Moonlight in the Morning (Edilean 6)

“Mind helping me up?” he asked.

Jecca knew he could get up by himself, but she still moved her arm about until she found his hand. By now the size and shape of it almost felt familiar.

He stood up, placing his body close to hers. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ve not told anyone about . . . well, what happened.”

She knew he meant about the woman he’d almost fallen in love with. His confession had consisted of a few sentences. Had it been her, she’d have talked to Kim for hours about it. But maybe all he’d needed was the relief of saying it out loud.

He kept holding her hand, his fingers playing along her palm. “Would you tell no one what I told you? I don’t want it all over town, as it could cause my friend’s new wife embarrassment.”

Jecca didn’t like promising to keep a secret from Kim, but then, this little encounter in the dark would be CarkCardifficult to explain. “I won’t tell,” she said. “I promise.”

“Shall we meet again?” he asked, his grip on her hand firm.

Jecca couldn’t help laughing. “Like Lady Chatterley’s lover?”

“That would make you the lady and me the baseborn gamekeeper. Is that what you want?”

He said it in a tone as though she were elevating herself to a class above him, and she laughed more. “I do like that idea.”

“I see it more as Cupid and Psyche, that couple who—”

She knew the story well and had always liked it. “Cupid was the Goddess of Love’s son, while Psyche was—”

“A very beautiful young woman. The instant he saw her, he fell in love with her,” Tris said.

“I think he hit himself with his own arrow, but wasn’t he also fairly pretty?”

“I do believe he was. Probably took after his mother,” Tris said as he pulled Jecca a step closer so he could hold her hand with both of his. “Too many women fell in love with his beauty and he wanted to be loved for himself. So he . . .”

“Married her but didn’t let her see him.”

“Then that night . . .” Tris said.

“He slipped into her bed and made divine love to her,” she said.

Tris stepped even closer. “And what kind of love would that be?” he whispered. “All night of hot and sweaty, or champagne and roses, or more caressing than actual sex?”

“Yes,” Jecca whispered. His face was inches from hers now and although she couldn’t see him, she could feel his breath on her cheek. And when he turned, his lips were very near hers. “Any of it,” she said. “I like all of it.”

He held her hand with the one that was in the sling and put his other hand up to her hair. “My two blind patients say their sense of touch tells them everything. May I?” His fingertips touched her neck.

Jecca nodded. She was glad for the darkness so he couldn’t see that she closed her eyes at his touch. She’d been so busy at work lately that she hadn’t been on a date in months, hadn’t been to bed with a man in more months.

She let him touch her neck, her ear, then move across her cheek.

“But Psyche had a mortal’s curiosity,” he said, “and she wanted to see her husband. She wanted to know if he was ugly.” His hand was on the side of her face, his fingers in her hair, his thumb at her chin.

“She took an oil lamp,” Jecca said softly, “and went to his bed. When she saw him . . .”

“She was so astonished at his beauty that a drop of oil fell onto his shoulder and burned him.”

Jecca knew she had to stop this or the man was going to have her naked in a matter of minutes. She stepped back out of his reach. “It Cch.ut hi was six drops, and that’s why we have six months of winter and six of summer.”

Tristan laughed, a pleasant sound. “I think that was pomegranate seeds and it’s another story. Psyche gave her name to nosy people like psychiatrists.”

“This from a very nosy man,” Jecca said.

“I recently had some lessons in curiosity and I’m finding them useful. Will you meet me here tomorrow night at nine? We’ll talk some more.”