Moonlight in the Morning (Edilean 6)

So much for Lucy being shy and reclusive, Jecca thought. “Let me change clothes and—”

“Oh no!” Lucy said. “We have clothes for this session downstairs.”

“You mean . . . ?”

“We have belly dancing costumes complete with veils and lots of gold coins.”

Wait until I tell Tris about this tonight, Jecca thought, and followed her down the stairs.

Eight

Jecca was outside and waiting for Tristan as soon as the light faded. It was the last night of full darkness, and she feared that it would be their last truly secret meeting.

She was afraid to walk too fast or she might run into the heavy lawn furniture. Maybe instead of spending today with Lucy she should have gone to the playhouse so she could find it in the dark. She could have waited for Tristan there.

She heard a sound to her left. “Tristan?” she whispered, but there was no answer. But then she felt his hand on hers. His fingers closed around hers and tugged—and she followed him.

He di

dn’t take her through the woods to the playhouse. She wanted to ask him where he was leading her, but more, she wanted to be surprised.

When she stumbled, he halted and lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers one by one. “Not far now,” he whispered, and they walked some more.

When they stopped, he pulled her so her back was to his chest, his free arm in front of her. She could feel his arm in its sling behind her back. “Tell me what you see,” he whispered, “but don’t use your eyes.”

It was difficult to think when he was touching her, but she closed her eyes and listened and felt. “My other senses,” she whispered.

“All right.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “What do you hear?”

“Your breathing, even your heart.”

“I like that. But what do you hear besides me?”

“Frogs,” she said, “and water. Quiet water. It’s not small. It’s a lake or a large pond.” She turned her head toward him.

“Right.” He kissed her cheek. Not just a peck but she could feel his lips fully, softly. When she moved her mouth closer to his, he drew back.

“Kisses are my reward?”

He nuzzled her neck in answer.

“Beats a regular report card. What’s next?”

“Smell,” he said.

She inhaled slowly. “Again, it’s you. Cleanliness. You recently showered and shaved. No colognes.” She put her head back against him, her eyes closed. “I know your breath. Sweet, fresh. I could find you in a crowd by the smell and feel of your breath.”

He moved his face into her neck. “What about around you?”

She had to move her head so she could feel the night air. “The air still smells of the rain and . . .” She inhaled. “Roses. They’re close by. And there’s . . . Is that jasmine?”

“Very good,” he said and kissed her an inch away from her mouth. His lips lingered, as though daring her to turn into them. But Jecca remained where she was and didn’t turn toward him. If he could hold out, so could she.

“Feeling,” he whispered.

“You!” she said. k shwid8220;The back of me feels the warmth and strength of you, and the hard lump of your injured arm.”

He twisted and she felt him pull the sling over his head. He slid his arm around her, the cast in front of her, her body fully against his.