by Kay Hooper
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
“Think Tully can watch the trap alone? I can hire a plainclothes security man to guard during the day: he wouldn’t be noticed.”
At that moment Addie couldn’t refuse him anything. “All right, Shane.”
His eyes brightened, and he bent his head to kiss her with a lightness that left them both hungry. “And maybe with no distractions,” he said whimsically, “I can learn to understand the magic of you.”
—
Addie thought about those words as she stood on the veranda of the small and lovely inn that Shane had found for them. All on one level, the sprawling building stood in the center of a private park, a breathtaking wilderness uncultivated except for winding paths and a few low stone walls, where animals were protected from hunters. The owner of the inn had imported a herd of deer. They were wild things, not meant to be petted but only gazed at and admired. She could see a few of them grazing in the distance; they were lovely, delicate creatures brought here from other countries, and to Addie they seemed carved from elusive dreams.
Shane had driven them north of Melbourne, and after several hours they had reached this enchanted place. Addie, with a lifetime spent on a remote sheep station and the years since occupied by stables and horses and hard physical work, had caught her breath at the green freshness of it. The very atmosphere of lush beauty and natural peace had lifted burdens from her shoulders and lightened her heart.
Now, leaning on the low stone balustrade, she gazed out on the waning day and smiled. They had walked the paths companionably, hands linked, talking in contentment. This place had been designed to provide peace and quiet and seclusion, with all meals casual unless one wished to dress formally and take part in the ballroom dancing that was a nightly event.
Addie sighed in regret as she thought of that. It would have been wonderful, she mused, to glide over the polished floor in Shane’s arms, her gown flowing gracefully.
She laughed at herself a little then, acknowledging her inescapable desire to have her man see her in something lovely and feminine. Not that Shane had complained, but Addie was painfully aware that she always had been dressed sexlessly for him. Jeans and tops, or racing silks…
The thought faded away as she went to answer a knock at her door, and she was surprised to accept the delivery of a large, beribboned box. She tipped the deliveryman and took the box into the sitting room, glancing toward the connecting door leading to Shane’s room.
There was a note attached to the present, and she opened it, recognizing Shane’s handwriting even though she’d never seen it before.
I know your father probably warned you never to accept gifts from strange Yanks, but I ask that you accept this one. I saw it in a store window, and knew it was yours. Come dance with me tonight, please.
Shane
With trembling fingers Addie opened the box and tossed aside heaps of tissue paper. Inside there was a pair of delicate high-heeled sandals, the straps mere wisps of pale leather, exactly sized for tiny feet. And there was a dress.
It was a soft green, a dreamy, elusive color that seemed to shimmer with streaks of silver. The material was no thicker than a cloud and every bit as illusory. Addie held her breath as she lifted the delicate creation from its box, and she wondered again about his references to her “magic.”
Magic? What did he see when he looked at her? She replaced the dress and went over to gaze at her reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror. She saw what she had always seen. A small, rather pale young woman with thick red hair cut short for convenience, though rather perky in style. Eyes that were too big and too dark, and a mouth too wide.
She had, she thought, none of Manda’s lush curves and none of Sydney’s slender, graceful beauty.
What she had was slenderness that was not quite thinness, and curves that were slight and rarely obvious beneath the casual clothing she always wore.
But Shane seemed to see something more. She returned to the box, gazing down on that lovely, delicate dress. What would she look like in this fragile creation?
Slightly more than an hour later, she knew.
She stood again before the mirror, the sandals lending her height and a peculiar grace she had not known she possessed. And the dress…the dress clung lovingly to her breasts and waist before flowing out around her in a cascade of filmy material nearly reaching the floor. Panels of the fabric fell from her shoulders and trailed behind her like wispy arms reaching for what had gone before.
Bemused, astonished, Addie could hardly believe that the tiny fairylike creature she saw was herself. The deep V neckline revealed the creamy curves of her breasts and the silver medallion nestling between, and the turquoise stone in the center of the medallion seemed to catch fire from the dress and glowed richly. Her waist was tiny; her hips curved gracefully; her bare arms were slender and delicate.
And her face seemed as transformed as her body. It was, somehow, a gentle face, a yearning face. The big eyes were soft and dreamy, the lips parted in tremulous awakening.
This face had never been splashed with mud from the hooves racing ahead, and this body had never crouched atop a pounding, striving Thoroughbred running forty miles an hour….
Addie thought of the remarks Shane had uttered from time to time, and she felt a dim surprise. He had, she realized, seen what she was seeing now. Fragility and delicacy and something so elusive it almost seemed unreal. He had seen this from the first, needing no magical dress to open his eyes as it had opened hers.
This is what he sees when he looks at me, she thought, and for the first time she truly understood his fear for her.
Then, slowly, she squared her shoulders and smiled at her reflection, watching dreaminess disappear behind a glint of humor. God had played a trick on her, she realized. He’d given her one reflection to look at and shown another to the world, and that explained so much.
No wonder she’d seen so many astonished faces from observers as she worked as a blacksmith, lifting the anvil easily and bending, nails clenched between her teeth, to hammer at iron. No wonder it had taken time to convince trainers and other jockeys that she could easily control her mounts. No wonder the majority of the men she had met had been protective rather than seductive.
