Moonwitch

Kyle raised an eyebrow at her. “Is something amiss, Moonwitch?”

Selena hesitated as she looked up at him, feeling strange to be purposely seeking a man’s attention, even a man who was her husband. “No…I just wondered if you meant to rejoin the dancing.”

“It’s too warm to dance. It’s hot as hades in here.”

Selena took a deep breath. She had watched Miss Jenkins enough to have an idea as to how she should proceed, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to employ the coy play of eyelashes. Instead, she stroked his sleeve, and the light brush of her gloved fingertips conveyed its own subtle but unmistakable message. “It’s cooler in the courtyard,” she murmured, her voice taking on a husky catch that was also unmistakable.

Kyle’s slow, knowing smile brought a becoming flush to her cheeks. “Well then, madam wife,” he responded with amused formality, “may I hope you will oblige me with a stroll in the courtyard?”

The glimmer in his eyes was more than amusement. Selena nodded wordlessly, conscious of the now familiar quickening between her thighs.

The courtyard was cooler, they discovered, but it also was nearly as crowded as the house, filled with guests who had also been seeking respite from the heat. Disappointed, Selena resigned herself to merely enjoying Kyle’s company rather than the intimate moment she had hoped for. She was surprised and gratified when, without words, he took her hand and led her away from the heat and the crowds and the noise, till the laughter and music of the ball became only a murmur.

Fingers clasped, they strolled beneath the majestic magnolias and moss-shrouded oaks, between draperies of swaying gray lace that had silvered in the brilliant moonlight, wending their way without conscious thought toward the distant summerhouse.

Selena felt her body tightening with excitement as anticipation flared through her senses. A soft breeze scented with jasmine fanned her face, but her rapid heartbeat was at odds with the gentleness of the evening.

Kyle, however, was feeling all the tautness slowly draining from his muscles. All evening he had been fighting the urge to plant his fists in the face of every man who merely looked at Selena, and it was a relief to be able to relax his guard and to consider his fierce reaction. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy; perhaps that was it. His solution had been to stay away from Selena to avoid the distraction she always presented by mingling with the other guests, but it hadn’t worked, for she had never been far from his thoughts.

Nor was jealousy the only emotion he’d experienced recently where Selena was concerned. A smile touched Kyle’s mouth as he recalled his frustration yesterday at her determined rescue of Felicity from his wrath, his delight in watching her struggle with that infernal bird, his pride when he had witnessed her greeting Danielle this evening. Not one woman in a hundred could have shown as much aplomb or been so gracious to someone she had every right to spurn.

Pride, that was it, he realized with faint surprise. He was proud that Selena belonged to him.

He let the thought linger in his mind, and when they reached the line of cherry laurels that bordered the summerhouse, he paused and turned to survey the land he had inherited against his will. The full moon was working its magic, weaving a spell of radiance and splendor and peace. Even the din of the cicadas seemed hushed.

Kyle let out his breath on a sigh, conscious of a sense of contentment, a sense of being where he belonged. Drawing Selena back against his chest, he slipped his arms around her slender waist, noting with intense pleasure that she wasn’t wearing a corset. He held her that way for a long while, keeping her warm woman shape pressed to him, drinking in the unearthly beauty of the scene—a beauty, he thought, like Selena herself. Tantalizing and elusive.

“Clay had it right when he called you ‘moon lady,’” Kyle murmured against her hair. “The first time I saw you in the moonlight, I wondered if some sorcerer had been at work. You looked like a moonbeam come to life.”

Selena closed her eyes, trembling as his touch rippled through her. It was the closest Kyle had ever come to saying that he cared for her. She could have stayed there forever, savoring the closeness between them, she thought. And yet she wanted more than that from him. Her body ached with a hunger so feverish and intense that she felt weak. Vaguely, she wondered if Kyle felt the same torment. Perhaps he was waiting for her to take the first step. Well, she would. She no longer had any shame where he was concerned; her reserve melted whenever he touched her.

Turning in his arms, she gazed up at him with silent yearning. “Kyle,” she breathed, her voice a whisper and a plea.

He knew what she wanted. Only a man with ice in his veins could have failed to detect the sensual longing in her eyes and voice—or failed to be

affected. Yet he wanted to hear it from Selena’s own lips. He wanted her to admit that she craved his possession, his touch.

Kyle lifted his hands to her shoulders, feeling their long, graceful swell beneath his palms. With piquant slowness then, he bent and kissed the corner of her mouth. “What is it, Moonwitch?” His own voice was warm and husky and only half teasing. He let his lips trail a wealth of light kisses along the curving line of her jaw to her ear and heard her soft intake of breath as he tugged on the sensitive lobe. “What do you want?” he prompted as Selena arched against him.

“You,” she answered breathlessly, clinging to him.

“Very well, I’m yours. What will you do with me?”

“Kyle.” The word was at once plaintive and commanding, an imperative demand for fulfillment. And he had every intention of seeing that the lady was fulfilled.

Breaking their embrace, Kyle grasped Selena’s hand and pulled her after him, past the cherry laurels and up the two steps to the summerhouse. Pausing in the warm, pulsing darkness, he let his eyes adjust to the dimness. In the slender shafts of moonlight that spilled through the latticed walls, he could see the outline of a wrought iron bench. “Will this do?” Kyle said as he drew her toward it.

Selena’s glance was quizzical but trusting as he settled himself on the bench and pulled her down to sit on his lap. She felt him rising hard against her, and a shudder of desire streaked through her in response. “I don’t know… What if someone comes?”

“Then we’ll hear them… That is, unless they hear us first—which is probably more likely, the way you carry on when you’re in the throes of passion.”

“I do not carry on.”

Kyle flashed her a slow grin. “You do, Moonwitch. And I love it.” As if to emphasize his point, his hand slipped behind her head, carefully, so not to disturb the neat coil of her hair, and drew her down to meet his searing kiss.

It was long yet urgent, his tongue delving into her mouth to communicate his desire, his fingers stroking her bare arms above the edge of her long gloves. Selena melted against him. She loved the feel of his hands caressing her skin, the gentleness behind the strength when he ran his work-roughened palms over her body, as he was doing now so expertly. But it wasn’t enough. Too many layers of clothing separated them.

She knew Kyle must have thought so, too, for he suddenly pulled his lips away. “I want to taste you, Moonwitch. Give your nipples to me…now.”