His hand was on her leg. No one — except a maid — had touched Hanna's leg since she was a child. Hanna's hand moved from Mr. Hudson's lapel to his back, skating over the back of his jacket. She leaned her neck forward to press a wet kiss to the top of his ear — inspired by this, she gave a careful lick to his earlobe. "I'm yours," she whispered. They may be on the beach, but this felt deeply intimate to her — like they were the only people in the world, the only people who had ever thought of this — mouth on neck on ear, hands on back on leg under skirts, all of it.