“Hell,” she murmured aloud with a laugh, “I look like a nymph or a pixie. No wonder he was afraid he’d break me.”
She was almost tempted to strip off the dress and put it away, reclaiming the jeans and tops that at the very least gave her a very human air. But she didn’t.
Because, if nothing else, Shane well knew there was a passionate woman beneath this deceptive surface. And if he hadn’t learned what else she was by now, taking off the dress would hardly help.
She mused a moment longer, her dark eyes taking on a fey expression and a different kind of smile curving her lips. Or perhaps…taking off the dress was just exactly what she needed to do. She didn’t look like a siren, she thought. But once the pixie dress fell away, the woman underneath it could depend on instincts to show her the way….
—
He knocked at the hall door rather than the connecting one, and Addie was amused by that. Such a gentleman, she thought. Such a wonderful, handsome, sexy, tender, stubborn gentleman. She was laughing softly as she opened the door, reminding herself that the blood of a rake flowed in her veins. And then her laughter died as she glanced up into vivid jade eyes.
“Addie…”
He looked at her the way a man would gaze at a dream met suddenly in the flesh, with surprise and fascination and an odd kind of hunger.
And Addie gazed up at him, seeing a strikingly handsome blond man unnervingly formal in a pale tuxedo, and her pulse leaped at this heart-jolting image of the perfect male animal.
“Thank you for the dress,” she managed to say at last.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly. “That dress is magic on you. I knew it would be.”
Addie closed the door behind her a
nd accepted his arm, feeling a tremor beneath her fingers that was instantly answered by one deep inside her. She experienced a faint flickering satisfaction from the knowledge that however nature had chosen to clothe them both, neither could doubt the very real and primitive passions hidden beneath deceptive colors.
She saw heads turn when they entered the dining room of the inn, and felt a surge of purely female pride in her escort. It was followed almost immediately by inner amusement as she acknowledged another of the new feelings roused in her: possessiveness. Oddly enough, she seemed to be turning into a very primitive female indeed, and she found the feelings both humorous and unsettling.
Any moment now she’d be standing on a table warning every other woman within range to keep her hands to herself.
After their waiter had seated them and left to bring drinks, Shane leaned toward her and murmured, “Don’t be surprised if I punch somebody out.”
She blinked. “Why would you?”
“Because every man in this room would kill to be sitting where I’m sitting,” he said, reaching to grasp her hand gently. “And it just may come to that, because I sure as hell won’t give up my place.”
“Is this what they call Yankee charm?” she asked.
“No. This is what they call caveman possessiveness. And I hope you don’t mind, because I can’t seem to rise above it.”
“I rather like it,” she murmured.
The green eyes flared at her. “Dammit, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use your magic voice.” He seemed to be having trouble with his own, and cleared his throat. “When you do that, I—hell, I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to bed.”
“Mine or yours?”
He released her hand and sat back somewhat abruptly. “We’re going to have dinner,” he said in a careful tone. “Then we’re going to dance.”
“And then?”
He half-closed his eyes and the expression on his face momentarily revealed his bewilderment. “How do you do that? It’s just plain English, dammit, not even the most beautiful language. It isn’t your accent or the words—it’s something else. How in heaven’s name can you say two little words and make them sound like a siren song?”
“Is that what I do? If so, I’m glad.”
Shane very nearly growled, almost snatching his drink from the waiter and downing half as if he needed it. Badly. “Yes, that’s what you do,” he said finally, his tone hoarse. “It soothes animals, and it soothes people—except me. It doesn’t soothe me.”
“What does it do to you?” Addie heard the throaty sound of her own voice, but nothing more. Nothing, she thought, to cause green eyes to flare hotly and focus on her lips as though drawn by a lodestone. Not that she minded.
Shane drained his glass and seemed about to gesture for another, then changed his mind. “No,” he muttered. “If I drink too much, I’ll really be in trouble.”
“You’re in trouble now.” She smiled slowly. “Whatever it is I’ve got, Shane, I plan to use. I’ll use whatever it takes.” Her gaze moved over his face, imprinting every feature on her soul. “Because I love you. Because I want you.”
He was hypnotized by her eyes. They moved over his face, intent, absorbed. Focused on his mouth and seemed to flare, and he felt a pulse, a tiny heartbeat in his lips throb in response. Traced the line of his jaw until his teeth gritted unconsciously. Moved back to meet his gaze…and he felt himself being pulled irresistibly into dark velvety pools, trapped…trapped.
Shane fought his way to the surface somehow, blinking, breathing for what felt like the first time in years. But he didn’t escape those dark pools. His entire body was throbbing in a slow, heavy beat, and he heard the haunting music of her voice as if from a great distance.
“I’m feeling rather primitive myself.”
“I’m glad it isn’t one-sided.” He cleared his throat and fiercely leashed his urges. “Addie, there’s very likely a law against public ravishment.”
She was tracing the rim of her glass with one finger and smiling at him. “Oh, really? But not, I’m sure, against private ravishment. You could complain to the police, of course.”
