She pondered this.
He found himself leaning forward, waiting.
"No. I cannot make this promise."
"No? Why not?"
She gave him a quick smile and raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Sometimes the moon calls to me."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever seen it? Moonlight on the beach? It is glorious. The waves are silver and black and blue and alive. Sometimes I open the window at night and smell the salty air and I am ... powerlust not to follow the
moon."
He saw the wonder in her eyes, heard it in the throaty catch of her voice, and he was lost. He could not be the one to take wonderland from bis innocent Alice. All he could do was be beside her, watch her, protect her.
She'd won.
He sighed. "Well, you've had a big night. Time to get back to bed."
She gave him a bright smile. "It was a grand adventure. Thank you for rescue me from the killing wildcat"
He fought a smile. "You're welcome."
Grinning, she jumped to her feet and headed for the door. As she reached for the brass handle, she stopped and turned around. "I am attaining a party tomorrow with Maeve. You would like to join us?"
"Party?"
"Tea and biscuits. It shall be at three o'clock in my secret place in the forest."
He couldn't deny her. "Fine, Selena. I'll be there."
190
She gave him another dazzling smile and skipped from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.
He listened to the quiet patter of her bare feet on the wooden stairs and smiled. Then he laughed softly.
Damned if little miss innocent didn't have an iron will.
Ian stood at the edge of the forest, listening. Muted strains of conversation floated through the emerald thicket. Every now and again, a woman laughed.
He felt like a fool for standing here, motionless, and yet he couldn't quite force himself to take another step. Tea with his mother. What a nightmare this could be. Steeling himself, he forged ahead, following the twisting, leaf- and needle-strewn path through the tall, moss-furred trees. Finally he veered to the right and stepped over the fallen logs and mushrooms and ferns to reach Selena's hideout. What he saw stopped him dead again. Selena and Maeve were seated at a small, oval table. A bright patchwork quilt covered the table and draped to the dirty ground, puddling in folds of vibrant color. Several of his father's hunting trophies sat clustered on rocks and stumps between the two women. An eerily wide-eyed white owl leaned against a badger, his face frozen in a vicious snarl, his waxen paws poised in midair. Several stuffed peacocks huddled on a flat slab of granite, their blinkless glass eyes focused on the lopsided cake in the center of the table. Red apples and cut flowers were scattered around the purple cake. Purple.
Selena smiled at Ian and clapped her hands. "He came, Maeve. Look, it is Ian."
Maeve's head turned slowly toward him. She gave him a blank look that made his stomach tighten. Then, wordlessly, she turned back to the stuffed coyote in her lap and pretended to feed him cake. Ian groaned. Oh, Jesus . . .
191
Selena patted the stump next to her. "I saved you a seat. Come." Reluctantly he sat down beside her.
Selena made a great show of pouring him a cup of tea and cutting him a slice of cake.
He balanced the tiny, delicate china cup on his knees and stared at the cold amber liquid.
Maeve waved a hand in the air. "Oh, put it anywhere. My husband loves bread pudding."