His blue eyes turned dark, and had I not known better, I would have sworn the ground shook as he stared at me with a look of desire.
“Forgive me, it was very unladylike of me to say such a thing. I’m not a flirt.”
Lifting his eyes to Ayana, Jonathon winked and then focused on my face. His hand reached out and lightly brushed against my heated skin. “And if I like to hear you say such things, my sweet dove, will you continue to do so?”
The beating of my heart was so loud I was sure all of Salem could hear it. “I can scarcely think at the moment. But I believe so, for you make me feel things I have never felt before,” I whispered.
His face softened. “I can think of only one thing.”
“And that is?” I asked while my chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Is this what my mother felt for James? Still feels for James? For one look from Jonathon and I was lost. Beautifully and utterly lost.
“How desperately I long to kiss your lips, Quinn.”
Our bodies instantly moved closer. I ached to feel him against me. Such things surely should not be running through my mind, yet I couldn’t help myself.
A throat cleared from behind us, causing us each to snap out of the spell we had fallen under. Glancing over my shoulder at Ayana, I inhaled a deep breath and gave her a silly grin. With a quick exhale, I turned back to Jonathon. “We should continue with our walk before we draw attention to ourselves.”
His expression was that of disappointment. If only he knew I felt the same. “We should,” he murmured.
Continuing our walk, we headed toward the docks.
“Tell me all about yourself, Jonathon.”
He laughed, and I had to catch myself from reaching for his hand. The sound of his laughter rumbled through my body and settled deep within my stomach, fanning the desire and need I felt for him even more.
“I was studying law at Harvard when my father asked me to take leave and join him on this trip. Since arriving in Salem, I have been helping Mr. Hathorne with some… issues.”
I lifted my brow in question. “Issues? Am I one of those issues?”
Our stroll led us to a park bench. Motioning with his hand, Jonathon asked, “Would you like to sit for a bit?”
Nodding, I sat on one end while he sat on the other. Ayana sat on another bench not far off from ours.
“You have become a priority of sorts. Never an issue, my dove.”
I sat up straighter. “A priority? How so?”
“Your father, I mean Mr. Hathorne, feels your life is in danger.”
“Danger?” I asked.
With a nod, he continued, “Hence the reason he sent for you the other night. I implored him to wait until my father and I could inquire about a few things, but something seems to have upset Mr. Hathorne. He insisted on telling you the truth about him being your father. He keeps referring to the—” Jonathon glanced around to be sure no one was within hearing distance.
Leaning in closer, I whispered, “Referring to what? What does he refer to, Jonathon?”
“The trials from years ago.”
“The witch trials?”