He blinked. “Complain?”
“After I ravish you.”
He held on to the table with one hand, watching his knuckles turn white and wishing desperately for a mast to lash himself to. And wax for his ears.
“Or were you planning it the other way around?” she asked hopefully.
Carefully, politely, still gazing at his white knuckles, he said, “Are you aware of the fact that I’ve gotten used to cold showers and sleepless nights these last weeks? Are you aware that frustrated desire is acutely painful? Do you understand that I am one breath away from being a rabid animal at this point?”
When she said nothing, he looked up to meet her gaze. And, being Addie, she surprised him. Compassionate, tender-hearted Addie was looking at him with imps in her eyes.
“It’s your own fault,” she reminded him gently.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then released the table to gesture for their waiter. Food had never helped before, he acknowledged, but maybe…
Chapter 6
Addie felt she was no longer earthbound. Gliding around the dance floor in Shane’s arms, she felt suspended somehow, drifting above the world in a dream. Even the desire between them, balanced so precariously, added to the dreamlike sensation.
Her body was hot, heavy, languid in every movement. Shane’s hands on her waist seemed to burn through the filmy material and brand her, and her own hands were almost painfully sensitive to the silky touch of his hair beneath her fingers.
They moved in perfect step, slowly and with a natural, unconscious rhythm, their bodies brushing, touching firmly, parting. And each touch caught the breath in her throat and closed her eyes in a reflex that was becoming a familiar thing.
She didn’t notice others on the dance floor, although there were, she knew, others there. And the music was only a tempo in her body, a singing in her veins.
They had danced every dance for over an hour now, and the few who had tried to cut in had retreated in haste after Shane’s curt refusal to give up his partner. They were left alone. Alone to dance in the aching silence between them. Alone to touch and retreat and glide in a world of their own.
Addie felt his lips touch her shoulder, the side of her neck. She shivered, any sense of her own power gone as always with his touch. He was magic, she thought. His touch was magic.
Shane guided them out through French doors and onto a dim, deserted veranda. They stood close together in silence, touching but not moving, gazing at each other in the light of the rising moon.
He bent his head slowly until his lips touched hers, as gentle as though he held a wraith in his arms. But flesh and blood responded in passion, and his arms tightened around the woman who was very real.
The stark possession of his tongue sent a hot tremor through Addie, and her body instinctively tried to fit his, molding itself bonelessly. She could feel the hard muscles of his body, feel the heat of him scorching her and his arms locked around her, and her senses overloaded in a burst of inner sparks.
But then she felt Shane stiffen, and as his head lifted she dimly heard someone calling his name.
Resting his forehead against hers, Shane muttered, “Dammit,” in a hoarse voice. “I tried to get through to the States before dinner and couldn’t. They said they’d call me. I’m sorry, Addie. I’m coming!” he added a bit impatiently to the uniformed employee who appeared briefly at the French doors and then vanished in some confusion.
“It’s all right.” Her voice was soft, unsteady. “I’ll wait here for you.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He released her reluctantly, pausing at the doors for a last look before disappearing into the building.
Addie turned her back to the inn, gazing out over the low balustrade and trying to control her pounding heart. After a few moments she move
d along the veranda until she reached the wide, shallow steps. He would find her, she thought, when he returned. And she just had to move.
She halted at last before a low wall and placed her hands upon it, looking at the huge pale moon. The golden wattle tree above her head stirred with a slight breeze and she felt the whisper kisses of falling blossoms touch her bare arms. Then she turned her head at a sound, and smiled. With the unconscious gentleness she never heard herself, she said, “Hello, baby. What are you doing on this side of the wall?” And bent to stroke a curious, adoring creature.
—
Shane saw her from the veranda and moved quickly down the steps toward her. But his steps slowed as he neared, finally halting as he stood and just looked at her, his heart beating heavily.
She was kneeling, the pale green dress spread out around her in graceful folds, her bent head burnished by moonlight. A few scattered yellow blossoms lay on the grass, and others drifted downward from the tree above her, while the same soft breeze lifted the panels of wispy material from her shoulders and fluttered them behind her.
He could hear the music from the ballroom, but it was very faint and faraway, like the notes from Pan’s pipes, little more than a breath of sound. But it had summoned the animals. Or she had. The deer were as fairylike as she was, their great dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight, their bodies delicate. And all three of them pushed their black noses into her hands and allowed her to stroke their funnel ears. The tiny one rested its chin on her shoulder and might have been confiding some ancient secret, and the two larger ones seemed almost to dance for her as they gently pushed each other for the craved touch of her hands.
Shane drew a deep, silent breath and moved quietly toward her, not surprised when the animals melted away at his approach. He held a hand out to Addie and she rose gracefully, a smile lingering on her lips. She was dreamy, caught herself in the enchantment of moonlight and distant music.
“Once, when I was a little girl,” she said softly, “my sisters and I went on a grand adventure. We all wanted something. I wanted to touch a unicorn.” Her bewitching smile reached his eyes. “They say if you touch a unicorn, the magic stays with you forever.”
