Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

having a younger female around.

"Jillian has never liked me . . listen . . . its thundering again. The weatherman predicted a week of

storms, remember?"

I heard the faint pitter-patter of rain on the roof.

Soon Troy was building a fire to chase away the

morning chill and damp, and I was sprawled on the

floor watching him. It amused me the way he even

stacked kindling with such precision. However, it

delighted me to watch him when he was relaxed. How

wonderful that the weather would enclose us in his

cottage.

The fire burned hot, bright. The stretch of

silence between us began to palpitate with sensuality. The play of the orange firelight on the hard planes of his face sent tingles through my body. I saw him watching me as I watched him, studying my face when I was staring at his hands . . and then he moved to prop himself up on his elbow, and his face was very close. He was going to make love to me again. My

pulse quickened.

Instead of kisses he gave me words.

Instead of his arms wrapping about me, he fell

back to tuck his hands behind his head again, his

favorite position. "Do you know what I think about

when it's summer? I think soon it will be autumn, and

all the brightest, prettiest summer birds will fly away,

leaving the darkest and drabbest ones to stay. I hate

the days when they grow short. I don't sleep well

during the long winter nights; somehow the cold

seems to creep through the walls and into my bones

and I toss and turn and flit in and out of bad dreams. I

dream too much in the winter. Summer is the time for

sweet dreams. Even with you here beside me, I feel

you are a dream."

"Troy . . ." I protested, turning toward him. "No, please allow me to talk. I seldom have

anyone who listens as attentively as you do, and I