightning. That spider."
"Just think. If we were other people, all you'd have to look back on is, what? Nearly-perfect golf games, excellent picnics…"
"My mother's scrapbook of newspaper clippings that mention me would definitely be a bit thinner."
She smiled again. "Given that you constitute fully half of the Emerson sports programs, I'm surprised they ever let you help me on my mysteries."
"'Let,'" he repeated. "I'm sure they understand that wild horses couldn't keep me away."
When he leaned down, she couldn't help it. She angled her head and met his lips, losing herself in a slow, sweet kiss as their bodies swayed together.
Almost as though they were delaying the inevitable to make it all the sweeter, they stayed through the last dance, stopped to chat with some of his fraternity brothers—and Nancy commented that she was overwhelmed by their generosity in insisting that she have her own space during her visit, since she was certain they needed their rest and her own activities kept her up all hours of the night. Their feigned innocence was undercut by the faint flush she noticed at their jawlines, but she kept her own eyes bright and innocent as well.
Ned burst into laughter as he and Nancy left the gym. "Well done."
"Dad always taught me that if I set my mind to something, I should be proud of what I'd decided and ready to defend my reasoning. They should have done the same."
"Well, no one at Omega Chi had the benefit of Carson Drew as a father," Ned commented.
Nancy sighed in pretended sorrow. "I bear a heavy burden as his only child, but I persevere."
"Clearly," Ned said dryly. "Now. Would you mind lingering at the Theta house for a while, so I can change?"
"Of course, darling."
She would have headed straight for the cottage, but she understood that part of Ned's cover involved escorting her there for safety purposes, and listening to the girls' latest gossip and discussion of fashion was an easy way to pass the time. When Ned returned Nancy had changed her fashionable heels for sturdier flat shoes, and her ball gown for a more suitable cotton dress. Ned gallantly offered his coat and she slipped it on, breathing in his cologne before sliding her arm through his.
"I love that you look at me in this the same way you do when I'm all dressed up for a dance."
"You mean the same way you look at me?"
She smiled. "I can't help it. I'm ridiculously in love with you."
He shifted to slide his arm around her waist. "And I'm madly, completely in love with you."
She turned to glance over at him. Greek Row was behind them, and while some couples and groups of friends were still enjoying themselves near the fraternity and sorority houses, for most the night was winding down, and on this little-trod path the air was quieter still. The sky was glittering velvet above them, the moon coldly silver, and a quick breeze pushed a bit of pine straw a few inches on the grass before abandoning the effort.
She knew, or at least she thought she knew, what would come. And still her stomach shivered in anticipation.
"Are both members of a betrothed couple allowed to sleep in the Omega house?"
Ned blinked. "Not officially," he replied. "I can't say it's never happened, but I'm sure that would earn the same stern lecture and discussions of impropriety and polite behavior."
She smiled. "So, in a way… your brothers are treating us…"
"As though we're engaged," he filled in, when she trailed off.
They were quiet for the next few minutes, as Ned played his flashlight over the ground, picking up the faint signs of the overgrown trail. Nancy recognized the cottage only when the light playing over the panes of glass turned them an opaque white; otherwise, the secluded, shadowed spot made for near-perfect camouflage.
"They may be," he commented, as they drew close to the door. "Thinking of us as—together."
"Which we are, but I catch your drift." She reached for his hand and laced her fingers between his. "Well, Mr. Nickerson, you've completed your task. Here I am, front doorstep, safe and sound, even before curfew."
Ned smiled. "Thank goodness. But I think I'll have to insist on coming inside. I would hate to find that some nefarious character had lain in wait for you."
"And there are so very many places to hide," Nancy chimed in, furrowing her brow in mock concentration. "It's only right. Please come in."
Her voice dropped to a low purr at the end of it, and Ned just gazed at her, spellbound again. He cleared his throat a moment later.
"We are very alone out here."
She nodded.
"Far from anyone who might be roused by a scream."
"Be it one of terror or of pleasure," she agreed.
"And I don't," he swept her into his arms to carry her over the threshold, and she giggled in delight, "believe in wasting opportunities."
When he placed her lightly on her feet, she toed out of her shoes and reached for the zipper at the side seam of her dress, her gaze locked to his as she tugged it down.
"Nor do I."