Verity scoffed playfully. "Theo enjoyed the company of a girl just fine!" she argued. When he mentioned turning fourteen she laughed. "Fourteen is a good age. Some how I don't think Marlowe will quite be like his father though," she teased, winking at him. It was the first time that she could remember that she'd actually referred to Monty as Marlowe's father and she hoped it didn't bother him.
There was that look in Montague's eyes that boiled her blood and warmed her skin. She almost began to hope, but it seemed that as quickly as the hunger had come it was gone again. She nearly sighed.
"She realised your mother typically ordered your robes," she winked. The kiss was nice, welcome. She kissed him back eagerly, though carefully adhered to his pace, her hand going to the front of his robes.